4 Months and Counting

24 07 2017

I need to preface this post by saying that I actually wrote it about 4 months ago.  Life is different ~ absolutely better ~ and it has either gotten easier or I have just adjusted to the new norm of 6am being a sleep in day (but to be honest, I can’t remember the last time I slept until 6am).

 I re-read my post today and it still holds true to exactly what I was feeling back then (not some distorted sleep deprived reality) when I wrote it in the wee hours of the morning many months ago.  


I think it’s time to take a detour (hopefully brief) from all of the typical travel blog posts and talk about a new adventure that I have been experiencing: motherhood.


I have to say, the transition from ‘mother-to-be’ to ‘new mom’ has been a rocky one.  Perhaps it is because I loved being pregnant – I was definitely one of the lucky ones – I felt great 90% of the pregnancy, it didn’t stop me from doing what I wanted to, and apparently I ‘glowed’.

To be honest, sometimes I still mourn the loss of that role and sometimes I feel a twinge of jealousy when I see a pregnant woman walking down the street, or when I heard that Beyonce was pregnant with twins!  There is just something magical about the potential of being pregnant.  You read up on all of the crazy things that are happening to and inside of your body, you spend hours looking over baby name lists and you plan and visualize exactly how you want your labour and delivery experience to be.

What you don’t realize and what you can’t understand when you’re pregnant for the first time, even when people tell it to you, is that you have very little control over how your baby comes into this world.  Right up until two days before my babies were born, I knew that I was going to have December babies, we would call our doula over to the house when I went into labour, of course it would be during the evening/night and then we would make our way to the hospital…and then the rest of what would happen was always kind of blurry, I just knew what kind of beginning I wanted to have, with little thought to the end I guess.

Since crossing that invisible line of ‘mother-to-be’ to ‘new mom’ I have realized that that is the key to my emotional turmoil.  I am a very good student, and I studied up on everything I could get my hands on about twin pregnancies and then, when the babies finally did make their appearance (in November!) and opposite in almost every way that I had imagined, all of my studying and everything that I had learned had no use anymore.  All of a sudden I was in a new school, with a different set of rules, and I was behind.

As I walked slowly through the waiting room at my OB’s office six days after having my twin girls, I felt like my world had shifted.  The last time I walked through the front door of that waiting room, seven days prior, I never left, and instead was wheeled out the back entrance to the hospital.  I looked around the room at all of the other woman in various stages of pregnancy, and I just thought…’you don’t even know!’  And I know that that’s not fair to say since not all of these women were going through their first pregnancy, but I truly felt like I was in that room, no longer a naïve ‘mother-to-be’ but someone who knew something that you can’t know until you know – and it had changed me forever.

All of a sudden I have these two new little bosses in town.


And they are in control of my life like no parent, teacher or employer ever has been.  They control when I sleep, when I eat, and even when I go to the bathroom.  They often make me question the last time I brushed my teeth or washed my hair….and laundry….if it wasn’t pooped on, it probably isn’t getting done.  Perhaps the most maddening part of this new super-controlled lifestyle, is that there is no rhyme or reason, no set schedule that you can wrap your head around and make sense of.  You just have to simply get used to eating cold food, drinking cold tea, taking 15 minute cat naps and holding it.  And some days you just lower your expectations and don’t even try to eat, sleep or go to the bathroom…and on those days, well….inevitably emotional breakdowns take place.

I would like to say, ‘it gets better every day’, but sometimes it doesn’t.  I think I could possibly say, ‘it gets better every week’, because sometimes it did, but I can definitely say that ‘it gets better every month’.  Those first few weeks were full of tears and a lot of confusion.  I literally cried over ‘spilled milk’.  Our ‘solid as a rock’ relationship took on some blows.  I felt desperate to make sense of these two new babies in our lives and try not to question their presence and long for life (and the freedom) pre-babies.  So I spent a lot of time reading articles/blogs and buying things on amazon that I thought would help some aspect of our new way of life: swaddle pods with velcro, a second rock n’ play, a second bjorn bouncer, a bottle washing brush, clothes that the babies would actually fit, more clothes because we already outgrew the other ones, and the list continues.  I read an article that said you should disconnect your credit card from your amazon account when you have a baby….I can see their point.

