The Number Five

I suck at blogging. I used to be good at it. Then life came at my full force, so I stopped writing. (Because maybe if I didn’t write about it, it wouldn’t be really happening?) Either way here’s a list of topics that could each be a post, but instead will only be points. Good luck.

1. Twizzler’s made a brilliant move with the Super Long Nibs. Ok, maybe not in the naming department, but the candy is genius. I love them. They were the candy of my dreams for a long, long time. And now that dream is a reality, and I dig it.

2. I’ve started juicing. Not steroids juicing, but fruit/vegetable juicing. It’s kind of awesome. And I am consuming more fruits and veggies than I ever have in my life.

3. I need to wear sunscreen.

4. I say awesome, dude, & yo way too much to be a respectful adult. I’m ok with it, yo.

5. Sunshine is better than therapy. And cheaper. (But painful without the sunscreen).

6. I High-5′d somewhere around 65 people on National High-5 day. (I still think it should be May 5th, and not April 19th).

7. I have been awoken by flashing police lights swirling through my bedroom window twice in the last two weeks. Scares the crap out of me when it happens. Mostly due the craziness of the lights in my room when I don’t have my glasses on (I’m legally blind).

8. This is the 8th point. But really, there is not point 8.

My father was a dentist (my only dentist) until I was 29 years old. When I tell that to most people they say something about “I bet you were never able to eat candy,” or, ” I bet you’re awesome at flossing.” Neither are even remotely close to the truth. In fact, we never made appointments. We never had teeth cleaning. The only time I got work done was the middle of the night when I had a tooth ache. Well, maybe that’s not the only time…. but it was close. And I remember more than once my Dad “numbing” up a tooth between early morning seminary and school (in the car). But, I digress.

When I joined the ranks of real adulthood a few years back, I got giddy with excitement about the chance to get my teeth cleaned regularly, and have insurance pay for it. I’m almost a nerd about it. Ok, I am a nerd about it. I refuse to miss the appointment. I brag that I went, and like to act like people should even care. But for me, I really do care. Cause, I’m a real grown-up that gets me teeth cleaned. Twice a year. Take that, yo.

So today was my bi-annual cleaning and it went splendidly… until the end. The hygienist (we will call her Shirley) asked me if I would “like a fluoride treatment.” I said, “yes,” because duh…I’m a grown-up. Responsible grown-ups get fluoride treatments. It’s in the handbook. Then Shirley told me that their office was now using the “paint-on” fluoride, and that I was “going to love it.”

Guys. Shirley lied. hardcore. I didn’t’ love it. Not at all even. In fact, it was kind of like hell. For the next six hours my teeth felt like they were wearing sweaters. Individually knit wool sweaters. For my teeth. All of them. And they were mint-esque flavored sweaters that made my Diet Coke taste weird (and french fries, if you must know). That fluoride tried to kill my teeth cleaning buzz….and I’m not going to let it. Ever. And definitely not next time.

And hey, Shirley? Your paint-on fluoride can suck an egg.

Every now and again, something happens in your life that makes you sit still & reflect. This past week has been one of those times for me. On Monday, one of my dearest friends said goodbye to her sweet Momma. This weekend I spent time with her family in saying their goodbyes.

The experience has been so unique, because of how unique their Mom was. Sadly, I did not have the chance to know here in this life, but, as so many of us have, I feel I have gotten to know her through her beautiful daughters. You see, their Mom raised them to know what love is. She raised them to share that love in all the best ways they can. She made them know, from the youngest age, that they were wanted, and that her love was unconditional. She loved everyone, even the “difficult” ones, and people were drawn to her because of it. She was light personified, and a wonderful example of womanhood.

I am grateful for her, and for the family she has raised so beautifully. I will take up with her challenge to release judgment, and give forgiveness. I will try harder to let people know that I love them. I will be grateful for the clear love of my own dear Mom, and all the other moms in my life. Because, as my dear friend reminded me, we are all in this together… and let’s face it, none of use should forge this world alone.

Happy 5-5 day y’all.

Today would have been my Grandma Larsen’s 100 birthday, and though she passed away six years ago, I thought today was a big enough milestone to note. She was the best kind of Grandma. The kind with glass bottled Cokes, and chocolate cake. She was a food pusher, and the best talker I’ve ever met. She was everyones friend. And her home, though small, was one of my favorites places to be.

I miss her.

Chatting with one of my best friends on the g-chat last night:

Me: i love music.
Her: why?

In all my years of telling people I love music, I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone turn it back on me and ask why. I sat paralyzed for a few minutes and tried to put some thoughts together. I’ve been thinking about it ever since. The simple answer? I just do.

I love beats, breaks, lyrics, tone. I love instrumentation. I love the tempo, voices, and harmonies. But all that is not why I love music. It’s all the stuff that I have never thought about, that makes my love so intense. It’s the emotion I feel during a great song. Its the way a song says what I can’t, or am struggling to. It’s the memory of hearing it with a good friend, or on a long drive. It’s the moment, before a big note where everything makes sense. The moments I want to pause and stay in forever. It’s the clarity I didn’t know I was missing. It’s the safety net of emotions I can actually let myself use. I love music because it helps me know that I’m not alone. And that it’s ok to feel, and that others do too. It’s because it helps me breathe, and know that I’m ok.

So, there you go…I think that’s my answer. Seems simple, right?

“…it will steal your innocence, it will not steal your substance.”

We made it to the future, y’all.  High-fives all around.

…and it’s not because I don’t care about your feelings.  Sometimes life comes at you at mach speed, and sometimes you’re not ready for it.  And other times, you realize that you can keep going, even when you didn’t know you could.

I’m learning to breathe in, breathe out, blink. I’m learning to stay present and feel.  (The feeling part is the hardest.)

And as Mr. Churchill has said,