Girlfriends Are the Best!

When I was young, all my friends were girls. We would talk about boys, chase boys, and obsess about boys. But we were not friends with boys. We were 13. 

I lived in the valley, and, yes, I was a "valley girl." I still curse that movie. Gag me! Totally! And I talked like that. I even had a copy of how to be a valley girl! (And apparently, I should have hung onto that book!) 

From valley to full-on 80s. I got a perm and cut the collars out of my sweatshirts so that they hung over my shoulder. I practiced dive rolls across our front lawn until I could do one perfectly at "top" running speed. OK -- if you have no idea what I'm talking about right now, you may have no business reading this post any further! But because I'm practicing tolerance in 2020, forced tolerance due to COVID, I'll give you a hint: Flashdance! Girls remember the dive roll and that she was a kick-ass dancer. Guys remember Jennifer Beals pulling the cord that released a bucket of water over her head! 

But I'm seriously digressing. 

Today I was returning from SUP yoga when it hit me that my friends are all girls again. I never thought I would have girlfriends again. In my 20s I climbed -- A LOT -- and all my friends were guys. I never thought I'd see 30 and I certainly never thought I would live to be old, you know, 31! 

Somewhere between 31 and 49 my entire life shifted. I left the world of traveling the globe to climb mountains for sandy beaches, sunrise runs, and sunset paddles. The people I find interesting have something worth listening to because they've lived a whole life, not just part of an existence. And at the end of the day, I want to chat with one of my girlfriends to hear about their day and share mine. Not because I don't like the company of boys but because my girlfriends are important. They are part of me and I like to think I am part of them. Some of my friends I've known for a lifetime and others are new. But we're all the same. We're girls. And together we can talk about boys. 

Yesterday my childhood bestie sent me this picture. It was taken in a photo booth at the Northridge Mall in the San Fernando Valley. We were 13. A lifetime has passed since this picture was taken and we are not those two little girls anymore. But I can't imagine another person I would rather like to talk to than her. 

I feel so lucky! I live where the sun is out everyday. It's summer year-round. I'm 1.7 miles from the Pacific Ocean (as the crow flies). I'm pretty well assured it will not snow within 100 miles of my house and I can permanently retire my windshield ice scrapper. But more than that, I have an amazing group of girlfriends near me. And even my girlfriends that are far away are somehow so close at the same time. Today when I think about getting older, I imagine wearing red hats with purple feathers, drinking elixirs on the beach, and watching the sunset over the ocean. 

To all my girlfriends -- you are amazing and I love you all! 

Just after 9 pm

Ten years seemed anti-climatic. I scheduled my final oncology visit for 9 am to celebrate 10 years. I can't even remember what I did. I likely walked Theodore. Maybe I had a cider. In the end, it was just another day.

Just after 9 pm today, I realized it was May 18th. May 18th eleven years ago doctors ripped apart my body and tore out what was left of my soul. Today. I'm alone. I finished a few things and I'm just sitting here. Listening to music. Crying. Again. I can't get out of my skin. I can't run. And I gave up hiding a long time ago. Theodore follows me around the house. For now, he's snuggled up next to my left leg. His breath is warm and I can feel him breathe.

In light of the pandemic, we're told we'll find a new normal. There is no new normal. It's not magic where you wake up one day and the past doesn't hurt anymore. It does. It is still part of you -- part of me. My past is the house that built me. It doesn't matter how many rocks I throw in the river or how many times I burn sage I can't escape the ghosts.

But time heals. This year, I didn't even realize it was May 18th until just after nine. Next year, will I even remember on May 18th? Or will it be the 19th? I know that I will never be the same. I will never be that amazing girl so full of life. It was "lifed" out of me. Besides, after all the surgeries, I'm not sure if I'm still a girl? If all your parts have been riddled with disease and removed, are you still a girl? I know I am not whole. But am I still a girl? 

I was told I am like a tree bending in the wind. All of the things I have been through have made my tree strong, deeply rooted. That had I not gone through those things, in the first storm, I would break. But even big tall beautiful trees fall over.

Some days it is just a matter of walking, putting one foot in front of the other. Saying thank you. Thank you for these steps. Thank you for Theodore. Thank you for the sun, the moon. Thank you for the flowers. Thank you to the universe so that the universe will listen, reach out its hand to carry you. Today is one of those days.

Raise a glass to another year. In search of normal only to realize I've never been f-ing
normal! 

Today Begins my 50th Year

Today at 8-ish AM Pacific Standard Time, I turn 49 and enter my 50^th year. I’m certainly far from perfect. I tend to learn the hard way. I often speak then think. I react. I move through life full-on. I take everything in. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I don't look back. And I have no regrets.  

