BAD. ASS. ♥️

I got a tattoo! My first.

On my hip, and it hurt like a mother forker!!

But it means a lot to me, for a variety of reasons that are close to my heart. The pain was momentary, and worth it!

I chose my hip because this tattoo is for me, and me alone. I want it as a daily reminder of who I am; I don’t want to forget what I can do, how strong I am, or how worthy I am.

Also, in regard to the divisional matchups this weekend: GO EAGLES! #flyeaglesfly




What kind of year has it been part 2

I tried this a couple weeks ago and it went off the rails in one particular direction. Oh dear. Let’s take romance, or lack thereof, out of the equation.

You know how football teams have rebuild years? That was this year for me. It was all about transition and growth this year. Acceptance. Hard truths. Change. Gearing up and preparing for what comes next.

What does come next?

Well, a new job, I think, inshallah. I’m working on my resume right now. 12 years later and I feel like I don’t know how to characterize what I’ve done in that time.

My youngest will be 14 here in a second. My oldest will be 16 soon. He’s getting his driver’s permit in a few weeks.

I need to figure out how to continue the workouts regime I had started last year. My wonderful trainer isn’t offering regular classes anymore and since the move started this past summer everything had just dropped off. I’ve only worked out haphazardly but, truly, I love the classes. They help me so much.

Job first though. I don’t know how to solve for two life-altering problems at one time. I truly do not.

But – this is the big one – I need to fix my mind. My outlook.

I am so cautious. So afraid. So scared that I will make a mistake. It paralyzes me sometimes from making necessary decisions.

When I was young my aunt said I was fearless. I want to be be fearless again. I want to be undaunted. I want be that woman that when she wakes the devil says, “uh-oh, she’s up!”

How do I become a badass again?

I said I wasn’t going to talk about romance but I have a quick thought: what I thought I wanted was false. What I want is yet to be found, but I feel like it will scare me and intrigue me and lighten my soul when it does happen.

I am so worthy of love. And I do want to give that love in return. I have too much to give for someone not to gravitate to my heart & my arms eventually. I need to hold that faith hard and focus on making myself the best version of me that I can possibly be.

I’m so scared as I step into 2018 but I’m trying desperately to shake off that mantle and step bravely ahead. I know there’s joy & contentment there if I just put a little elbow grease into it.

Dear heavenly creator, thank you for this day! Thank you that I woke up, all my loved ones awoke, and they thrived in their joys. I laid in bed this morning feeling gratitude for the shelter over my head, my warm blankets, and my health, and the health of the people I love so dearly. Please continue to provide loving perspective to their actions and help guide them to their joy and happiness. Please help me to be humble, loving, compassionate, inspired, and unselfish in my desires. I want to be proud of everything I do.


I wish this all for you too. I love you, as I love the stranger sitting next to me at this bar (as I sip my chocolate martini and listen the the gorgeousness that is Blaze & Kelly strumming at their guitars and crooning into their microphones) and I wish each of you joy, success, and love in 2018.

If this is a rebuild year for you then please know you WILL get through this.

If you are stuck in your life please explore your joy. You’re not a tree.

And if you’re somewhere in-between, you have my support. Make your decisions with good, measured balance and you will come out ahead.

All my love, and all the light I can possibly muster!



God sends us reminders

I’m not overly religious but I do attend church. A progressive church – a UCC – where the Bible isn’t used as literal history but more of a book of lessons. I love it.

So the other day I was lamenting. I was lonely, sad, wishing for love, scared for my future … and then I had a couple of great days and, man, did I ever need that!

First a bunch of my friends from my former workout studio came over last night and hung out. We ate, talked, and did a white elephant gift exchange and it was fabulous. I’m so grateful for these precious, beautiful, smart, amazing, strong women.

Then, today, my boys & I hung out, went to lunch, Christmas shopping, and they didn’t complain or give me a hard time and it was perfect. And I realized, THIS is my future. THIS is my love. Whether I ever have romantic love in my life again or not, I will have these two fantastic humans. If I lose my house and have to make ends meet the best I can, I will still have these two people to make my life full. They are so special.

The ebb and flow of life happens naturally. We have the remember to always count our blessings as we go.

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year to you & yours. May your 2018 be full of joy & light! It WILL be a good year.



What kind of year has it been?

I could easily make this post about the atrocious politics we’ve witnessed in the U.S. this year. I’ve never experienced a time when the daily news cycle affected me so completely.