I walked into our two month pediatrician appointment asking about sleep training schedules and I think I surprised our doctor when I told her I had just read a sleep training book for twins.  When I think about how busy my days are now, at almost 4 months post-baby, I don’t know when I found the time to read a book.  But, then I realized, it was because I wasn’t sleeping.  You can get a lot of things done when you’re not sleeping.  Until you can’t get anything done because you’re not sleeping.  Now I am getting ready for bed at 7:30pm.

During my pregnancy and during the first few weeks/months as a new mom, what I have wanted more than anything in this world….was for someone to give me a definitive answer.  Just tell me what to do, and I will do it!  Breastfeeding.  Pumping.  Formula supplementing.  Sleep training.  Dealing with crying babies.  What I now realize, is that when it comes to pregnancy, labour and delivery, breastfeeding, babies in general, is that the most common answer you will hear is, ‘it depends’.  And what am I supposed to do with that??!

We have made it to four months with twin girls.  Sometimes I still cry when I look at their faces (out of love now, and not sleep deprivation…ok sometimes sleep deprivation).  I often want (and sometimes give in) to turn on the light at night and watch them sleep.  They watch me from across the room with their big eyes.  They give me wide mouth Buddha baby grins.  They light up and sing along to the ABC song.  I could watch Nathan playing with them forever.  And I can’t believe how they have their grandparents and aunts and uncles (and the rest of the family) wrapped around their little fingers.


Needless to say, my life is forever changed.


Sister Slave & Task Master

15 07 2014

When I was at Newark Airport I received a call from my sister.

“Make sure you check out the bathrooms at the airport!”

Not the typical demand one would normally get from their sister while on their way for a visit.  Well, the true reason for my visit to Geneva this time was to help my sister, and her two cats, move from Geneva, Switzerland to Houston, Texas.

Now, somehow we didn’t take any photos of our day (or the craziness that led up to that day) but take a few minutes to think about this.

Imagine this:



And This:



Being stuffed into carriers, taken from their home of 2 years, bundled into a cab with 6 suitcases (one freaked out Mom and one calm and composed Aunt), and surviving 20 hours of International travel.  It’s enough to make a regular person a little crazy, much less two cats who have no idea what the hell is going on.  Plus, they don’t understand when you tell them to ‘plug your nose and blow’ to pop their ears!

Now let’s back up a few days.  After Nicki and I enjoyed pastries and pastas, bottles of champagne and pretty much eating and drinking everything that was left in their apartment we had to get down to the serious business of getting her and her 2 cats packed up and ready to travel.

I kept telling people that I was going to be a Cat Companion (what a sweet gig right?), well it turns out I was really there to be a Sister Slave and also Task Master.  I watched my sister pack and unpack and repack her suitcases, move things from one side of the room to the other, from one room to the other, and keep adding things to her list, but never crossing them off.  Pretty soon I had to put my foot down.  STOP.  You need to start crossing things off this list.  What’s next?  What do we have to do today?  We can’t keep putting that off until tomorrow, we’re running out of tomorrows!

Luckily, the apartment was being packed up by professional movers, so we didn’t have to deal with the 150+ boxes that ended up being packed up and sent off the balcony to the waiting moving truck on the street.  But because we had to be in the apartment while the movers were there, we ended up being cooped up in a single room with the cats so they couldn’t escape.  It wasn’t too bad when I hung out with the cats in the master bedroom, reading and lazing away the day.  But when we moved to an empty shell of a room, sitting on an air mattress next to a portable litter box….well, things started to become a little more real (and kind of depressing).

