Meeting my Monkee Mama :-)

I met my Monkee Mama, Glennon Melton

I met my Monkee Mama, Glennon Melton

Friday, April 12, 2013. The Book Passage; Corte Madera, California.

A day I will never forget, and the journey  to get there all started over a year ago when I stumbled upon… a blog.  And not just ANY BLOG….THE blog.

Momastery.com  

Several new friendships have sprung out of this blog as well. One in particular, which likely should have happened long ago, considering our children were in school together for several years, and still remain good friends. Nonetheless, it took me moving across the city, and sharing this blog with Stacey via Facebook, a year later, which ignited a friendship I have a feeling is part of a much larger picture being revealed to us bit by bit.  As the saying goes, “everything happens for a reason” –when it happens. Or something like that, right? Anyway, it was Stacey who was my partner in crime on the pilgrimage to meet the Divine Monkee Mama, Glennon.

Thanks to Stacey’s sweet hubby, who let us pilfer points from his Southwest Rapid Rewards account, we were able to fly up there for the super special book signing, thus saving us hours in the car and insuring that we arrived 7 hours early...lol.  By now, I’m sure most of you are aware, I had already received a copy of the book, read it twice, let Spongebob throw up on it, and posted a review here.  So the anticipation-anxiety-excitement of this meet n’ greet   Monkee Love Fest, for me, may have been equal to that a devout Catholic would feel going to meet The Pope. Or perhaps like Julia Roberts felt while waiting in the hotel bar, all dressed up in that gorgeous red dress, anticipating the arrival of Richard Gere in Pretty Woman. Probably more like the Pope thing though, to be honest.

As I said, we arrived a teensy bit early, so there was plenty of time for a bit of fumbling and bumbling to ensue. First of all, we rented a Prius to make the trek from Oakland to Corte Madera. I drive one on a daily basis, so naturally, I opted to let Stacey take the wheel and enjoy the thrill while I navigated. After I showed her how to turn it on, and assured her the engine was…in fact…running, since the dang things are so quiet, off we drove…into the sunshine…following the prompts provided via iMaps, compliments of Apple. The first glitch came as we were leaving the airport in search of Hegenberger Road, which was supposed to lead us to the actual road we needed to take in order to get onto the freeway. We eventually stumbled upon it, but not because of the great directions coming from my iPhone, or the signs at the airport, which pointed in the direction of a dirt lot that appeared to be under construction. Suffice to say….We. Just. Found. It.

Off, off, and away we drove….chattering all the way! Across a bridge….

not the Golden Gate

not the Golden Gate

Yeah…this is the only photo I managed to snap from the car, because it was hard to follow directions on my phone AND take pictures at the same time. Or I may have been talking too much. It happens. Admittedly though, I mostly suck at photo documentation of things because I’m just too busy living in the moment to actually worry about capturing it on film. Unless prompted. Therefore, you can thank Stacey for this photo.

After about 40 minutes, we pulled up to the most inviting, pleasant looking shopping enclave I’ve ever seen. And lo and behold….The Book Passage was the hub of it! There was also a yoga studio, a frame shop, a quaint little restaurant, a bakery, a nail salon, and a bunch of other small stores sprinkled about. Of course, we made a beeline for the mecca of our pilgrimage, and as soon as we walked in, were greeted with this:

We.Made.It.

We.Made.It.

I may or may not have shouted ‘Hallelujah’ upon walking in and seeing this 🙂

After milling around in a bit of a trance, perhaps caused by hunger, but more likely from the sheer anticipation of what would happen in a few hours…we sat down and had some lunch. At the cafe….in the bookstore. Then, upon further examination, we figured out that our hotel was within walking distance. Unbeknownst to me…I’d booked our accommodations right next door to the very place we would meet our Monkee Mama, Glennon, 5 hours later. Sometimes, I do live a bit of a charmed life….totally by accident though.