But I can’t think about that for the purpose of this. I need to reach within and find how I feel. That’s hard for me. I fluctuate between survival mode & joy. Survival mode is when emotion gets squelched as much as possible. It’s not that I don’t feel, but I consciously minimize it and reduce my reaction to it. Joy is when I’m so content I can’t find the negative. Or I choose not to see the negative. On second thought maybe that’s part of survival mode too.

But that’s not healthy. I have so much self-doubt. I have such a fear of making the wrong decision. This year has been, and is still, pushing me way beyond my comfort zone. I sold my house of 12 years and bought a new one. Was that the right decision? How do I know? How do I even quantify that answer?

I was so sad to leave the old house. So sad to walk away from the memories and the feeling of Home that house always gave me. I just have to keep telling myself it was the right thing to do. It was. It was, it was, it was.


I don’t talk about my work here very much and I’ll keep this brief: soon I very likely will not have a job. I am starting to look for a new one. After 12 years.

Man, when I turned 42 and I took that quote from the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and adopted it as my motto for this year, I had no idea all THIS would happen. The ultimate answer to life, the universe & everything is 42. I had no idea that would mean a new house and, hopefully a new job/career.

If you pray, please pray. If you chant, meditate, or send positive vibes, please do so. Light a candle for me. I’m a single mom with only one source of income. I don’t get child support; I pay it. I just bought a new house. I’m still paying all the joint bills from my marriage. I need to not be out of a job and I’m so scared every single day right now I feel paralyzed. Note: Being paralyzed is not how to find a new job.


And with all this would it shock you to find out I’m still looking for love? I don’t know why I haven’t given up. I just need to believe that I am lovable. That someone will come along and see through my facade of bravado, see all my little broken pieces, and love me anyway.

He will:

  • When first meeting me, he will approach me with respect. He will feel compelled to meet me.
  • He will ask for my number. He will try to learn about me. He will be interested in the words that come from my mouth.
  • He will call or text when he says he’s going to. And before we sign off talking he will tell me when next I’ll hear from him. He’ll take the lead. He’ll tell me about his life. He’ll want me to know all the things that make him who he is.
  • He will be kind, compassionate, empathetic, smart, creative, thoughtful, loving, funny and generally a pretty happy and content person. A positive person.
  • When he asks me on a date, he’ll plan it or at least give me options. He’ll take my comfort & safety into account. If he brings me flowers I guarantee to be impressed and happy.
  • He’ll try to open my doors for me and he will good-naturedly roll with it when I open my own doors because I’m an independent woman, dammit. But he will keep trying. I secretly love that.
  • If we walk down the street he’ll make sure he’s closer to the curb. If I’m wearing heels he’ll offer his arm.
  • He’ll ask me when he can see me again before we even end the first date, and he’ll text me good night when he gets home.
  • When he meets my sons, which he will want to do, he’ll be inclined to love them because they’re mine, and because they’re wonderful.
  • He’ll love Friday night family movie nights, with pizza & popcorn.
  • He’ll call me on Saturdays at 8 AM and say get dressed, let’s go to breakfast & the Saturday market. Or get the boys and let’s go on an adventure! Let’s go find a hot spring! Or on a Saturday night, let’s go find a great spot in the country to look at stars, listen to music & kiss.
  • And he’ll want to walk with me in public, and hold my hand, and be proud to call me his partner.
  • And when I’m upset or sad or mad, he’ll tell me everything will be alright and we’ll get through this together. He’ll understand my mad is usually frustration. My sad is usually unresolved pain. My upset is usually a hurt. He’ll want to mend me because he doesn’t like seeing my frustration, pain or hurt.
  • He will be independent, strong, capable, and he will be good with fixing things because I think people who fix things don’t throw away value.

Does he exist?

I think he must. I know it’s a long list but, honestly, the things I want to be for him, to reciprocate, is an even longer list. I’m so eager to love & be loved it permeates my thoughts.

I wish I had him to talk about my work struggles with, or to share my concerns about our government, or to just try a new restaurant. I want him to know that I don’t like onions on my burgers unless it’s haystack onions, and I like my steaks medium rare. I’ll know that he doesn’t like tomatoes. He’ll know that my favorite type of frozen yogurt is Dole pineapple mixed with coconut. He’ll know that scary movies are no bueno, and that Eagles football is life Sept-Dec.