And then came the ‘Cat Chores’ and this is where the Sister Slave comes into play.  I didn’t realize that when I showed up it meant that I had to do all of the crappy jobs.  I had to clean and disinfect the litter locker, clean out the litter box (daily), chase the cats around the apartment spraying them with dry shampoo and anti-allergen cream.  ‘Make sure you massage it in everywhere Traci – especially their butt’ – what?? I didn’t sign up for this.

And then there was the silent screaming…  We had to take both cats to the vet a couple days before we flew out and although just 2 blocks away from the house, Moosh (the grey tabby) was so terrified he started shaking and silent screaming (panting) and Oliver (the orange tabby) wouldn’t stop meowing.  Needless to say, the vet prescribed some Xanax to calm their nerves – supposed to last 8 hours a dose.  Supposed to. 

Travel Day FINALLY arrives:

4:00AM: Wake Up Time

6:00AM: Corral the cats and force Xanax pills down their throats and then watch Moosh foam at the mouth and drool all over the floor, before stuffing them both in their carriers.  (Here’s hoping the foaming stops before TSA has to look at him).

6:15AM: Cab arrives and the driver looks concerned as he looks at us –  two people, two cats, two lap top bags and six suitcases – and then looks at his wagon.

7:00AM: We’ve managed to wrangle our suitcases onto 2 carts and each have a cat.  And then Nicki puts Moosh’s carrier on the top of her cart……and he falls off.  Whoops

8:00AM: We’re in the gate waiting to board the flight and Oliver sits quietly in his carrier.  The drugs have calmed Moosh enough that he isn’t terrified out of his mind and actually knows what is happening and so he’s turning in circles, meowing and trying to claw his way out – yep this is much better than a silent cat.

9:30AM: We are finally on the plane.  Cat carriers under the seat and settled in for a 9 hour flight to Newark.  And the drugs seem to be wearing off of Oliver and he starts meowing, and meowing and meowing.  And if you know orange cats you know how vocal they can be – good thing we brought a pillow case to muffle the sound.

10AM – 12PM EST/6PM (Geneva Time):  Cats are meowing.  The drugs wore off within the first hour of the flight.  There’s attempts to claw and chew out of the carriers.  Nicki keeps prodding me and telling me I have to watch the cats.  I keep telling her that they need to learn how to self-soothe.  And there are multiple times I’m asked to check and see if they peed, smell their butts, soothe them and take them to the lavatory to let them stretch their legs.

12:30PM (EST)/6:30PM (Geneva Time):  We made it off the plane and I made it through Customs.  Nicki and the cats have to be ushered downstairs to be processed back into the country so I leave her with her two cats and suitcase, to go collect our other 4 suitcases before they need to be rechecked into the next flight.

1:00PM/7:00PM:  The last 4 suitcases to come down the chute are ours. I have 5 suitcases stacked on 2 carts and sit down to wait.  And then I get a call from Nicki’s husband – apparently she got released outside of the baggage claim area and can’t come back through.  I’m on my own with two carts and the line up to exit through customs is growing by the second.  Picture me running down the line with one cart, parking it, then running back for the second cart and running it to the back of the line and leaving the first cart on the floor until the line catches up with it.  Trying to figure out how to push these two carts at the same time, I make a friend who offers to push one of my carts.  Low and behold, 1 person + 5 suitcases = Agricultural Check!  I’m about to move these carts over when my sister comes running out from nowhere, waving her hands, ‘that’s my sister, those are my bags!’ – no cats in sight…. Now we both get ushered to the Agricultural check and she says to the officer, ‘Remember me?  Remember me?  These are my bags, this is my sister!’  I looked at him doubtfully and asked, ‘Do you remember her?’  A couple of questions later he tells us to turn around and exit (and we hear grumbling from people behind us about how we managed to talk ourselves out of the X-ray).

