Five Things Friday (#1)

I thought that each week I could post a collection of things I'm doing, enjoying, or have on my mind. Part recap part favorite things. I'm posting this first one on a Sunday, but seeing as I'm mostly chatting into the void at this point, I don't think anyone will mind.

Music updates

I've been working hard these past six weeks on visualizing, goal setting, and risk taking. I don't like to give too much away about things I'm working on in the moment; I tend to like to keep things sacred and precious between me and my guardian angels and the powers that be. So I won't go into specifics just yet. But I have applied for some things and looked into some partnerships and am continuing to push and work hard to actualize this big ol' dream that I have.

In January I took a trip to California to attend a songwriter retreat. I'd long been saying that I wanted to go on a retreat--sit somewhere beautiful and work on my creative projects, go on walks, bonus if meals are provided. I'd also been talking a lot about wanting to go back to the central coast, and take a trip in general. This event showed up on my social media feed one day and it ticked all the boxes. I loved that it was at the beginning of the year as well, I'd have to act fast. I tend to be someone who thinks things through very carefully, I'm extremely discerning and thoughtful in my actions, while also being seemingly impulsive. When I get an urge and my gut, heart, and mind are all saying "Do it!" I do it. I can be ready to make a decision because I've done countless hours of introspection and visualization already. I knew this was something I needed to do to set the tone for my year. I'm working to create a life that is full of adventure and travel, with music at the heart of it. Going on this trip was putting me in alignment with those desires in a bold way, and the exposure therapy was great for my fear of flying. I went armed with two Xanax and I not only didn't take them, I feel ready to go again!

Other than that, I launched this website (hooray!) and am looking at expanding my social media, and a few other things. The bottom line is I ended 2025 feeling a little lost. I almost never feel lost. I always have goals and ideas and plans. But by the new year I'd gotten really honest with myself and come up with a list of my values and am working diligently to approach the next chapter with those in mind. I'll keep you posted!

Anne of Green Gables

I recently purchased the original, 1980's Canadian adaptation films on Gazebo TV for the ultimate comfort watch.

Nothing enchants me the way these stories do. Lucy Maud Montgomery paints a picture of Eden with her descriptions of turn of the century P.E.I., trotting through the quaint, safe countryside. I love a story that can transport me to a place and time. When you read a novel written a long time ago, by an author who was living in that time period, it is such an immersive experience. The passing descriptions of how the household was run, how the people filled their days, how neighbors interacted with one another--aren't just historical recreations written about a hundred years later, but are primary source point of view from the author herself. And it's not all Eden. The characters are real, often tragic or thorny, with the occasional unfortunate turn of events. But I never feel a sense of anxiety when reading them. I've found that these days I don't really have the heart to read stories that involve peril or grief, where you have a sense of doom, and have had to DNF a few wonderful books because of it.

Sixth grade was one of the hardest years of my adolescence. I had no friends and got picked on by a few of the kids in my class. I was 12 and awkward and miserable. I was also a "gifted" kid and one saving grace was that I got to go to the gifted program once a week, where I did have some pals and didn't feel like a total loser. I wished I could go there every day. The other saving grace was my teacher, Mrs. Paschal. She was one of the kindest people I've ever known. She knew that I was bored, lonely, and miserable, and tried to accommodate me a little where she could.

I always had my nose in a book as a kid. My dad still talks about how on a trip to Hawaii I spent the whole time reading instead of taking in the scenery. At the time we all thought it was an adorkable quirk but now I suspect it was ADHD. Oftentimes in class I'd open a book on my lap and discreetly read during lessons if I was caught up beyond everyone else. The teacher would be obligated to tell me to stop; everyone was supposed to be working together through the lesson. But Mrs. Paschal would turn a blind eye sometimes, and tried to nurture my reading when she could. She brought me books from her own personal collection that she thought I should read, including Anne of Green Gables. I read each one, returning them to her when I was done in exchange for the next.