I want a partner.

And, as Frida says, I want to take a lover that looks at me like maybe I’m magic.


I moved my home. I’m about to change jobs/careers. I CAN do hard things. Alone. I can do hard things alone. I’m just tired & sad that I have to.

My marriage has been over for at least 4 1/2 years. I’m a good person. I’m a good woman. Where is he?

I wish all of you love & light & joy & stability in your life.



Whoa Fall!

It’s been a super weird couple of months, hasn’t it?

I look at people’s lives on Instagram or Facebook and sometimes it just seems so normal. Gathering materials for Christmas decor and making gifts, hosting an elaborate Thanksgiving meal with custom-made centerpieces, or planning & taking trips … it’s just so normal!

In meantime, I can’t find my iron. I’m troubleshooting getting local channels with the digital antenna LIKE I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING, and I still don’t know where to store excess linens in this house.

So let’s just look at these gorgeous flowers instead (because flowers can start the healing process for all sorts of wounds):

Did I mention that I started renovations on my kitchen too? Because one can never have too much going on. It’s fun living in a house with no cabinets & all the utensils are spilled across the dining room table for 7 days all at the same time your 15 year old son is starting driver’s ed & training and needs to be picked up and taken to school at odd times 3 days a week. That’s fun. Let’s do it again.

But, my goodness, look at those cabinets. Worth every stinkin’ penny.

We WILL do the chaos again as soon as I’m ready to replace the countertop. Soon. Ish.

But, hey, I decorated my living room!

And Nigel the Australian handyman is the bomb dot com. (My son tells me I’m aging myself when I say that. I told him to make like a tree and get out of here). Nigel calls me “mate.”

But, hey, I got new lipstick so WINNING. I got a new book too. Thank goodness for books. And lipstick that makes a woman feel like a million bucks. Or at least half that.

But there’s this. Both above & below. Being realistic means never finding the love again I thought I had. Being a romantic means never losing that hope.

So, also, see below, there’s a couple things in one of my boobs being watched. Every 6 months for 2 years, I think. Have I mentioned my sister died of cancer a little over two years ago and that cancer originated as breast cancer??? But she’s not blood so I wouldn’t share that through family blood with her, but I don’t want to share it through experience either. So far, so good. Knock on wood.

The pic below was just following a boob ultrasound. (Plus new lipstick. A MUST when dealing with this adult shit).

The above pic is of a new little enclave of friends that I’ve been sucked into, willingly, and surprisingly! The dude on the right is a chef. He’s also become an incredible friend. The woman between us is his life partner. The bottle is an awesome brainchild! A new flavored whiskey. I helped bottle the first batch! I touched every single bottle that day and it was an incredible experience.

See above? Fancy hair. That’s really the only remarkable thing about that night.

I spoke recently for law enforcement in the LA area. They gave me this. Experiences like this are fantastic and I think, sometimes, how is this my life?

My boys are … unusually & exceedingly peculiar and quite impossible to describe! And beautiful, loving, sweet, and they keep growing. I never sanctioned that.

But, honestly, how did I get this lucky?

This last one, this little meme, is not for me but for you. You, my friend, my estranged (and sometimes strange) friend, plus all of you who I don’t know, I am praying for your happiness. Your peace. I want nothing more than for you to have peace in your heart, and I want that for myself too.

I pray for your happiness, for your peace, and for your joy, like I pray for my own.



New Home Feels 

My sons & I have a new home. The tree in the front yard has turned yellow with the season, like some awesome blessing upon the house.

I didn’t fall in love with this house like our last one. That one was unique; this one is s little more cookie cutter than I would typically like. But it’s so damned live-able! Less maintenance = easier life. Plus it’s in a fantastic neighborhood, and that ended up being the deciding factor for me.

This house has peace woven into the carpet, painted into the walls, nailed into the frame, and its wafting from the vents. PEACE.

Physically, it’s an easy house, quiet location, and keep-to-themselves neighbors (though everyone was super nice who came to the door on Halloween!). But beyond the quiet, easy living, there’s something else. There’s no pain. There’s no memories. There’s no “oh that’s where the hole in the wall was after someone got angry” or that’s where I was when this, or that, was said or done. Not that I’m without fault. I threw the fondue pot once. It was empty. I threw a cup once. That was a bad time. Then it got better. Until it wasn’t.