As we checked into the hotel, I noticed the front desk attendant’s name was Tom Collins, which took me back to my bartending days, and made me giggle. In case you don’t know your booze…that is the name of a drink. Not a very good one, in my opinion, but still. We were super excited when he offered us an upgraded room at a mere $10 more than the quoted price of the room I booked, and we happily accepted. It would soon become clear WHY….it was only $10 more. While very charming, the hotel is currently undergoing a MAJOR renovation, and the center of their construction universe seemed to be directly above our room. The noise convinced me they must be building a sister hotel in China, and had decided to tunnel from that one to begin the process of connecting the two. All I can say is that Mister-Named-After-A-Sour-Drink, is lucky I had previously made up my mind that nothing was going to tarnish this overnight getaway to meet my blogging/writer/girl-crush idol. Or else my sassy Southern tongue would have pulled him into a come to Jesus meetin’ and that room would have been comped before he knew what hit him!

Now, with a few hours still left to kill, we decided to go check out Mill Valley…an adorable little town about 10 minutes or so away. Stacey was familiar with it, and The Man suggested I visit there while in the area, so it was a done deal. I pulled on some jeans and a tee, shoved my feet into my cowboy boots, topped off the look with a Bama hat and some gypsy jewels, and we set out on the adventure. And holy crap…that place is like my nirvana! Sort of a treehouse kind of community, oozing with culture, smelling like nature and emanating a hippie vibe. We wandered around a bit, and I snapped this photo (my 3rd one of the trip):

flowershopinMV

very unique

I realize it doesn’t look like much, but it’s an outdoor floral shop housed above a running stream. I’ve never seen anywhere else like it, so once I win the lottery and move to Mill Valley, I’m going to buy it. Just wait and see.

Immediately after we left here, we wandered into a wine store and perused the racks for a bottle of pinot noir we decided we would split in celebration, following the signing that evening. As we were chatting, both of us admitted to choosing wine by the aesthetics of the label, since neither has enough knowledge about the stuff to be a wine snob. If the label is pretty, and it’s affordable…that usually works. I also became mesmerized by the positively gorgeous and unique bottles of tequila on display in the store, and it dawned on me I couldn’t buy one to bring home, and the irony was not lost on me. (more on that later) We chose a bottle of pinot from the Mary Elke winery, because it had the word “Barter” on the label, and I personally think the world would be way easier if we ditched currency and returned to the barter system. Too bad the wine shop owner didn’t agree, and made us pay for it. Oh well…a girl can dream, I suppose.

The center of Mill Valley is a coffee shop and bookstore that serves wine (is this becoming a theme?), so we decided to rest our feet, take in the scenery and enjoy a glass of vino while listening to a local musician play a dulcimer in the adjacent courtyard. It turned out to be the only glass either of us had the entire trip. Yes…that’s right, we never opened the bottle we bought. We didn’t need to, as we were buzzed enough from the Monkee energy at the signing. I am happy to say that Mary Elke is waiting patiently at Stacey’s house for another GNO–and hopefully, Audra will join us! But seriously…how appropriately feminine (and Southern) is the name of that vintage? I can’t wait!

Alright, I’m gonna cut right to the chase here….fast forwarding through the threat of traffic getting back to the Monkee Mecca, and just say we made it in time to plant our fannies in a couple of chairs not so close that we could hit Glennon with spitballs, but not so far away as to require binoculars. Perfect placement, in other words 🙂 The energy in the room was infectious. Several mamas came with their precious littles, which made me miss mine. Okay. That’s a lie. They were in capable hands, and I needed a vacay. But I did THINK about them.

Glennon came onto the stage, and I swear she was glowing. It’s possible it could have been the lighting, but I sincerely doubt it. She just radiates positive light. She talked for a bit, then read an essay titled “Officer Superhero” from her book, which of course made everyone roar with laughter and shake their heads with a ‘been there, done that’ nod. Me, times 3, in fact. After that, she took questions, and then it was time to line up for AUTOGRAPHS.

And this, my friends, is where it gets interesting….

 