1:30PM/7:30PM:  So we’re home free.  We take refuge in a family bathroom and release the cats from their carriers.  Moosh is starving and can barely wait for me to get some food out of my bag.  The drugs have made Oliver mean and he keeps hissing and swatting at Moosh.  Nicki lays out a pee pad and sprinkles cat litter on it, hoping to encourage potty time before our next flight.  No such luck – so she starts spraying this Feliway spray in and around the carriers to prevent territory marking.  All we need to do is go through security one more time, get on another flight and then 4 hours until we arrive in Houston.  No problem.

2:00PM/8:00PM:  Cats out of the carriers and carried through security.  No problem.  Hands swiped and tested since we’re traveling with animals.  No problem.  Oh wait, Nicki has a problem.  The cats and I are released and Nicki has to be patted down and analyzed.  So we set up camp on a bench, I do a little work, the cats get a little napping time in, and then a TSA officer comes up to me and says, ‘your sister wanted me to tell you that she’s tested positive twice for bomb making chemicals, so we have to call in a specialist.  It’s going to take a while.’  Ooookkayyy.   30 minutes later she’s released, and the culprit was most likely the Feliway Spray that she has been spraying everywhere for days.

3:00PM/9PM:  Another dose of Xanax forced down and on our way to board.  BEEEP.  What?  Your seats have been
changed, no animals allowed on that row, so you’re sitting in different rows now.  
Initial moment of panic is easily remedied and the man sitting next to me in the middle seat didn’t take too much convincing to move into an aisle seat.  Too bad the man sitting on the aisle looked at us and said, ‘I’m allergic to cats….’  ‘just kidding!’  Settled with both cats sleeping.  What?  Is this what it feels like not to be traveling with two needy cats (or kids?)  We made it until an hour before the flight ended before the meowing, clawing and biting started up again.

6:00PM CST/1AM:  We arrive in Houston and the humidity in the air is as thick as molasses as we leave the plane.  Yuck.  But this time, all we need to do is make a Family Bathroom pit stop, pick up our bags and we’re out of here!  The end is so close.  Perhaps we lost our focus a little bit.  Got a little cocky.  As I’m texting our terminal info, Nicki puts Oliver’s carrier on top of her rolley carry-on and goes to get carts.  And down goes Oliver.  Another cat dropped by their Mama.

7:30PM CST/2:30AM:  We made it home!!  The cats have been released from their carriers for good after 20 hours of travel. Oliver is still hissing at Moosh, but other than that they don’t seem to be too traumatized from the day’s events.

photo 2

Moosh finally getting the space he needs

photo 4

Oliver sleeping off the drugs

10PM CST/7AM:  Bed Time.  Finally.  After 27 hours of being awake and dealing with (and dropping) traumatized, meowing cats, feeling for wet pee pads, being covered in fur, tested (and stopped) for bomb chemicals, the day is finally over.  One Sister and Two Cats have been moved 5200+ miles.

Success!  Just one more 4 hour flight back to Seattle for me and we’ll call that Sister Favour Complete!



Fantasy Dining On & Below the Bay

15 01 2014

Although I don’t have any photos – let me see if I can paint you a picture.

The hustle and bustle of San Francisco.  The Ferry Building.  As the clock strikes 6PM, the crowds part and 6 friends find each other to reconnect for one night of the year.  Who knows what adventures will unfold.  First stop:  Hard Water – a whiskey bar that has floor to ceiling lit shelves of every type of whiskey, artisan ice cubes and the most savory smelling fried chicken I’ve ever had the pleasure to watch as it was walked across the room from kitchen to patron.

