It’s quite possible I’ve had so much to write that I haven’t written a thing. Okay, true story: I (almost) don’t know where the month of March went. I almost feel like the Beatles’ Here, There, and Everywhere. Oh, don’t get me singing. Just give me some sweet tea or coffee and I’ll calm down.
There was a chaotic beginning in March. Projects up in the air, should I do this or quit that? Bless her glorious heart, after a morning out as we’re sometimes prone to do, Mum asks, “Would you like me to come over and help you clean your house?” Now, Bedford Manor isn’t a messy place. Not usually. But let me throw a few words out for ya: Flu. Cats. Media. Work. Any of these pieces fitting together? So when Mum asks, I do the only thing a responsible, caring, independent, adult child could do. I cried and said, “Thank you!”
The next thing you know, the house is clean, the body is healthy, and I’m on my way to Seattle. Seattle, people! The Emerald City! The land of . . . Well, the land of my children. And coffee. And probably the sixth location mystery in the City Series. Yes, that’s already in the brain. Suffice to say, I picked a good locale for the story I need to tell there. But that’s a separate post and about three years away. [You can wait, can’t ya?]
I spent three and half days visiting Dot and her husband, as well as enjoying some of the town. I flew up on a Thursday, took the tram directly into downtown and walked myself up Capitol Hill and into my son in law’s work. Dot joined us shortly after and from then on it was go, go, go. Here’s the part where I profusely thank my daughter for telling me in no uncertain terms, “Get over your love of heels. Don’t wear them here. You won’t survive.” She was right. My Keds barely kept the kicks alive. And I’m pretty sure I burned calories from alien beings, that’s how funky the legs didn’t work after ten hours of this thing called walking.
Anyway, I digress . . .
From different Starbucks (I mean, that’s not a surprise, right? That’s as obvious as eating beignets when I visit New Orleans next year.) to unique cuisine to family time around the TV watching, you guessed it, Frasier on Netflix . . . It was the best non-working vacation I’ve had in years. [Okay, so the Frasier thing didn’t happen until after we visited the Space Needle gift shop and a saw a mug that said “Good morning, Seattle!” at which point we looked at each other and said “Ohhhhh, yeahhhh” then went home and watched it over popcorn.] [NOTE TO SELF: Get. That. Mug.]
It’s been difficult to narrow down my favorite moments to just five. Actually, I can’t even say these are my top picks. They just happen to be some of my favorite photos. The moments . . . Well, there’s far too many of them for a Five Things Friday post.
In any event, these are my five favorite Instagrammable moments:
Nippers and I frequented the Willy Wonka of coffee places, the Starbucks Roastery. Here we are enjoying a hot chocolate made with real melted chips, not syrup, and a tiramisu topped with chocolate shavings. I might have been a little Type-A for a few hours after indulging . . .
Nippers at the Roastery
This amazing view of Mt. Rainier from the rooftop. This photo doesn’t do it justice. The beauty of the snow above the green above the city . . . And let’s be real: It’s name is Rainier. For my NOLA Swarm, you’ll know exactly why that excites me. Am I right?
Mt. Rainier from the Rooftop
Honey! Dot and I bought a handful of honey sticks from the Farmers market. These naturally sweet treats are good on their own, but we also love adding them to our hot teas. I bought the variety pack – like This Social Media Ninja Bee could pass up that opportunity.
Honey! This Social Bee’s favorite tea sweetener.
Seriously, potato pizza. Serious Pie, from renowned Seattle chef Tom Douglas, is a pizzeria with three locations including one in the Roastery. Dot and Her Man treated me to this amazing, I-didn’t-think-I’d-like-it-but-I-LOVED-it potato pizza the first night. The food and service were so good, when they asked where I wanted dinner the second night, I opted for different pizza, same pizzeria. That was not a mistake. And I’d do it again.
Potato Pizza, seriously? Yes. At Serious Pie.
My goodie bag is full of souvenirs from both the Roastery and corporate Starbucks where they work, the honey sticks, and, no shocker here, how could I pass up a book from the huge two-story Barnes & Noble? I couldn’t afford to buy the purse pen from Tiffany & Co. just yet, so I got myself the next best thing. Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote.
Seattle Souvenirs: Coffee, honey, and books.