As I mentioned previously, I was wearing a Bama hat. It’s part of my Warrior armor. As if this surprises any of you? You are also aware that I’m a talker…so my Southern accent was on full display, like a badge of honor, as I happily chatted up the lady in front of us. At some point, and I’m not sure what the prompt was…one of the ladies in line behind us, says to me “Is that an Alabama hat?”, despite the fact that it was Crimson and CLEARLY said Alabama on it. I politely answered, “Yes”, and she asked if I was from there, and had I attended UA. Again, I uttered a pride-filled “Yes.”  Then she said, “I’m from Mobile, and I went to Auburn.”  For a moment, there was a silent exchange of looks-up and down-from both of us to the other, and of course the unspoken thought, no doubt, running through both our minds of “Well, damn. Now I can’t be your friend.” Once that moment passed, and we explained to the women we were there with, Stacey and Kris, respectively, about the bitter rivalry between the two universities, it was clear we would in fact be friends. After all, there we were, standing in line amongst about 100 other women, waiting to meet the author of a blog and book, that claims “LOVE WINS” as it’s primary mantra. A devout Bama fan and a diehard Auburn fan, randomly found each other amongst the Monkees. Again, the irony of this situation was not lost on me. I only wish she’d been wearing some blue and orange AU garb to make the perfect photo! We laughed about how hilarious it is that neither university has a battle cry that even remotely matches their mascot –an elephant named Al who screams “Roll Tide Roll”, and a Tiger named Aubie who cries “War Eagle”WHAT. THE. EFF.?? We swapped some great stories, the time passed quickly, and we of course solidified the encounter by becoming FB friends. Thanks Bre…I look forward to football season this year….lol 🙂

Alright, so we finally made it to the front of the line….hearts racing…and Stacey steps up to the table to greet Glennon. Not sure what the exchange was, but Glennon offered each of us a Twizzler as she came around to hug us, and pose for this photo:

Yes...those are Twizzlers.

Yes…those are Twizzlers.

So then it was my turn, and Glennon sat back down as I stepped up to have my books….yes, I had 2…signed. She immediately commented on the fact that I had ‘an original’ copy, and before I could even explain why (because I’d done the review) she said “NANCY!” and my day year was made. My blogging mentor knew my freaking name! Yep…stick a fork in me people, because I’m done! I could have drawn my last breath right there, and landed on the floor with a thud and a smile on my face. Obviously, that didn’t happen, but it could have. She thanked me for writing such a beautiful review, and continuing to show up for her and the Monkees. Then she came around to hug me, and a very magical thing happened. She whispered in my ear a phrase I will never forget, that let me know, beyond a shadow of doubt that not only did she know my name….she also knew my story. Because listening is one of her gifts and talents. You see, I, just like so many other people, have written emails to her, over the course of the last year….pouring out my thoughts, fears, hopes, dreams, etc….during times of struggle, just to get the heavies off my heart and out there into the universe. Never in a million years did I expect a response. But this is the cherished, whispered answer I got:

Evidence to the contrary…All is well.

 

And with that, I’m going to wrap this up. Because honestly, after that moment, I really just floated on a cloud for the remainder of the evening and the next day. Although, it wasn’t completely uneventful. We visited a restaurant featured on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, I spotted a landmark (The Watermelon Slice?) I was certain had to be a hunger induced mirage while on the shuttle from Prius return to  terminal, where I ran barefoot through the Oakland Airport because, of course….we almost missed our flight. Never a dull moment!

Here’s to the next Monkee pilgrimage!

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10 Reasons I’m a Bad-Ass

well, there's #1

most important reason

(If I knew whom to credit this photo/saying to, I totally would. Unfortunately, Mama Google left me hanging.)

Judging by the fact the last list I posted here sucked 499 people in to read it…in one day...I thought I’d give you some more fat to chew on. You can thank me later. Or never. I’m cool with that.

Let me start by saying that given the festive and colorful life I’ve led, I should be a DEAD ASS. So that, folks, begins the list:

#1…I’m alive.

And have been called a force of nature by at least 2 people, who aren’t related to me and don’t know each other at all.

#2…I can bleed for 7 consecutive days without dying, or showing visible signs of injury.

All bets are off for others showing signs of injury, either physical or emotional, if they happen to be in close proximity during those 7 days. You’ve been warned.

#3…I can pitch a tent, start a fire, rig a pole, bait a hook with a LIVE worm, cast a line, reel in a catch, and then clean, fillet and cook it. Oh, and I can forage greens to sauté as a side dish. In other words: I know how to camp…low-impact style. Don’t mind squatting to pee in the woods either. Yes, I’m a happy camper!

But to be fair, I enjoy 5 star hotels and room service too. I’m flexible like that.

#4…I can say my ABC’s backwards in less than 6 seconds. It’s true, I swear. My daddy taught me how when I was 6 years old, and Sugar Bean timed me about 3 months ago, after I taught her and my other 2 Beans.

Useless, stupid human trick, I know. But try it…it’s fun.