Bad memories, good memories – both are painful. I need my own house. I need my space, my very own, made by me, to reflect me, and my soul, my heart, my joy, and my love. This house is built with love, peace, and joy.

It’s not my dream house … except it is!

#42 checklist: ✔️ buy new home by yourself.

Never stop working towards the goal, even if it’s not always clear. Dream sideways when you can’t see in front of you.



The Promise of Tomorrow 

Today was a hard day. But that’s okay. I will survive and keep going because I have hope. 

The Promise of Tomorrow

Bukra, inshallah: 

Tomorrow when I wake,

I’ll have the expectation of joy.

Tomorrow when I wake,

A smile at my lips will toy.

Bukra, inshallah:

I will remember these things:

Someone said that I am amazing. 

I will remember these things:

Someone said that I am deserving.

Bukra, inshallah: 

When my foot hits the ground

I’ll rejoice in the weight it holds.

When my foot hits the ground 

I’ll strike a dance like 20 year olds. 

Bukra, inshallah:

I will remember that love exists.

I will remember holding my children tightly. 

I will remember how laughter feels. 

I will remember the promise of tomorrow. 




Today is my birthday. I don’t much mind the birthday itself. I think 42 is going to be a fantastic age, and a grand year in almost all respects. 

A dear friend once told me his philosophy on life. He said life is like a pie. It’s cut into 6 or 8 pieces and all of those pieces represent different parts of your life. One piece is for joy & satisfaction from your children. Another is job satisfaction. Another is spiritual peace. Another is sex. And so on. One is romantic love: the satisfaction, joy, & contentment from knowing you love someone with your whole being & they unequivocally love you back. That you are their person. 

He contended that as long as most of the pieces of the pie were full or mostly full then that made up for the pieces that were only half full, or a quarter full. I think, though, there are some pieces that are WORTH more. That instead of being evenly divided the pie was lop-sided. That having only a quarter of a big piece was more impactful than a quarter of a smaller piece because then you still had more of the whole. 

How much can we affect the value of each piece? Can I tell myself that I don’t need romantic love and convince myself to make that piece smaller? What about sex? Sure, I can get sex if I really want it but do I want to waste my joy & vulnerability on someone that I don’t have a heart connection with? No, I don’t. I think those two pieces are woven together tightly. They should be, at least. 

So as I sit here on my 42nd birthday, the year that will provide me the answer to life, the universe, and everything, I wonder what I can do to fill up my pie more in the other areas while lacking in the love & sex pieces. Because I don’t want to dither anymore. I don’t want to waste my time. I don’t want to keep hoping for what isn’t there. I’m 42. I’m strong. Dammit, I’m a badass. (At least I was told that once or twice). 

I’m not going to settle for less than I deserve. I’m not going to settle. Period. 

My darling dearest, you come at me with love, respect, and an open heart and I’ll be here. Until then, I’m going to rebuild, strengthen, and increase every other piece of my life until I am surrounded by peace & love & hard-earned prosperity. And then, my friend, you will wish you had me to hold. You will wish you saw this power radiating in me through your narrow vision before it was too late. I will not let you oppress me. 

I have it all within me. I just need to believe it, own it, and focus. I will not be swayed. 

This is 42. This is me. 




How do we feel about being alone? Love it? Hate it? Introvert? Extrovert?

I’m sitting at a bar by myself listening to a local band I love. I am alone. I had a meal. I had drinks. I chatted briefly with a neighbor before she joined a friend. But I am alone in my enjoyment of the music. 

This isn’t new. I do this on the regular. I’ve never had much of a social life as an adult living in Idaho. I was “just a mom” for a long time. I went to work and came home. Since my divorce and as the boys have gotten older I’ve tried to develop a social life, through dating or friends. Some of those times have been better than others. I have GREAT friends but they all have tighter friends, and my BEST friends are in other states and, well, that leaves me at a bar on Saturday night alone. 

I don’t have a boyfriend. If you read my previous blog you know I have a “friend.” But my friend doesn’t want me, not in this way, and he’s curmudgeonly and would never go see live music with me at the bar. 

Sidebar: wtf am I doing with this dude? Why am I allowing him this? I don’t know. But it’s only in the absence of something I miss that actually makes me feel lonely. Lonely is not the same as alone. 