One day the AV cart was wheeled in for a movie. We were all excited, everyone loves movie day. Sometimes it would be educational, Bill Nye or some such, sometimes it would just be for fun. Do they still watch movies in school? Our teacher lifted up the VHS--Anne of Green Gables, and looked right at me, with a wide beaming smile and a twinkle in her eye. She knew and I knew that it was just for me. I'll never forget it.

I re-read the whole series around the time we were getting ready to move back from Tennessee. That period of time was one of much angst and stress, but an equal part of melancholy love for the place I was in--literally and figuratively. High highs and low lows I guess you could say. Anne brought me a lot of joy and comfort during that time. Back in sixth grade Mrs. Paschal told me that she read the series while her parents were ill, perhaps end of life, I can't remember if she told me explicitly, but that it had brought her some peace to escape into the books during that time, and told me she hoped they would help me too. I felt so humbled that she would draw that parallel and grateful to be seen by her.

It's funny to think that now, I barely read anymore. We can try to deny it, but I see it even in folks you'd never expect to succumb to it, it's all streaming and scrolling and social media. I know people still read books, but it just isn't the ubiquitous pass-time it once was. Screen addiction is such a complicated beast especially with how the internet has become the main way we stay up to date and in touch. There has been a fundamental shift in how we engage with the world around us as a whole. People used to watch the latest episode of network sitcoms, read the paper, read the latest best-seller, and talk about it at the water cooler. Now all of that is happening on your phone.

Anyway, it's a crazy time we live in, unprecedented if you will. But I'm glad I can keep contributing to the arts and to history and stories in my own small way. And I know many others are as well. So don't stop now!

Perfume? In this economy?

I recently went to the mall all by myself. My husband and daughter and I are very bonded and do practically everything together. When I was growing up I wanted to be Cher Horowitz from Clueless (I even read the books, or course). Mall-rat valley girl is a huge part of my personality, even though I might look more like Daria. So I appreciate that the two of them match my mall-rat energy. We live on an island so it's always an adventure to take the ferry, get chain food or sushi, and walk around in the real world.

But Friday I took off by myself in search of a bra which I knew could be a long and tedious pursuit, and wanted to take my time. I was successful (did you know the department stores carry G, H, and I cups now?), and headed over to Sephora to replace my foundation (that's makeup for any men who kept reading after I said bra). I'm a Revlon girl through and through, but a good foundation is one thing I splurge on. Until now? The stand-alone Sephora location in the mall was a madhouse so I tried the Sephora inside of Kohls. I was one of three shoppers, including a man who I assume was picking out a Valentines gift and looked eager to leave.

Since I was taking my leisurely time I took several laps around the store, swatching things and seeing what caught my eye. As an allergy sufferer I can't really do perfume. I love it but it always makes me feel like I can't breathe. However, I spotted the most lovely bottle and decided to try it out. You know how you have certain colors or motifs that are your pet favorite and draw you in every time like a moth to a flame? This bottle was exactly that. I sprayed a little on myself and on a sample card to take home. For the rest of the day I breathed in deep, the scent was floral and fresh and didn't make me sneeze. The bottle is over $100, but maybe spending a little extra is the key to not sneezing.

I felt so pleased with my shopping trip, and with myself for coming so far on my journey with agoraphobia. A year ago I would have been a basket case going to the city and a crowded mall all alone. I breathed in that $100 perfume and felt rich. It seems ridiculous but maybe I'll buy it next time I have the chance. It's all a part of the "your rich life" philosophy, right? The price we pay for things is directly proportional to the intrinsic value it adds to your life, and joy is in figuring out what those things are.

