Top 10 List- Farewell David Letterman

Hard to believe there will be no more late nights with David Letterman. In the spirit of him and because we are so slow at work, I present two (2?!!) top 10 list:

Top 10 albums I could listen to over & over again while laying on the floor:

Plans by Death Cab for Cutie

Give Up by The Postal Service

Ghost by Radical Face

Enema of the State by Blink 182

A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar by Dashboard Confessinal

The Con by Tegan & Sara

Live Across a Wire by Counting Crows

Speak for Yourself by Imogene Heap

Bleed American by Jimmy Eat World

() by Sigur Ros

Top 10 film I can't get out of my head:

The Cove- dolphin killing in Japan

We Need to Talk about Kevin

Fork over Knives

Interstellar

Waking Life- words can't express. Watch it. 

Looper- Rian Johnson's first blockbuster film. Fantastic. His earlier films are good too. 

The Matrix

April Showers- about the Columbine shootings. Directed by a surviver. 

Romeo + Juliet- the 90s version. Every teens' heart collectively swooned at this one. 

Stand by Me- for nostalgic reasons. When I watched it in college I was shocked my parents actually let me watch it as a kid. When I asked my mom about all the cussing she said, "I knew you wouldn't remember the cussing." Sure enough, I didnt. And there's River Phoenix. He's the reason I love nature names and I hope to name a kid Basil or Cedar on day. 

There you are. 

Rest in Peace Bergamot

I lost a good hen yesterday. Bergamot was a sweet tempered Muran that laid beautiful darker brown eggs. She was three this spring.

I like the idea of an "urban farmer" but I realized there is one crucial element of having any sort of animals that I do not possess. I am not able to kill. The sad reality is that I knew she was not doing well for several months and she should have been culled to put her out of her misery. But I could not do it.

I was raised around hunters and have many memories of my dad and his cousin dressing deer in the shed after a successful morning. One very fond memory of deer brains plopping out of the top of a deer skull and a barn cat eating the warm organ. The texture reminded me of what the bottom of pizza looks like when you take off the toppings and lick off the sauce. Yummy.

I would ask my dad if he "caught a deer" and he would reply he did not catch it but killed it. It never stuck and often I would ask if he caught one after being out. Maybe I didn't want to make the connection between my dad being out, a dead deer and the delicious meat that was in our freezer.

It was the same way with fishing. My sister and I would reluctantly go with my dad but there was no way I was a) touching the worm or b) touching the fish that ate the worm! I thought I was pretty good a fishing since my worm always go eaten but I never wanted anything to do with the fish on the end.

All my life I either saw animals alive or dead but not in the in between stage. That thin line between this world and the next. From movies that thin line was filled with suffering before it ended. It was violent, painful, scary. In real life that thin line is also filled with those things and we all hope for the opposite. We hope for peace and a quiet ending. I do not want to be a part of that thin line since the stakes are high that peace is not the way it will happen.

I am grateful Bergamot went quietly. I sensed something was happening yesterday afternoon while we were washing strawberries. She was poking around the shed by the dirt. She laid down like she always did but something was off. When I peaked out a few minutes later her head rested on her breast in such a way that I knew she had crossed over. So quick. In an instant. Life. Death. She was a good chicken.

Thanks for the eggs and the enjoyment of watching you poke around the backyard. I am glad you got to see some snow this winter.

Contentment

I stumble across articles with titles like, "The Year I was Single" and "The Year I Stopped Dating" and I think to myself that I've spend more years alone than with someone. More years doing what I want instead of doing what we collectively decide to do.

Being single in my 30s much easier and stressless than being single in my 20s. Part of that is a confidence that I can do many things without someone and still be happy. My confidence wavered in my 20s and the thought of being alone forever was too daunting, so I remedied it. I thought marriage would make me less alone. Instead I found that all the things I enjoyed my husband did not and vice versa. Alone in a house you create together is harder than being alone in a house you construct with your hands.

There is also the idea that I don't really care. I don't care to stress out about who will be there, who I'll meet, what will happen. All I have is now so I'll do what I want and if I find someone doing some of those same things then maybe we can do things together. But if not, I am still doing what is best for me. It's simple and I wish I would have know this 10 years ago. Thankfully lessons can still be learned.

For now I am content. For now I am happy. For now I am alone but not lonely and that is all the difference.

It is liberating to think about writing something like this on a Saturday night, just me, some Son Lux, a book and a quiet house. My goal is to always be in a state like this. Not wanting what I don't have but enjoying what I do.

What if I don't know what I want?