And since I always love to add a bonus photo or video, here it is. I can’t take credit for this. Ten minutes after arriving at the Roastery I met Cyrus who was kind enough to share his Seattle insights, and noted I came on a good weather day. He then showed me this time-lapse video he took a few days earlier of a storm. I loved the video so much I asked if I could share it and he said yes. He also gave us suggestions of places to visit. I later discovered he’s a real estate agent in Seattle, so of course he has become my Go-To Guy for any touristy ideas I might have. I’m trying to convince him he should start a YouTube channel and share his Seattle. If you agree, drop him a line on his real estate Facebook page. Tell him I sent you. And tell him he needs a YouTube channel.
Well, there you have it. My not-only-top-five for Seattle. What are your favorite travel moments? Share them in the comments.
As always, with some love and a big gulp of sweet tea,
Happy reading.
~Molly Jo
A few posts ago, I wrote about watching Under the Tuscan Sun and how I desperately want the white dress.
Well. I bought myself a dress. It’s not white. There’s no black belt. Am I’m a few sizes bigger than Diane Lane. But I bought a dress.
I Wore a Dress. And I Wore a Hat.
And I love it.
I wore it for the first time today.
I’ve struggled with my hair since getting it cut last week. Melanie always does such an amazing job. But I couldn’t duplicate the salon style in my own home. Then we caught The Great Gatsby at the theater this weekend, and I became enamored with the abundance of short hair styles.
Today I love my hair. Even wispy after a long day and getting windswept just before this photo, I love my hair.
It’s not always magazine-beautiful. But I like my short hair. Today, I love it. Tucked under a matching blue headband, I felt the part. I felt coordinated. I felt…
Confident.
I’m not a Size 0 or even a Size 6. I have an eczema flare up on my face that rivals any teenaged pizza delivery kid in town.
And today I wore a dress.
Dreaming.
I felt strange. As though I’d been waiting for this moment. It was so much more than a dress. It was, as I thought it would be, an embracing of who I already am and letting what’s inside shine out.
A few months ago I wouldn’t have shared these photos. I wouldn’t have been confident enough. But today I am.
Today, I’m okay with being bigger than a Size 6. I’m okay with a less than perfect complexion. And I’m even okay with showing a yard that still needs some clean-up.
Because this is Who I Am.
And let’s face it: nobody’s perfect. Nobody’s even what you see. So much of us is hidden or ignored. That’s not to say I’m not going to strive for something better. But I’m not upset with the way things are.
How can I tell my daughter, “You’re Worth It!” if I example to her a lack of confidence or self-control? How I be a good role model for Dot if I’m constantly struggling with how I present myself or have a lack of willingness to participate in life?
Granted, you’ll (hopefully) never see a photo of me crawling out of bed in the morning… there are just some things y’all don’t need. Like a spider in the shoe or fingers on the chalkboard. I don’t want to leave you with that kind of experience. And me before coffee is exactly that. You’re just gonna hafta trust me on this.
There’s Nothing in My Cup!
Today was also about having fun and letting Dot take the lead. I simply handed her my iPhone and said, “Do your thing.” Inherently amazing behind any camera, she allowed me to be goofy and dramatic. I made a few suggestions of what types of photos I was hoping for, and she did the rest. Have I told you how amazing she is?
We had a time of fresh air, laughter, togetherness. And it was all free. And in my own backyard.
The legacies I leave my family are more than just my duties and responsibilities. As I’m putting energy into action to accomplish goals and dreams, I don’t want to lose sight of the “little” things. I don’t want to be so focused on writing that I forget to look. I mustn’t be so burdened with a drive to get to Italy that I neglect my own town. I can’t concentrate so hard on working that I forget how to play.
Going Places
Maybe someday I’ll have a slimmer body, whiter teeth, and a stamp or two in my Passport [Note to Self: get a passport]. Until then, I’m more than comfortable with who I am.
I’m confident enough to wear a dress. And a hat.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
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I’m always surprised (although it’s obvious that I shouldn’t be) that the storylines I’m most attracted to are those with writers as the protagonist. Whether it’s a book, television show or movie… if there’s a writer involved, it holds a certain magic that I can’t find anywhere else.
John-Boy Walton was my first love. The episode “The Achievement” is still an all-time favorite. Richard Thomas, the actor, later portrayed another writer in one of my guilty pleasure films, Stephen King’s IT.