In 49 years of living on the planet, I've learned a few things.

1. Everything that happens in my life and the lives of those around me is not all my fault. Failure to take responsibility stunts growth. Most times circumstance is dual-authored, each contributing equitably. I believe that in order to learn, I must first take ownership of my contributions. I have also learned that that does not mean taking responsibility for the contributions of others – that stunts growth like a record with a scratch.
2. Use the word "I" more than "you" when placing blame or reflecting on an incident. I've received more than one email, text, letter, or phone call filled with "you's." Personally, I've committed the "you" crime on more than one occasion. Just recently, I received an 8-sentence email that contained the word "I" twice and "you" ten times. I chose not to be part of that friendship any longer. I also choose to write my future using "I" more often.
3. The biggest travesty of the 21^st century is the cell phone. It is as if being rude has become part of our culture. When did it become acceptable to take a call while sitting across the table from someone? Or in line at the grocery store? I'm not so nice when someone refuses to acknowledge an employee ringing up their purchases. It often comes out like this, "This beautiful [lady or man] deserves your attention and respect you self-serving prick."
4. It’s not my job to count another person's mistakes (obviously still learning; see #3 with my response to ill-mannered cell phone users).
5. Embrace failure, it's the step right before success.
6. Bucket lists are for wimps. If there is something you want to do, do it. I'm often criticized for my lifestyle, but there is not a damn thing on my bucket list. When I show up at the pearly gates of heaven or the iron fists of hell, I will have no regrets. I once read: I do not want to do the same thing every day for 90 years and call that a life. Amen, sister!
7. Typically, things are more beautiful for what I don't see than what I do see. Take an extra minute to sit quietly. Feel those things you can't see. I recently visited the Gloucester Cathedral in the U.K. In the silence, I could imagine the world created in a Ken Follet book.
8. I've met some of the most interesting people on planes. I was maybe six or seven years old when I remember my first flight. My brother and I visited the pilots in the cockpit and received our "wings," a pin for our lapel. I remember looking at the world through the window of driver's seat thinking it's all right there – the whole world is waiting for me. Since then, I pick the brains of my fellow travelers. I make friends, many of whom are still friends to this day. Don't know what to say? Try, "Where are you going?" You're on a plane for god's sake!
9. Environmentalism is not a fad. I carry my own bamboo fork and spoon (TSA approved) and travel mug capable of eating or drinking from. I use a Final Straw. I respect the ground I walk on and the oceans I swim in. Of Recycle, Reuse, and Reduce – reduce is my fav.   
10. Above all else, I am a human being. I make mistakes. I say things I wish I could take back. I've hurt people – and some of those people are very close to me. But each day
    I live a more authentic life. Each day I embrace the bad and the good in me and the people around me. I strive to make decisions that positively impact my life and the lives of those around me. The only thing I can do today is live my best life.

All we can do is the best that we can do.

Happy birthday to me. I am alone today but surrounded by all of those that have touched my life in one way or another. Thank you and may your next year be more amazing than this one. 

Some Words Just Change Meaning

I've noticed in my lifetime that some words lose their meaning, while others change their meaning. Some words (and names) are retired forever. Hashtag -- you mean number? Hitler -- retired forever.

Campfire is another such word. I set out this evening to watch a movie. It was by Campfire Productions, a television production company founded in 2014. At the beginning of the movie an arrow crosses the screen, the word "campfire" is seen just above the arrow and a small campfire graphic displays just left of the word. The only noise is that of which a small campfire would make.

Having decided to donate all of my birthday and holiday money to the Camp Fire this year, I went to Paradise in late November. What I saw took my breath away. When I read the words across my screen "campfire" I was right back there, in Paradise. The sound of the campfire coming through my computer's speaker literally stopped me.

I realized that the word, campfire, has taken an entirely new meaning. And I didn't live in Paradise. I have a house, all my belongings, my dog, my car. But nonetheless, that word moved me. And the noise of a crackling campfire stopped me.

I met several people while in Paradise. The first person I met was an insurance adjuster. She was kind. She asked if I was an adjuster. I told her that I wasn't. I told her I was there to find out how and where to donate money to the victims of the fire.

I watched as crews began the arduous task of restoring utilities, removing trees, and cleaning up in the wake of the fire.

The trees were marked. One by one the marked trees were felled to the ground and cut into rounds. The rounds left behind, often the only thing on the property other than very large piles of rubble where once a house stood.