#5…The very first time I ever played Texas Hold ‘Em Poker was with 2 of my older brothers and 3 of my 20-something nephews at our family Fourth of July shindig one year. I took all of their money. One of them even had to write me a check. Could have been beginner’s luck, but was likely because I’m a bad-ass.

FYI–I didn’t cash the check, or keep their money. I’m a bad-ass, not a bitch.

#6…My homemade chili won 3rd place fin the Beverly Hills Chili-Cook Off one year. Didn’t take the top prize, but I cooked 6 gallons and there wasn’t a drop left. So the crowd liked it, which is so much better than winning.

Friends sometimes call and ask me to make it for them, because they crave it. Now THAT’s bad-ass.

#7…I have a Smokey and the Bandit t-shirt, and know the words to the theme song, because my sister let me watch the movie when I was about 8 years old and I’ve never forgotten them. She also taught me the lyrics to a famous Jimmy Buffett song around the same time, so now…

I like mine with lettuce and tomato
Heinz 57 and french fried potatoes
Big kosher pickle and a cold draft beer
Well, good God Almighty which way do I steer for my Cheeseburger in Paradise

#8…My alma-mater holds 15 National Championship Titles. Enough said, except ROLL TIDE ROLL.

#9…I was in the cast of HAIR! at the University of Alabama the year it celebrated its 25th anniversary on Broadway. We sold out every performance….and yes…I participated in the nude scene. BUCK NEKID. Even during tech/dress rehearsal under full-flourescent lighting with about 15 people seated in the audience whom I’m certain had zero interest in seeing me naked.

I assume, once word got out that dancers were taking off clothing on stage, all the campus frat boys voyeurs stormed the box office, & bought a ticket. That would explain 8 sold-out performances, huh?

#10…Without hesitation, I would trade places with the one person in my life whom I know is struggling the most right now if I was sure it would end all the pain, anxiety, stress and hurt.

Why, you ask?

Because God thinks I’m a bad-ass too, and I can handle it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Juggling bubbles

perfectly round and delicate

perfectly round and delicate

Somedays I feel like I live in one of these. A clear, perfectly round sphere….ready to shatter any moment, under the pressure of the slightest brush against another object. Other days, I’m not living in one, but rather juggling a bunch of them, desperately trying to keep them aloft, so they don’t burst if they hit the ground. Why, you ask? Because The Man and The Beans live in them, and…

I AM THE KEEPER OF THE BUBBLES.

That’s a lot of pressure, in case you were wondering. Bubble juggling, that is. And along with the constant fear of spontaneous bubble eruption, comes the quiet panic of wtf am I going to do if they all disintegrate? AGAIN. Oh yes. It’s happened before.

My entire life has been an endless quest to maintain images, trapped inside bubbles ready to burst at any moment. Even in childhood I learned how to compartmentalize my life by carefully encasing each facet in it’s own protective, gossamer layer.

The Image of Reality I allow people to see. 

The Image of Reality as it is–mostly shielded from view. 

The Image I Hope My Reality Becomes. 

The Image of Reality as it should be if not for all the branches, scratches, windstorms, rocks and other disasters that have spun the bubble around and left it broken, lying in a slimy pool of soap….in the dirt. 

I must confess, 2013 started off like a dream….launching me and my bubble juggling self into a very comfortable, seemingly bubble popping proof place with a giant fan underneath, to keep the bubbles up in the air. So if you’ve  seen me lately, I’m sure I looked  fine. Probably even smiling, and genuinely relaxed. Perhaps even today. But it’s all about perception, isn’t it?

I’m here to tell you, an engine in that damn fan has weakened and my bubbles have lost some altitude. They are hovering just above the fan now, and I’m lying on top of it shielding them from the blades which would make them all disintegrate. AGAIN.

God, what should I do now? I don’t hear you laughing.

 

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10 Things I Hate About 41

It’s no secret that I’m over 40. Although since I live in Los Angeles, and I’m married to The Man who’s married to The Industry, maybe I should have stopped aging at 30. Yeah, a nice even number. That’s a believable lie, right?  {crickets chirping} FINE. I can’t lie about it now. But I CAN tell you all the reasons why it sucks giant, hairy and sweaty donkey balls, now can’t I?!