Second Stop:  Forbes Island – which you probably would never think about but most likely have seen it when you went to watch the sea lions barking up a storm at Pier 39 (by the way – they have returned).  The website says ‘Fantasy dining on & below the bay’ and that pretty much sums it up.  You board a pontoon boat and take a 2 minute (maybe) boat ride past the sea lions to dock at Forbes Island.  There’s a restaurant on and below the water and a lighthouse with an observation deck that gives you a view of the skyline.  It’s an odd experience.  It’s kind of like you’re in an overstuffed boat with chandeliers rocking on the ceiling, port holes – some with stained glass art and some just glass so you can watch crab and fish swim right by you as you dine.  As you sit down to eat, the water level is right at your head and you can feel the subtle rock and sway of the ‘island’ as it bobs in the water or gets hit with wake from the boats in the bay.  You get used to the motion of the ocean (hopefully before you get sea sick) but it doesn’t help when the servers rock back and forth on their heels to counteract the movement.  It’s a whoozy experience, but definitely a memorable one.  And the women’s bathroom – it’s like you’re entering into the captain’s quarters – bed and everything!

The food was tasty, the bubbly was bubbly, the experience was odd and kitschy but nothing could outshine the laughter and the jokes and the stories that were told and the stories that will be retold from that night.

Getting Back to Words

1 11 2013

Right now I feel like I’m living in a life of spreadsheets.  A life of numbers and formulas, of cells and columns and rows.  It’s been a long time since I wrote anything on the blog (sorry).  Part of it is procrastination and another part is probably because I compare my current adventures with my past adventures and come up lacking.  Last year around this time of year (end of summer into Fall), I had a writing hiatus too.  And the thing is, it’s not like we haven’t had adventures, travelled, experienced weird and random things and taken photos of it all.

Truthfully, I should probably change the name of the blog.  Not necessarily ‘Adventures on the Road’ anymore since we stopped criss-crossing across the US and living out of hotel rooms and instead put down roots and have called Seattle, WA home for a good year now.  We have packed away the ‘big enough to live out of’ suitcases and instead have a 2 – 3 day trip bag on standby at all times.  We may not have ‘Adventures on the Road’ anymore, but we still have adventures, and the reason why you haven’t heard about them is because I haven’t felt inspired to write the stories.  I haven’t had the post write itself in my head while I’m sitting staring out the window or lying in bed.  I haven’t thought of the perfect opening sentence.  In my free time, and I admit, I have quite a bit of free time on my hands, I have buried my head in spreadsheets, forecasted revenues, worried over expenses that just keep adding up, and also played stupid games on the ipad that take up hours of my day.  It’s kind of like I gave up on writing.  I embraced and leaned towards excel spreadsheets instead of Microsoft word.  But, I can’t blame all of my writer’s block on spreadsheets and counting money.  I also have used these excuses not to write, ‘yes the photos are nice, but we never made it to the top of the hike, so should I just wait until we finish the hike one day’ or ‘I can’t do a post about this trip now because we’re planning on going again with someone else and it’ll ruin the surprise’, or maybe the best (worst) excuse, ‘it’s too sunny in Seattle now to post because I wanted to talk about how it’s foggy and gray and I needed to revisit the sunshine’.  Lots of excuses.  Weak.  I know.  Excuses no more.

This past weekend we took a trip to Seattle’s Woodland Zoo with their annual Halloween festivities.  I had my eyes on the hunt for my beloved lion costume with the big mane, but sadly, no luck.  In exchange we were rewarded by antics by the real lion cubs and their mom playing with pumpkins.  And if these cute one year old lion cubs rolling around on their backs, thumping their back feet against the pumpkin like a cat with a toy, don’t make your heart melt and make you think about the time you held a lion cub in your arms and had lion fur on your sweater…..then I don’t know what will.


1 year old Lion Cubs at Woodland Zoo







Baby Girl


Proud Mama

And one last photo, which I think, tells its own story….and goes something like this,

Hmmpth, I’m not talking to you anymore.’ 

What did I say?  I asked you if you wanted any…’


Spousal Dispute

Wait….Am I Boring?

10 12 2012

Sometimes it takes a question as simple as ‘what’s new with you?’ to make you jump up and realize that things need to change.  Or sometimes to make you realize that things have changed.