The burned houses were ghostly. I knew that many people lost their lives inside their homes. My mom told me she heard on the news that every vehicle with an "x" meant that the vehicle had been searched for missing persons. That only added to the sinking feeling in my gut.

Life once was in each of those houses. Birthday parties, white elephant gift exchanges. The rooms were decorated. Photographs hung on the walls. Secrets stored away in the closet. Friendships made. Lovers met.

The insurance adjuster said she had never seen anything like this before in her career. She said that no one could comprehend this without actually seeing it in person. I believe her.

I found what I was looking for and far more than I wanted. An emergency animal shelter was constructed from tents that are set up for weddings and large events. But, instead of parties, the tents had kennels with animals lost in the fire. Hundreds. One volunteer estimated 500 animals were lost in the fire, including dogs, cats, hamsters, bunnies, horses, and other farm animals.

I dropped off Theodore's old crate. I asked where to donate money and how to do that. I left.

My final stop was to drop off donations I'd gathered in Truckee, water bottles, sleeping bags, jackets, rain suits. I found the Oroville Hope Center's warehouse. The Hope Center rented two additional warehouses -- one for donations and one for victims of the fire to pick up boxes of supplies.

The warehouse was about half the size of a Costco and completely full. Tables stretched in rows from one end to the other with sorted clothing and supplies. Boxes were put together for families to pick up (at the other warehouse).

It was mechanical in nature. I drove up. Volunteers emptied my car. I drove away. The next car drove up. Meanwhile, inside, volunteers sorted the wares placing them on appropriately categorized tables. Oddly, the warehouse was so clean. It was a stark contrast from where I had just been.

After dropping off my donation I stopped to buy a bag of oranges. It seemed odd to buy oranges. I later juiced them and drank fresh squeezed orange juice for a week.

I would think of the Camp Fire every now and again as I heard from friends that lived in Paradise and the surrounding area.

But if I was being completely honest, the Camp Fire has shifted space from the front of my mind to occupy another part of my brain where I don't think about it. And then something like a production company will bring me back.

I know that people are still reeling in the aftermath of the largest, most destructive, and deadliest fires in our history. But for the rest of us that are not right there, it has begun to take a backseat. It's not something we hear about on the news anymore or read about in the paper. But it happened.

And what happened was a shift in the meaning of the word campfire. Things are a certain way and then, they're not. 

Recent Justification I'm a Decent Human Being

Recently I had to fill out paperwork justifying that I'm a decent human being. I answered questions about my moral aptitude, moral compass, volunteerism, and community spirit. I had to justify why I was -- or am -- a good person. Further along in the paperwork I had to provide four references. Individuals that would substantiate my morality, authenticity, and integrity.

I have to go down the references side road for a minute. References are absurd. Who is honestly going to provide a shitty reference? "Hey Bob, will you be my reference? I know I promised I'd water your plants and get your mail, neither of which I did. And that time you pissed me off, yeah it was me who keyed your car. But I was hoping you'd say something positive about me?" Really? Come on. You're only ever going to ask the people who'll vouch for your awesomeness.

Nonetheless, I had to ask four people to vouch for me. One told me to go public in the People's Court (social media) to expose the "ass for what she is" (I'm not the ass in this story). Another wrote: you didn't [bleep] her? To which I replied: that's not part of my rehabilitation. A third wanted to give someone a piece of their mind only for me to say "keep walking" to which he replied "if I'm called, I'm going to use this incident as an example." The fourth person has been a personal reference for my awesomeness for so long, I didn't even call her to ask.

Tonight I was cleaning out old files. For some reason I've kept every certificate I've ever received. Ever. I am awesome. I have certificates proving I'm a good citizen...from 1982! I have thank you cards and certificates of gratitude from far off places, like Nepal for donating 200 lbs (yes, pounds) of clothing. I have congratulation and thank you letters from the Bozeman City Commission for my appointment and work on affordable housing and neighborhood recognition. Along with this supporting documentation of my moral aptitude, I have several, maybe 20 or more, certificates of achievement for all sorts of weird stuff. I'm certified to use fire as a means of habitat rehabilitation in the State of Florida. I am certified to save your life should something befall you in the backcountry and dig you from the debris of an avalanche. Buried in the pile of certificates was my favorite:

Congratulations! You won our drawing contest. Unfortunately, we are unable to use your artwork for our cover as it does not fit the overall message we're hoping to convey. 

Love it. I'm a winner and a loser in the same paragraph!