And he asked what I wanted. A simple question that I can typically answer, but at the moment I could not. Theoretically I want security and someone who wants to do life together. Someone who I adore, respect, someone who is funny and knows who he is. I want someone who is my other half, the opposite side of the coin. Some would say a fairytale.... maybe?

I've learned that "opposites attract" is bogus. Too many compromises. Too much conflict.

Practically I found what I wanted in very few people. Most I know in four seconds if it will work. It will not.  Of most of the others, a spark never ignites. None have ever happened to live in the same city or state (or country, more like it) and after doing long distance once, is not something I can bear to do again. I typically want to keep exploring and keep searching but this time around, I feel settled. I don't have the acute voice whispering it's time to leave again. At first? Yes, out of sheer desperation but now that things have settled, moving is less appealing. My roots want to grow.

My mom always said I seemed unsettled, always searching, but she never knew for what. Maybe I'll always be searching. Maybe it's a part of being a young soul. Maybe it will always be like this.

Maybe what I really need to to embrace it and stop fighting. Search but learn to be still.

Dream States and Waking States

It feels like a dream where I wake a little confused and sweaty except I own a house and have photos that attest to the fact that it was not a dream.

Like discovering my stuffed bunny in the garage after a night of sleep walking when I was little.

Let me hit the snooze button for five minutes. That's all I need for clarity.

Land Sharks

The last time I felt absolutely, physically exhausted was in 2004. Four of us went to Charleston to surf at Folly Beach. We were about to graduate from college and we wanted to get away one last time before post college plans split us up. Luckily the two guys knew how to surf and in no time the four of us were up and riding the tiny waves on long boards as big a boats.

It was exhilarating. 

It always takes me a long time to warm up to the beach and the water. Too much Shark Week and too big of an imagination often keeps me no farther than hip high in any water I can't see through. (Even in crystal clear water my concern then turns to what is UNDER me that will want to devour me. I can't seem to win...) but after the rush of getting up on the board, falling off and nothing happening, I quickly paddled out again and again to catch another wave. I understood the appeal.

After the real last "one more" we sloshed out of the water, happy, exhausted and hungry. Every ounce over extended, over used and ready to stop and the sad realization hit me: WE had to pack up all our stuff. My dad wasn't there to do it for us. Boards, igloos and towels that we so easily carried in the morning, now had to go back. Weighing more than I thought possible, we drug everything back, making multiple trips over shifting sand. 

I had my first fish taco that night and we hung out as late as possible to postpone going back to the crappy, cheap hotel that boasted "We leave the light on." No, please don't. No one really wants to see what's there. We slept a dreamless, full sleep and woke again to surf the next day before driving back.

Since then I've not been that exhausted. Even Day Two, the longest hiking day in Peru, that lead us up to a snowy 13000 feet and down into high jungle for twelve hours did not feel that exhausting. Knees hurt and mentally tired, yes, but drop dead exhausted? Nope. 

Day 2 of Salkantay Trail

Almost top of Salkantay Mountain. The next six hours were all down hill.... ugh.

I'm in the market for something that makes me exhausted again. Preferably on land. :)

The Year of the Flood

The first day of the last month of spring. Being a gardener I always pay attention to frost days, daily highs and lows of the temp, expected rain, etc. Knowing the seasons and what to expect create a grounding to the earth, a grounding to generations before me, a grounding for myself.

When life gets swiftly uprooted, any sort of grounding is sought.

I am not one with deep roots to any physical location. Shallow roots have been passed on from those before me. My family comes from many areas and we are now scattered throughout the U.S. We are like the grass that way. Shallow roots are comfortable in the "that's all I've ever known" sense even though I long for a deep tap root somewhere.

Five years ago on this day, the rain began. These rains that at first seemed purifying quickly turned destructive in volume. Rains that would keep schools closed for days, rains that would isolate East Nashville from the rest of Nashville, rains that would flood any low lying areas.

It is on this day that I will began to blog again. Something I've not done since college and I now have the time and the interest and just maybe there will be an audience. This will be my search for grounding as the seasons change. Someone said to not get to Old Testament with the seasons, but seasons are something I understand and something I can expect, so seasons it will be.

This is the season where little seeds are growing roots and creating a foundation for the future. Although nothing appears on the surface of the field, a network of little roots laces underneath, creating a strong place for a plant to break through the soil. This will be my attempt to grow more roots, to find my foundation again, to hide underneath the soil for a while. It might get a little dirty, but it is necessary.

Welcome. It's time for the sleeper to wake. It's time for the seed to spout.