Jo March of Little Women lives my life. An awkward tomboy, dreaming of something beyond her home, she left… only to return to the family she loves and write about them.
Julie Powell wrote about Julia Child who wrote a cookbook. And not just any cookbook. Mastering the Art of French Cooking is still on my Wishlist. For those of you new to Frankly, My Dear… the movie Julie & Julia inspired me to start blogging.
Eat, Pray, Love is another wonderful story about a writer trying to find herself.
But it’s Under the Tuscan Sun that grabbed my attention this weekend.
Although I’ve had the DVD for several years, it’s been quite a while since I last watched it. For Mother’s Day, I did just that. Dot treated me to a Starbuck’s Apple Pie Frappuccino [Note to Self: Get more of this. Often. It’s the coffee-law!] and I settled into my Writer’s Corner (chair. It’s a chair.) and was instantly romanticized by the story of Katherine. Oh, you thought the movie was about Frances, the writer? It is. But my story is about Frances and Katherine, her new Italian friend.
During her season of finding herself, Frances confides in Katherine. Katherine takes her under her wing and encourages Frances to lose her fear of, well, everything. Katherine enthralled me, and the characters around her, with her zest for life. She drew Frances out of her shell. She commanded attention wherever she went. And she almost always wore hats. The big brimmed, feminine kind of hats that Audrey Hepburn would have adorned. If Katherine were real and you were lost in a crowd, you’d need only to look above the heads for her hat, and you’d be lost no more.
I don’t want to ruin the movie for you if you’ve not yet seen it. So I’ll skip any spoilers. But I must mention the dress. The white dress. It’s not a wedding dress. It’s simple yet elegant. Cinched with a simple yet elegant black belt. And Frances, after consulting with Katherine, wears it confidently.
I saw that dress. I saw a writer, who on a whim moved to Italy, and bought a white dress. I saw confidence and adventure and romance and life and courage…
I want that dress!
Not because I want the characteristics it portrays. But because I am finding myself already full of those characteristics and I can think of no better way to show it than to wear such a dress.
A year ago I wouldn’t have thought to wear a dress. Unemployed and feeling less than accomplished, a leg riddled with eczema patches… a dress most certainly wasn’t in the cards.
Oh, but it’s so much more than just about wearing a dress. It’s about grasping life with both hands and yet letting go. It’s eating the ice cream cones in the hot sun. Drinking wine in the backyard. It’s celebrating the failures and acknowledging the successes that come with every day of just waking up and being alive.
That dress is about being alive.
I. Want. That. Dress.
It is definitely worth saving my pennies for. If I have any extras, I’ll just toss them into the Fountain when I finally get to Italy.
Lately, I’ve been rediscovering lost memories. I’ve been chatting with old friends on Facebook. Looking through old photo albums. Reading old journal entries and blog posts.
I’m not one to reminisce. I’m either in the moment or living for the future. The past is the past. It can’t be changed. And while I have solid childhood memories, I don’t often allow myself the luxury of recalling those favored moments more than once in a great while. This is also because I have a tendency to relive emotions that come with certain memories.
Because of this, I can write amazing character profiles. I associate more than just memories. I associate music and ambiance and flavor and fragrance and sound and texture and feelings. I incorporate entire experiences.
But sometimes, triggers can bring me back to more than I bargained for.
Over ten years ago I was engaged. I shouldn’t have been. But I was a single mom with a young girl. I was lonely, and felt alone. I met a man who showered me with affections. He was not cruel. He was not mean. We just were not a good match. People told us so. We didn’t listen, and after months of dating he proposed. I eventually broke up with him when it was clear we weren’t going to be able to work out some of our more important conflicts. It was the smart thing: to let go. But it was painful. And once again, I felt alone. But more than that: I felt like I deserved to be alone. I’d ignored those who loved me enough to tell me why this wasn’t good. I’d turned my back on the advice of family and friends. I’d asked them to embrace my choice, proclaiming that I knew best.
But I didn’t.
So I deserved to be alone. And hurt.
Or so I thought.
He’d taken me to see the movie “Autumn in New York”. I can’t begin to list the reasons why I love this movie. It’s by no means a classic. It didn’t win any awards. But it had me from the moment the first leaf fell in Central Park to Diana Krall’s “Let’s Fall in Love”. I had the CD soundtrack that I annoyed people with day after day after day. It was, for me, the perfect experience.