Filed directly behind "Certificates" was "Credit". Since purging files was the task of the evening I continued. The credit file contained things like the payoff documents for my house in Montana and Colorado, an old speeding ticket I got in Utah. And one other ticket -- dog off leash from Boulder, Colorado marked "paid". I couldn't help but laugh at the irony in finding this gem. The reason I was filling out a form justifying my worthiness all started with a dog off leash. Only this time in California.

In the old west (Montana and Colorado) dogs off leash are handled quite differently. In Colorado it costs $50. But in California you have to prove you're a decent human being. Prove your moral compass hasn't gone haywire since your certificate of good citizenship in 1982. Find four people to justify that you're rehabilitated from the heinous crime of walking a dog off a leash.

And in Montana? Well, that's a funny story. I was in Ecuador climbing and my housemate was watching my dogs in our downtown Bozeman home. He opened the door and in a split second all three dogs (one his, two mine) ran out to the street where a man was walking by. One of the dogs bit the man. My housemate felt horrible. He helped the man and assured him that the dogs were all vaccinated and that if he wanted to have the wound checked out just bring the bill back to the house. The man, in his late 70's, early 80's, went to the care clinic. He came back to the house with a receipt and knocked on the door. The dogs, SAFELY INSIDE THE HOUSE, started barking. My housemate was not fast enough getting to the door so the man decided he would just leave the receipt behind. He opened the door and walked inside. Inside the house that contained the dog that actually bit the man just two days earlier. Inside a house that was not his, his friends, or his relatives. When he walked through the door, he called out, "Hello. I'm just dropping off the receipt from the care clinic for the dog bite."

My housemate came in from out back, paid the man the $30 or so for the care clinic bill. On the way out, the man patted each dog on the head. And my housemate shook his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

And that is how a dog off leash is handled in Montana.

(Connie Garrett aka Samaara Robbins -- apparently still running with dogs off leash!)

Today Things Are Amazing -- Check-in

I woke up this morning like most days “ah! Good morning Theo my snuggle bunny.”

It's been a month and I have yet to eat at a chain restaurant - including Starbucks, picked up a few things at a "big" supermarket, shopped at a store-in-the-box, or really even left my little community in Truckee, California.

What I've learned is that I can do without a lot of things that I used to have to have. And I have resources that I never knew I had.

I'm converting my fifth wheel to a tiny house. I need a table saw to rebuild my closet that I'm moving from one area to another. I was turned on to Truckee Roundhouse. It's a community "makerspace". They have everything I could ever imagine. And it's heated. Friday I attend an open house and tour the space. I'll be building my closet next week. My goal is to have my place ready to host my friends for the Olympics. Tic Toc. I recently confessed that if I still shopped at Lowe's I would have purchased a table saw. For one project. Really? Do I need a table saw? Maybe, but not right now.

When I began this journey, I shopped at Trader Joe's. I've since stopped. Trader Joe's has a horrible environmental track record. In 2016 it settled a case with the EPA for violations of the Clean Water Act. Trader Joe's will be required to pay a $500,000 fine and spend up to $2 million in repairs to refrigeration equipment. The grocery chain is constantly under fire for is overuse of plastic packaging and consumers are demanding (and receiving to some extent) better quality. However, the sustainable agricultural watchdog group, Cornucopia Institute, cautions consumers about organic store brands. Trader Joe's remains secretive about where it resources it's store brands. Earlier this month, a petition was launched by Crate Free Illinois urging Trader Joe's to stop buying pork that uses gestation crates in its supply chain. According to Chicago Tonight "sows kept in crates have lower bone strength and muscle weight and are more likely to exhibit abnormal behaviors, such as repetitive bar-biting." You might think, who cares? Remember that the food you buy comes from somewhere other than the shelf you found it on.

What makes a great photo - organic and cheese - two favorite things, is just that a great photo. There are so many other things I'll miss about Trader Joe's, but for now it's sayonara baby!

My special find: Natural Grocers. I've already spoken about Natural Grocers. I still love it! All organic produce. Always. I don't even have to think.

I'm also really loving New Moon in Truckee (don't hold their website against them, they're re-building). I also found an amazing company Urban Moonshine. I purchased, at New Moon, the Citrus Digestive Bitters. I'm a bitter freak (ha ha!). I am really enjoying this blend and look forward to trying some others.

I came across an Etsy store for Un-Paper Towels. Super environmental, super minimalistic. No waste, no storing rolls of paper towels. Mine are on the way! Here's a little tidbit about Etsy -- most of the stores are local, community based, hand-crafted. And there's a ton of stuff on Etsy.


Along the lines of environmental stewardship, what's with the junk mail! I've decided that should cancer come to claim my body, I'm going to reply to all of the credit card offers and charge to the max! I'm going to go out in style! In this pile of mail, I can literally charge over $200,000. Really? Not OK for so many reasons!