The photo below shows me being a hot mess….literally. Holding a beer, my phone, and my wallet all in one hand, while using the other to shoo a bug out from under my niece’s wedding dress. Yes, that really happened. Anyway, this photo is relevant because it was during this particular plantation wedding weekend that I began to really start hating the downside of 40, and the approach of…FORTY-ONE. The look on my face says it all, doesn’t it?  Not sure if I laughed or cried next. Could have been either. Seriously.

She really had a bug under her dress!

She really had a bug under her dress!

Over the past 6 months, things have begun to CHAAAANGE. Normally  I’m delighted to welcome change with open arms. However, there are a few key players in my physiological make-up that were just fine the way they were….when I was 35, 30, 20 🙂 Which brings me to:  

10 Things I Hate About 41

 

1. I’m not 40 anymore.  Yes, I actually enjoyed being 40. Something about that milestone birthday is attractive. Just like turning 18, then 21, followed by 30, 35 and FORTY. It’s the last best milestone, I think. Now, I’m just 41.

2. Phantom aches & pains—in my back, in my hip, in my big toe or my eyeballs—I could go on forever. Hello? My bones are old. I know. I know. But I really do not enjoy being reminded.

3. My hair is falling out For God’s sake, my hair was my best asset FOR YEARS, and now it’s thinning. I actually broke down and bought some of that ‘AGE DEFY’ shampoo and conditioner that I never even knew existed, until now. wtf…WTF?? I’ve always had great hair, like the Pantene girls. Now I am fully expecting to wake up one morning, rise from my bed, only to discover that all my hair is still lying on the pillow. Or worse, have it slip through my hands and down the drain while I’m washing it. I’m having HORROR HAIR FLASHES to accompany the other flashes (See #4)

4. One minute I’m freezing, the next I am burning up– Hot flashes my ass. These are like nuclear meltdowns, causing a chain reaction of unpleasant shit. Then, in seconds, I’m so cold my teeth are chattering, and I’m walking around wearing my bathrobe on top of my clothes. Even Mother Nature can’t keep up with the internal seasons I’ve got going on. Of course it doesn’t help when The Man says “You’re going through The Change“. Thanks, asshat. I’ll show you change. 

5. I’m thirsty all the time— I’ve never been one to consume a lot of liquids. Not a conscious choice, I just don’t get thirsty. Well shit fire, I am now apparently making up for all the years I forgot to drink. Just great.

6. Incontinence– To be fair, I’ve always had a somewhat weak bladder. I used to pee when I laughed in high school. Of course, childbirth times 3 made it much worse, and now….well…because of #5 above, I HAVE TO PEE CONSTANTLY. Go figure. Perhaps I can be a spokesmodel for Depends, just like Lisa Rinna. Whaddaya think?

7. Young people refer to me as “Mrs” or “ma’am”– Being from the South, I appreciate the reverence. But at the same time, it makes me want to punch the teenaged cashier at Von’s right in the face when she says “Here you go ma’am” as she hands my ID back after she cards me. Brighten my day by asking for my ID, and then burst the balloon by calling me ‘ma’am’. FINE. Be that way. You’ll be old one day.

8. My eyesight is getting worse–as if THAT were possible, right? I mean, I already have something stupid called Adie’s pupil–my right one is permanently blown–so it makes me look like Marilyn Manson, in bright light. Right one blown, left one pinpoint. Most of the time, if people actually look into my eyes and notice, they want to know what kind of cool psychedelic drugs I’ve dropped. It’s very entertaining. That problem aside, I can’t see shit now.

9. What short-term memory?–Sometimes, I feel like Dorie in Finding Nemo. I’ll walk through my house from one room to another, on a mission, and by the time I get there, I stand in the middle of the room wondering what the hell I’m doing there. On occasion, I’ve retraced my steps in an effort to jog my memory. Almost never works. So I guess it’s really true….I gave a 1/4 of my brain cells to each of my children. Thank God we stopped at 3. Otherwise, I’d be a vegetable. Oh, joy!

10. Sahara– This is what I have nicknamed my nether region, because of the dryness. Seriously, I am expecting The Man to saddle up on a camel the next time he wants to take a ride. All the while, I’m thinking “Hey…Eve…I hope that fruit was damn tasty!”

I just have one last thing to say. When I finally kick it, please bury me upside down, so Aunt Flow and her groupies, Bald and Blind, can kiss my tired, old, forgetful ass, will ya?

 

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