I thought about my grandma. She loved perfume. Not in that funky old-lady toilet water type of way. Her home smelled indescribably wonderful and her tastes were both bohemian and impeccable. I remember one time her friends gifted her a bottle of nice perfume for her birthday. She told me she sprayed it all over her pillows and sunk into bed, closing her eyes and imagining she was a movie star. She really was the icon of all of our lives, our own dramatic and fabulous Liza or Liz. But I thought about how she always lamented the things she hadn't done or couldn't do. She wanted to see a Broadway show and have a swimming pool, for two. Or be a renowned artist. But she was comfortably middle class, talented, smart, and physically spry. She could have made any of those things happen if she really wanted to. But as a kid I felt so sad for her that her dreams were impossible. Anyway, I guess that even though I'm close to middle age now, and a mom, and struggling in this economy, I'm also so incredibly determined to not just let my dreams be dreams. And I find little reminders everywhere I look. I'm not stopping or slowing down, I'm just getting started!

Shots? Pulled. Cream? Heavy.

Can we talk about since when did everyone start putting heavy cream in an Americano? My God, it's so decadent. For most of my life I was an almond milk girlie. But in the past few years I've gotten where I can't stand the "barista series" alternative milks. If you don't know what I'm talking about, in the wake of alternative milks surging in popularity, someone got the bright idea to add emulsifiers to the milks to make them creamier and better for steaming. Personally I hate it. It makes the milk taste like plastic. I want my almond milk to have two ingredients-- water and almonds. It's especially egregious if you like an iced latte. In that case there is no purpose for the lecithins and gums and it sorely spoils the taste.

Dairy and I have a tenuous relationship. I can handle a splash of cream, and as a lacto-ovo veggie, cheese and I are longtime bffs, but ice cream is evil on my insides. It all just kind of depends. So I started easing back into dairy in my coffee. I spent a summer ordering cold brew with room, then realized an Americano was half the price and actually tasted better. I also figured this was probably a healthy choice, it's basically just black coffee with a splash of milk, which is a whole food, so that's great. But I also realized that at my coffee shop at least, and according to some research this is "a thing," if you ask for an iced Americano with cream you're getting HEAVY. And it's so good! And they put in a lot! I spent like a month drinking them and wondering why they taste like dessert before I watched a little closer one day and figured it out.

So I don't know where to go from here. I did buy myself an at-home espresso maker for Christmas. It's ok. It's the best coffee I've made at home, but it isn't the best espresso, if that makes sense. And I still enjoy the ritual of going out and buying a coffee when I go to town. But I'm spoiled on this rich drink of the gods and can't go back to half and half! And I can't go back to barista almond milk and its icky sticky texture. I guess I'm going to keep consuming 200 calories of heavy cream with my coffee. Unless we can stop this madness with the barista milk no one asked for? Does anyone ACTUALLY like it?

Weaving the story of our lives

Last week I was fortunate to spend every day volunteering in my daughter's classroom. The district sponsors artists who can pitch an idea and come to the school and teach a unit on some type of art, often with a cultural history lesson as part of it. One of the artists teaches weaving, and I volunteered to assist. Last year we did baskets, and this year it was making little tapestries on frame looms.

I went to a liberal arts college here in the PNW, which was one of the most memorable and transformative periods of my life. There is of course the strange disparaging joke people make about how all you'll learn there is underwater basket weaving. One day my professor, a Native elder, heard a student make a comment about that. We were learning a bit of weaving and other plant fiber work as part of our cultural studies program, and the student was lamenting the offensiveness of the stereotype. Our professor overheard and quipped, "what's wrong with weaving?" To her it was no joke.

While my time in college was extremely fulfilling and taught me so much about my life's work, passions, the world, and myself, it is true that I haven't "used" my degree in the traditional sense. I didn't learn a skill and then get a 40 hour a week job doing that skill, like a lawyer or a doctor or a finance guy. But I did learn an abundance of information about the things that are important to me.

So last week I got to help little hands weave fabric. I got to watch a spark light in each of them as they experienced making something from nothing with their hands and a few simple tools. I got to help pass down timeless essential knowledge, and no one scoffed at how we spent our time that week, and I guess you could say I got to put my degree to use. The invisible strings of what I have learned are woven through everything I do, as is true for everyone. Learning, growing, remembering, are how we honor the past and protect the future, even when it's not something that can be measured.

I hope you all have a good week full of love and creativity! xoxo