Back to the Basics

"What is more basic than the need to be known? It is the entirety of intimacy, the elixir of love, this knowing". In the book Her Fearful Symmetry, a central character gives himself over completely to this basic knowing. I read this passage, this simple sentence, more than a week ago. It resonated with me so much that I earmarked the page and referred back to it often.

Dictionary.com defines "known" as:

1. to perceive or understand as fact or truth; to apprehend clearly and with certainty
2. to have established or fixed in the mind or memory
3. to be cognizant or aware of
4. be acquainted with, as by sight or experience
5. to understand from experience or attainment
6. to be able to distinguish, as one from another
7. Archaic. to have sexual intercourse with.

This is what I am looking for. The knowing. For me at this moment, it doesn't mean commitment, it doesn't require a path, it isn't what I've had and it is what I want. I want to be known. I want someone that is aware, is perceptive, is cognizant of me always. That gets me without any explanation, apology, or justification. Is pleased to be in my presence and looks forward to the next experience.

At 3.38am this morning I received a phone call. Of course I was awake. (Even if I hadn't been at work, the chances are great that I would still have been conscious.) The call was from a dear friend of mine that was celebrating her birthday on the West Coast and had also just got engaged. This girl deserves every bit of happiness that moment provided her and I was so thrilled to spend part of that with her. She had just had her known validated. She is someone that I love unconditionally and the thought of her so happy has brought me to giddy tears several times today.

Oddly enough I had been out earlier last night with good friends and a wonderful man to see Phantom of the Opera. That production is all about the "knowing" of someone, and the deep and sometimes painful understanding that goes with it.

Congratulations Amy. No one deserves to be known more than you.

Ho, ho, ho and a bottle of rum...

I think this holiday season is going to be OK. Maybe more than OK, maybe just fine. Perhaps even freaking awesome. Earlier this year I was seriously apprehensive about the jolly, holly season. I thought I'd be miserable and all Scrooge-like once Thanksgiving came and turned into Christmas and New Years. The concept of parties and social engagements gave me panic attacks (let's not forget Bernie), and the idea of being joyful seemed far, far, away.

Oh thank goodness I was wrong. Thanksgiving week allowed me to regress...I went out, I drank, I laughed, I ate, I spent time with my favorite boys, I ran, I met new people, and I simply lived. I lived A LOT. I don't know that I will ever think of Thanksgiving the same way again. In fact, I know I won't.

Last weekend I attended a holiday party with some delightful friends. Apart from the near fist-fight that darling Brad and I almost got into over the music, the evening was pure fabulousness. Fabulous with a side of glitter. You know I enjoy myself wholly when I end up engaging in frivolous kleptomania. Thank you boys for letting me steal your duckie.

The next morning I felt INCREDIBLE. I think happiness somehow conquered the cheap wine hangover that seemed impossible to avoid the night before. No one else seemed to feel the same, so I tackled the Farmer's Market solo and returned victorious with a little tree and a wreath. A trip to the storage shed to retrieve ornaments meant that Christmas descended upon my house. Happily.


On Friday I am seeing Phantom of the Opera for the first time with wonderful people. I have a date for the holiday party next week. I am going home for Christmas to see my incredible family and friends. God, how I have missed you all. I might even go out, out, out for New Year's. Optimistically, I already have the rocking dress. In a size 6, I might add.This year needs to end, and it is looking to end well. Scrooge has nothing on me.

When Two is Better than One

Last month my doppelganger came to visit. When my sister Elizabeth and I get together...all bets are off, and I wouldn't want it any other way. My ab muscles usually ache for a week after she leaves.

We started off the weekend by stocking up at the ABC and doing a little grocery shopping. Elizabeth was making her world-famous tater tot casserole for my friends that evening and we had some non-healthy ingredients to buy.

As we were standing in the wine aisle trying to determine what vintage goes best with tots, a man walks up to us and says, "You girls should call me if you want to give your husbands some holiday treats". He then handed Elizabeth his card and slowly backed away dumbfounded as we basically collapsed into the aisle laughing hysterically. Turns out he is a chef and does in-home cooking classes. We of course couldn't get over the husbands...and treats part. Perhaps another year...

I don't think I stopped laughing from there on in. The tater tot dinner party was a smashing success and the pot was licked clean by many.


Elizabeth woke up the next morning painfully hungover asking, "Why am I not wearing any pants? WHERE ARE MY PANTS? WHAT HAPPENED TO MY PANTS?" I believe it was the vodka and Glogg that stole her pants....or the wine...or the beer, or the oh...the options...

One of the weird things we share is the swelling of our fingers when we drink. Couple that with a 3-mile walk around Lake Johnson and Elizabeth had the biggest man-hands ever. We completely destroyed the peace and tranquility of the woods by her running towards me with her arms outstretched and screaming, "Would you like me to open your jar of pickles?". Frankenstein stay back, back I say!

As with every trip together, people assume we are twins. Not sure how happy Elizabeth is with being compared to her 37 year-old sister, but I certainly take it as a great compliment.

The twin thing takes on a very different connotation when it is recognized by a funny middle-aged woman who can't stop remarking at how much we look alike, than it does when it comes from a couple leering college students. Both entertaining, but for very different reasons.

We were sitting at a cafe one afternoon trying to clear our heads when a couple boys walked out of the restaurant and straight up to our table. One looked at us, smiled, and simply said, "YUM" and then walked away. We laughed until Elizabeth snorted. Let the day begin again.

There are so many more stories to tell, but some must remain between the doppelganger and I. She says she wants to return in January and this make me oh so happy. I have many jars of pickles that need to be opened, and pants that need to be found.