I am an introvert. I can only stand people and talking for so long. But I love talking with people I love; my little circle of trust. Where are my heart-string-pulling loves? They are away, all far away. 

And now the band plays, “how I wish, how I wish you were here. We’re just two lost souls living in a fishbowl year after year …” 

Ahhh … how I wish you were here. To hold my hand and sing along with the music with me. To thrill over it with me, and rub my back in rhythm with the music. Oh, mythical partner, how I wish you were here. 

I feel unloveable a lot. It sounds pitiful to say, I know. I don’t mean it that way. I know I have value. But I don’t know if my value is in being a loving partner. I don’t know if anybody would fall in love with me again. I feel like the only people who can love me are those who loved me when I was young, fearless, and effervescent. (Was I effervescent? I hope so). 

Anyway, though, I only say that to say this: I’m becoming so comfortable being alone I don’t know if I could meld my life with someone else’s at this point. Just over the last 4 years of living alone I’ve become comfortable in my new norm. 

Being alone is okay. It’s do-able. It’s not the dream but it’s the reality, and it’s not horrific. I can control the remote, cook what I want, and be naked when I want. (Except that part isn’t as fun alone. Just sayin’).

I was reading this article on strong, independent women and how they value being alone. Here are some quotes: 

Cheryl Strayed

“Alone had always felt like an actual place to me, as if it weren’t a state of being, but rather a room where I could retreat to be who I really was.” — Wild, March 2012

Chelsea Handler

“It’s not just O.K. to be single for both men and women — it’s wonderful to be single, and society needs to embrace singlehood in all its splendiferous, solitary glory. Next time you see a single woman, instead of asking her where her boyfriend, husband or eunuch is, congratulate her on her accomplished sense of self and for reaching the solitary mountaintop by herself without a ring on her finger weighing her down like a male paperweight. Without single women and their impressive sense of self, we’d be without Queen Elizabeth I, Marie-Sophie Germain, Susan B. Anthony, Florence Nightingale, Jane Austen, Harper Lee, Diane Keaton, Greta Garbo, Jane Goodall and me, myself and I. Being single is delightfully more than it’s cracked up to be … if you can stand the horror of your own company, that is.” — Time, May 2016

I’m alone, and that’s okay. I like it most of the time. I’d like it better if I knew it wasn’t endless though. 

Listen to this bit of sublimeness, will you?Brandi Carlile, Looking Out

To all my lonely Saturday night girls, I love you and you’re not alone, you sweet little hearts. 



Big changes are coming – part 1

Where to start, my darling dears? Where indeed! It’s been awhile. 

I left you on a dark note back in May. I came back from London disheartened. I walked back into a work environment in disarray. So many changes are happening. At this point they aren’t largely impacting me too terribly, but there’s a chance they will. 

Last week I spoke in front of our North America Sales org and it went well. I’m praying for positive momentum at work! 

There are home changes too. Literally I’m going to be changing homes! I’m about to put my home of 12 years up for sale. It was not an easy decision, however it is necessary for a multitude of reasons I won’t get into here. The boys are somewhere between excited/sad/anxious/curious. They don’t remember our previous home. Don’t worry, my sweet little men, I’ll find a good home for our future. 

Where will we land??? That is a huge question. I’ve never bought a house without my husband. We bought two together. Will I know myself well enough to figure out the right house for us? 

This is an adventure. It’s part of the journey, right? We have one life. Every day gets us closer to the end (not trying to be morbid) so why waste time treading water? 

If you’ve been around my blog long then you’ll know I started writing to get myself back. I felt I had lost myself in my marriage. I didn’t even know what I wanted or liked anymore; it was about what they wanted, what they liked. 

This is (almost) 42, and I am going to *ducking OWN IT:

Every step along the way has opened a window onto my adult soul. It allows me to figure out what fuels my fire, drives my passion. I am unapologetic as I figure out who I am; it’s a journey and I try to traverse it with as much kindness & self-awareness as I can. There will be mistakes/mishaps/errors in judgement along the way. I’m guilty. I’m not apologetic though. 

My arms hurts today from a lot of manual labor yesterday. I’m tired. But I will press on. There will be joy after this trial. 

Sometimes it’s so hard but, I have to admit, I really love my life. I love being able to determine what I’m going to do, when, and with whom. 

(These guys are always my first choice).

So much love,


* oh auto-correct. Don’t you know me by now? I hardly ever say “ducking.”