Someone asked me that simple question a couple weeks ago, ‘what’s new with you?’ and I realized that for the first time in a long time, I had nothing to report.  After four years of a life that was constantly in motion, where I was in a constant stage of waiting for the next leg of the trip, with no need to make plans because something would always come up, and inevitably, any plans that I did make would have to be cancelled, the fact that I had nothing exciting to report, nor did I have any immediate plans, kind of threw me.

At first I rushed into immediate plans.  I headed to the city to get lost in the hustle and bustle of downtown Seattle, trying to wake myself up from the West Seattle haze I had found myself in.  Don’t get me wrong, I love West Seattle, but not a ton of excitement minus the orca whale sightings.  I scoured the event listings and bought tickets for the Seattle Symphony, the holiday show at the 5th Avenue Theater, and found myself at the Showbox at the Market on a Monday night seeing ‘Walk Off the Earth’ live (who would have thought that youtube video we watched a year ago would come back around like this?). 

Showbox at the Market (Seattle, WA)

Showbox at the Market (Seattle, WA)

Walk Off the Earth "Somebody I Used to Know"

Walk Off the Earth “Somebody I Used to Know”


Summer Jammin’

After that initial panic that I was wasting away my days, I realized that not being on the road and traveling constantly was actually a good thing.   It’s true that in the past few years I never had to make any plans for adventure because there was no way I could avoid a last minute trip to NYC, a weekend in Chicago, an opportunity to see Martha’s Vineyard, have access to concerts, or have the opportunity to sing ‘on the road again’ again and again as we drove straight across the country for the 5th time that year.  But for the past few years I never made plans.  It seemed like I could never make a dr’s appointment, much less attend a neighbour’s holiday party or BBQ.  I sounded like a recording stuck on repeat, ‘who knows where I’ll be.  I’ll let you know, but probably won’t be able to make it’.  And it’s a little hard to make new friends when you can never commit to spending time with them.

It hit me suddenly that now I have the freedom to MAKE PLANS.  To commit to a schedule.  What??  The value of having the freedom to commit to a schedule?  Who would have thought that that was important?  Well, I have now thrown myself into ‘planning’ wholeheartedly.  A girl’s night, a weekly grocery shopping trip, a holiday ornament exchange, hosting a Christmas Cocktail Party, attending a friend’s holiday party – all things that I can say have happened in the last week, or will be happening in the week to come.

So, what at first seemed like a horrible realization that the excitement in my life was dependent on the twists and turns of work (which means I’m actually a very boring person), has now turned into the fantastic realization that I’m in control of my own adventures (and that I’m not actually a boring person by nature), and part of that adventure is this new opportunity to put down some roots!

The Power of the Written Word

19 10 2012

I’m having a weird reflective moment that I’m not quite sure how to explain.  I just read a blog post  (http://thehandwrittenlife.wordpress.com/2012/10/17/burning-bridges) that was about burning bridges; about making a decision whether or not to turn your back on someone who has been a part of your life, a part of ‘who you are’, but being torn because as much pain as you’ve felt because of that person, you’ve also felt the love – and which one is stronger?

Now, I think that that scenario and personal experience is something that everyone can relate to, in some shape or form.  But what made me react so strongly is to see how everyone else reacted so strongly.  Because if you are riding that same emotional roller coaster, or have just gotten off (or thrown off) that ride, well I think it would be hard not to feel ‘moved’ by the writing.  What was written has the ability to tug at your emotions and provoke you to respond because it strikes a chord in your memories and can dredge up some painful personal memories and experiences (and tears, probably a lot of tears).

So my odd reflective moment is seeing this all from a distance.  Yes – I have been torn in the past about whether or not to let someone go.  But, since that was long in the past (and I’m really quite happy right now), I’m impressed with the power of writing about a personal experience and all of the different ways it can be received and reflected upon and how it can provoke  such a strong response (written and emotional), depending on where the reader is in their life.