It's Good to be Loved

Even with this tumultuous 2009, I have so much to be thankful for. I am in the best shape of my life, I have a great job, my dog is cancer-free, my family is fabulous, and my friends love me.

They proved (yet again) just how much they loved me over the Thanksgiving weekend. They came, they cleaned, they fixed, they sawed, they hauled.

Michael started working on the kitchen backsplash Thursday and had all the tile up by the time I returned home. On Saturday he returned for grout and the installation of the new front storm door.

Both turned out beautifully.

That afternoon our amazing friends came over to help remove the waist-deep leaves from my backyard. OK - maybe not waist-deep, but all those oak trees made quite a mess! Todd had the leaf blower on full power, while Rob raked and I hauled. We managed to remove a car-sized pile from the yard...and not such a small car.

On Sunday Michael installed the doggie door so that Miss Iona doesn't hate me on those longer than normal days. The sound of the saw going through the metal frame was actually (painfully) worth it.

Projects complete. Thank you all for giving up part of your weekend. So much to be thankful for, and so good to be loved.

A Runner's Reward

I admit I have a little bit of a problem. Yesterday I went running around Lake Johnson in the morning...only 2.75 miles, but with some killer hills...and then ran another 2.5 miles in the afternoon just because I felt antsy. This is becoming more and more the norm. Run once, run twice. Run more. Wait, run again.

I like the transformation it has made on me. I like running outside, in the cold, the rain, the fresh air. The elements just make it seem more "present". I also like the fact that I now can't seem to gain a pound and I am finding muscles that never existed before. I've dropped about 30 pounds and kept it off, but the dispersion keeps changing. Not that I am complaining...

The hard part? The clothes. Oh my, my beautiful clothes. I went through everything earlier and can probably only wear about 1/3. And of those, it is only because I purchased them in the last month, couldn't fit into them before, or can effectively hide the fact that they truly are too big. Not to be materialistic...but there are some beautiful things that now just sit and scoff at me.

So...I am becoming friends with a local tailor. I spent several hours there today, being groped, and pinned, and stuck and laughed at. In a nice way of course. One of the seamstresses actually asked me if I purposefully bought all my clothes three sizes too big. And a very nice man actually giggled a little as I stood holding handfuls of cloth in my hand in order to keep my favorite pair of Tahari pants from falling to the floor.

It was all worthwhile though, as another woman in a similar predicament started up a conversation with me. Turns out we are both new runners and running is what we credit for our clothing dilemmas. As I stood on the platform holding up my shirt so I could get pinned yet again...she looked at me and said...YOU ARE REALLY SUPER SKINNY.

I thank you oh stranger at the tailor. I have NEVER heard those words before. I have never known that term. I like it. I own it. I am it. Running is more than just sanity.

Let's Begin Again

For a variety of reasons I have been a bit absent this month. I needed to pay attention to what I was doing, and how I was doing it without the unintentional interruptions of others. This path is one hell of a learning experience and one I sometimes need to course out myself. I also needed to keep the misinterpretations at a minimum. Of course, my silence has created its own set of challenges.

With that said...let's begin again.

While this stage of the house is essentially complete, it does still have some finishing touches that we'd been neglecting. Until this week, that is.

Over a few weekends Michael and I hit up the local home improvement stores and found a new front storm door, a doggie door and tile for the kitchen backsplash.

The backsplash was the last thing that needed to be finished in the kitchen. While it looked great, it just felt "unfinished". Unfinished. That one word could sum up my 2009.

The tile was such a tremendous find! I knew I wanted glass and something small. I thought I wanted round, but once we saw the gorgeous sheets of tiny bronze and amber squares, we knew this was it. We also found a few ceramic and glass tiles that had been returned from another store. They only had a few and we grabbed them.

Michael fortunately has retained all his tile talent and created yet another stunning piece. I only had to grout and clean...

This seems like a good way to begin again.

November...Bring it.

Yesterday a coworker looked inquisitively at me and said, "You look like the cat that ate the canary. Someone is making you happy". That woman has some strong and slightly scary powers of insight.

According to the Chinese horoscope, my good fortune should not be upon me until this Saturday. Well, I have been warranted an early release from chaos and have been granted the right of bliss. I am moving from the time entitled "Vulnerable" to that of "Glorious Breakthroughs". It says that this is my month of transformation and all the changes are excellent. Apparently it only takes one look to know that the transformation has already begun!

The cat has found the someones and the somethings, in very unexpected places. Recently I've been at the Lexington BBQ Fest and wine tasting with great friends. I also kicked one of their asses in a rematch of travel Scrabble...that would be twice now. I've also been fortunate to hike up to MacRae Peak on Grandfather Mountain. Cables and ladders and wind, oh my. The views, the company, and the landscape was so well worth the pain in my knees the next day.


And then. And then there was Halloween. As everyone knows, this is the best day of the year for me. I just love everything about it...and it really doesn't matter if it is spent by throwing a huge drunken costume party or just quietly sitting on the porch with friends...drinking wine and passing out candy. I admit that I was unprepared for the awesomeness of this one. Memorable? Just call it infamous. Friends, food, Glogg, debauchery, a legendary gay nightclub, dancing, seeing 4a and thinking that too was awesome. Just awesome.

If that weren't delightful enough, November entered my world with an extra hour of needed sleep and a smile on my face. That smile stayed all the way through to West Virginia and back...car finally came through, and the Iona plate has been reborn.

Yeah, you can call this cat happy...and I have someones to thank for that.