And then we broke up. And because I had not just memories but experiences associated with Autumn in New York, I could no longer listen to the music. I never wanted to see the movie. I could never think about someday going to New York.
I just couldn’t.
It pulled at me like sticky spaghetti strings. With any real force, the draw would be broken. I was thankful to live here in the desolate desert where I didn’t have to smell crisp autumn winds or see colored leaves. I could pretend the movie never existed. Because to admit that not only did it exist, but that I liked it, was to admit that I wasn’t perfect. That I longed for something I couldn’t, and shouldn’t, have. It was to admit that I’d failed with my family and friends. And that was the most painful loss of all.
This is the thinking pattern I held to for most major disappointments. I could no longer watch this, hear that, go here, eat there. All because it brought back bad memories. And pain. And shame.
Until eight years later. I just made a decision to change my way of thinking. This part puzzles me, because for all my experience-association, the only thing I remember about this moment is feeling empowered. I’d decided several things in that moment.
I’d decided I wasn’t going to hold on to bad memories. I would recognize them, but no longer let them hold me hostage.
I’d decided I was going to allow myself to remember without experiencing every moment.
I’d decided I wasn’t going to let the memory of a long-ago man dictate how I continued my life without him.
I’d decided it was time to stop avoiding old memories, and instead replace them with new ones.
I’d decided to order the DVD from Amazon.
The next four days were filled with a new excitement for me. It was almost a combination of meeting an old friend and going on a first date. I was finally allowing myself to be me. And to be happy about it.
When the DVD arrived, I wasn’t disappointed. I worried that I’d built it up in my head to be a wonderful theatrical production. It wasn’t. But I already knew that. It was just what I remembered it to be. And it felt good to remember.
Since that moment, I no longer run from my memories. I change them. I don’t let them haunt me and keep me subdued. I make new memories. This is still my town. This is where I live. Work. Love. And have family and the same friends.
I refuse to let an old memory take that from me.
The movie is no longer associated with that man. It’s associated with my love for New York. The restaurant we used to frequent is no longer associated with him. It’s associated with friends and great conversations and possibilities.
Life isn’t something to keep running away from or locked in a closet. It’s something to be treasured, exhibited, and put on display.
Life is something to be proud of. The weaknesses that let others be strong for us. Even the parts that make us stronger for ourselves.
1. It’s okay if the Yankees don’t win now and then.
2. The Yankees are, by far, the greatest team in Baseball.
3. Breakfast at Tiffany’s is still a great movie.
4. There are “friends” who use you and manipulate you, friends who need you more than you need them, friends who know what you need, and Friends who take care of you.
5. I try to be a Friend to my friends; but I know I sometimes fail.
6. Income is not the same as a job; and work is not the same as a career.
7. God is bigger than the Boogie Man (Veggie Tales!), and He’s bigger than anything I can think of.
8. The world is incredibly old; there is no original idea left. What was once science fiction is history. What is the future was once someone’s dream. What is now is now. All I have that’s unique is perspective.
9. God will give me the desires of my heart… as long as I delight in Him (Psalm 37:4).
10. I like double-speak for creative writing. I hate it in politicians.
11. Life is not hopeless.
12. Everything is temporary.
13. The colder the weather, the snugglier the cat.
14. October changes people.
15. It’s easier to heal with good foods than bad medicine.
16. Dental work doesn’t always hurt.
17. Complacency is brain-atrophy ~ never a good thing.
18. Biographies can be fun.
19. Forgiveness is important. Guidance is important. Understanding and compassion are important. Love is most important.
20. Flashpoint is still the best show on TV, no matter what network it’s on.
21. Flashpoint peeps are still the best no matter how we connect.
22. Facebook and twitter secretly hate each other.
23. Hockey is not boring, but is sure is hard to follow!
24. Bunco is worth it. No matter what.
25. Christmas is one day. The Christmas spirit should be eternal. Commercialism should be killed.
26. My mom and dad did know more than me when I was a teen. I should have listened more.
27. Someday I’m going to be a famous writer… preferably while I’m young enough to enjoy spoiling my family and securing their futures.
28. God loves me. No matter what. No. Matter. What.