Last year I wrote a post inspired by the ‘Dear Me: A Letter to My Sixteen Year Old Self’ series.  I read some of the letters, it inspired me to write my own, and despite knowing that it was personal, I wasn’t unleashing any deep, dark secrets.  But the response was overwhelming – greatly appreciative that I shared my story, a feeling of personal connection, a solution to their own personal reflection, a lot of personal stories shared with me, and only a few negative comments about how trivial my problems were (but it still made a big enough impact to provoke a response, right?).  In my efforts to write something that was worthy of the jolt of inspiration I felt, I never imagined that it would strike a chord with so many people.  But I guess that’s my ‘aha’ moment today.  You never know who’s reading and what effect you can have on others – whether it’s deeply personal turmoil, or ‘tongue and cheek’ reflection, when you write from the heart, you have the ability to connect emotionally and sometimes, inspire.

Road Blocks

7 10 2012

There have been many times when I’ve had an idea for a blog post.  After a trip, I have gotten a sudden wave of inspiration of this funny tale to tell about, for example, how I got trapped inside a San Franciscan public restroom as water came flooding into the little oblong capsule and as I kicked and yelled to try to get out, I felt like I was in some sort of Hunger Games booby-trapped room.  (This made me realize that I may have read the Hunger Games Trilogy one too many times). 


But once it came down to sitting down to write this funny little anecdote, I couldn’t do it.  The story never really came together on the page, and it sounded so much funnier in my head.  But it was definitely a story that I wanted to tell, and because I couldn’t figure out how to tell it, and because I am somewhat anal about wanting to tell stories in order of when they happened, I was stuck.  Since that horrifying experience thinking that I was trapped in a bathroom at Twin Peaks, I have gone to Napa and driven through wine country, I’ve taken a gondola ride up Crystal Mountain and seen crystal clear views of Mount Rainier, I’ve explored Pike’s Market and bought fresh seafood, taken water taxis and watched sea lions frolic, and seen the sun rise over the Ferry Building and Bay Bridge.  A lot has happened since those 90 seconds of bathroom terror.  But still, I haven’t been able to move forward since I couldn’t get past this one insignificant, but embarrassing moment in time.

Castella Di Amorosa

Up Close and Personal to my Friend Vino

Mt. Rainier View from Crystal Mountain

Mt. Rainier

Seattle Skyline

Early Morning at the Bay Bridge

This reminds me of when I was young.  Maybe 13 or 14 and I decided to try my hand at drawing.  Both my sister and brother are artistically gifted, and I on the other hand, always willed my hands to be able to create some masterpiece when I put pencil to paper, but it never felt like anything came of it.  But on this day, I decided I was going to use some sketch paper and one of those artist’s pencils and I was going to make a teddy bear be my subject. 

I drew feathery strokes on the paper.  Tried to do a little shading to create depth.  And I really wanted to capture that perfect glint in my teddy bear’s eye.  When I finished my drawing, I was so impressed with myself.  I patted myself on the back and showed it off to everyone.  I truly felt like I had overcome some sort of obstacle and that I did have some sort of artistic gene in my body.  But even though there is the saying that ‘practice makes perfect’ and that every talent needs to be continually worked on and practiced to evolve and improve, I decided that there was no way that I could draw any better than that.  I had peaked.  And anything that I drew after that point would surely not meet up to my now high expectations of myself.  So, that was it.  That was the last drawing that I drew…never allowing myself to improve or fail.

I don’t really know what all that says about me, (maybe I’m a control freak?), but during the last few months of my writing absence where I’ve felt like I couldn’t produce the quality of writing that I expected of myself, I realized today that I love writing too much just to stop because I haven’t been able to tell a story the way that I wanted to.  Perhaps one of these days I’ll be able to perfect my San Franciscan bathroom story, but for now at least, I won’t let not being able to tell that story prevent me from moving forward.

On to new adventures and life lessons….

Moving On…