One bonus of living local and making my dollars count is that my credit card bills are decreasing rapidly. I don't have a lot of credit card debt, but I had a revolving balance at Lowes -- not anymore. I was the queen of "just one more camera lense" from Best Buy -- not anymore. I'd cruise the sale racks at Penny's, Macy's, and Nordstom Rack -- not anymore. I don't even like Penny's or Macy's. Sorry, I'm human and can't say the same for Nordstrom Rack. I love Nordstrom Rack! I traded Nordstrom Rack for REI. SUPER LOVIN' REI!

I find that I have a ton of time on my hands and time is amazing. Time is a commodity -- it's the only commodity we don't get back. Once your time is spent, it's gone forever. Leaving existential thought and belief about time out of this conversation, time is all we have to spend. Having sat at the helm of the chemotherapy brigade, I really value my time. Because my side project: 21 Days to Happiness includes daily exercise, I'm out everyday. Of course, my right foot is not a happy camper, but I'm out there. I've discovered there is no poop fairy. I've made a very conscious effort to pick up after my favorite four-legged friend Theodore -- even "off piste". This is in-line with my actual New Year's Resolution, which is to be the best version of myself.

I've found new snacks that I can make. They're super delish. Thanks to Trina at Big Water Studios for the great idea and to Kathi Keville for sharing some great recipe ideas for peanut butter (or almond butter) protein snacks. Here's a simple recipe: A blob of your favorite nut butter, 1 Tbps of protein powder, a little cinnamon, cardamon, and ginger. mix it up, adding more powdered ingredients until it shapes nicely into a ball and tastes good. Wrap in parchment paper to take with you.

Of course, I'm enjoying the tough days at the office...especially the commute. :) Practice "happy." It's a thing!

Sharing Ideas with Woody

A few weeks ago I started an experiment -- can we really shop completely local. Buying from CSAs, farmer's markets, family-owned, employee-owned, and co-ops. Since then I've dedicated my shopping to a bit of pre-planning research and re-con missions to, what I'm calling local, shops.

On December 27th I posted Commitment to Community outlining my "plan". Since then, I've been shopping for food, clothing, wool dryer balls, eateries, hardware-type items, and sunglasses. I've also researched some of my favorite addictions, namely climbing gear. I've done extensive pre-planning for grocery stores within 30 to 40 minutes of my house looking for ethical and responsible places to shop that meet the definition of "community" or "local".

Yesterday, I listened to a FB post of Woody Harrelson. Not only to I love Woody ("Kelly, Kelly, Kelly, Kelly..." and Natural Born Killers) I love his message. It's what my experiment is all about: making your dollars count.

A few days ago I learned some really cool things. Scheels is a HUGE general sporting goods store and it's employee-owned.

Natural Grocers, aka Vitamin Cottage, began in Colorado, similar to Whole Foods. Natural Grocers made conscious decisions about what to carry in their stores, how to grow, and what would drive their business. Unlike Whole Foods, Natural Grocers did not sell out. Instead they said "hey, we can do this." Natural Grocers only sells organic produce, hormone, GMO-free meat, nothing in their store has artificial colors, flavors, or preservatives. Before it was cool, they went bag-free. Natural Grocers was built on the foundation that a healthy lifestyle can be affordable for everyone. Natural Grocers is traded on the NYSE under the ticker NGVC. (More about voting with dollars in the stock market in another post.)

I've received some criticism that shopping at Natural Grocers or indulging in an In N Out burger and fries is not shopping local. I want to be perfectly clear that my experiment has nothing to do with income. I don't think any business should be limited in growth. Just know that the hamburger you're eating didn't come from the shelf you picked it up from. It came from an animal that lived somewhere and ate something. Community is a bigger picture than items on a shelf and number of stores.

Last night I walked the downtown Truckee strip. I stopped at Mellow Fellow for dinner. I had a glass of wine at Uncorked (visit Uncorked in Truckee, Squaw, and Northstar). The owners also own Soupa at the base of Squaw Valley where their ingredients come from the Food Hub, the soup is home made. It can take some time to get through the line at Soupa, but it's definitely my go-to, and has been for years, at Squaw. I finished at a little shop carrying all things local, including a much needed wool dryer ball. I also found a handmade silver ring to adorn my left hand.

Being committed to the community is taking time to mindfully shop, understanding that what is on the shelf came from somewhere, and being conscious that every dollar you spend is a vote for something.

Happy shopping!

#makeyourdollarscount