of girl parties and girlfriends

I love this photo. Unabashed giggles at my daughter's seventh birthday party. The theme was "spa party" that year — I vividly recall the time and effort involved in giving 12 girls manicures and pedicures after they frolicked in our candlelit jacuzzi spa. Add party games, dinner, birthday cake, cleanup, bad pop music, and unending girl screaming, and I'm ready to be carried off to the nearest insane asylum. Of course, they always wanted a slumber party, but it never failed — just when I'd gotten them all quiet in their sleeping bags at some ungodly hour, there'd be at least one girl who decided she was homesick and needed mom or dad to pick her up. But it's all been totally worth it.

My girl turned fifteen this week and we just put a cap on her most recent birthday bash. Many of the same girls from those early years were in attendance, along with some darling new acquaintances. And although the guests are now texting boys from their cell phones and socializing on facebook during the festivities, things really aren't too different than the birthday bashes of old. A similar cast of characters enjoyed a hilarious afternoon of bowling followed by a video contest, pizza dinner, gourmet cupcakes, groovin' to whatever the kids are listening to these days at full blast, screaming, and chattering into the night. And a first: No one went home early!

Over the years the guest list has been altered. Those who've proven to be kind and supportive have kept coming year after year. My girl seems to have an innate radar for selecting friends who are genuine and unselfish and build her up rather than tear her down. I'd go so far as to say these friendships will serve as the building blocks for every tough situation she'll encounter in life.

I don't know if her mother has provided her with the best example in this area. I made the grave error of replacing my girlfriends with whatever boy or man happened to be in my life at the time. This began in my teenage years and lasted until after my divorce when some wonderful, selfless women came out of the woodwork to rescue me. I thought I had friends when I was married, but I didn't fully realize that maintaining these friendships meant constantly working on them — scheduling lunches and girls nights out or simply picking up the phone to ask "how are you?" Never did it. I was waiting for them to call me. They did, sometimes, but for the most part, I depended on the poor man in my life as the outlet for all my girl-motions. Yeah, that went over really well. Point is, we girls need to vent, and we need to vent to each other. If we're lucky enough to be blessed with girlfriends who are, as my grandmother put it, "old shoes," the love and support we receive from them will be genuine, constant, and beyond measure.

As girls — and women — all is right with the world when we feel loved and supported by our fellow girlfriends. And we are happy to oblige when a true friend needs us. I cannot stress enough the importance of this concept to my daughter. Good supportive girlfriends, along with strong faith in her higher power, will carry her through each and every life mishap. She'll be well-equipped for the journey.

detours in the highway of life

From April 26, 2009


Watched another Woody Allen movie last night. Manhattan. I love that film. If you haven’t had the pleasure of watching it, it involves a love triangle between Woody, Diane Keaton, and another guy (forget the actor’s name). Filmed in black & white with a George Gershwin score — a really beautiful film. Woody has a 17-year-old girlfriend (Muriel Hemmingway), and he knows the relationship’s totally wrong. After he meets Diane Keaton (his married friend's girlfriend), he comes up with a classic line to drop the 17-year-old. “Think of me as a detour in the highway of life.”

I just love that line. And it gets me thinking. Which events in my life are merely detours, and which are the real thing? If I take out all of the fluff in my life based on bad decisions I’ve made, would I end up with a straight line of a life that has purpose and makes sense? Can anyone but the Dalai Lama do this? Maybe it’s all about trial and error, and the silly events in our life we’d like to forget really do matter. Like that weird dude I met at a dance club in Pasadena who took me to Green Street Café and ordered us an appetizer-only dinner with water. His father was dying of cancer and he took me to his boyhood home in Lancaster to meet him. His mom worked at a supermarket. I think we went out about three times. I don’t even remember his name. Does he count?

I recently discovered a diary I wrote in 1989. My thoughts, feelings, and accounts of each day for the entire year. I read it not long ago. I’d forgotten about most of the events of that year, but there they were — the gospel truth of Kirsten in blue and black ink. It was a rough year for sure. Cliff and I were newly married and had just moved to Texas to make a new start. We were living with his parents. I was 25 — way immature and insecure. I got a job at a home security company and I spent way too much ink wondering whether they’d promote me and/or give me an office (both of which never happened). This was before the kids were born, and even then, there were big troubles in the marriage — but I digress. That year DID matter. I made lots of mistakes. But I learned from them. I’m not the same person today. Thank God.

Maybe instead of a straight line, we’re supposed to have detours and those detours are actually part of the line. And maybe the line’s supposed to be crooked with only brief periods of straight. I believe what I’m doing with the kids is pretty much straight (OK, I’ve had my detours there, too). It’s all an ongoing project, I guess. But I keep trying. And I get better. And then I fall off and do something completely ridiculous —and the line gets curvy again. I feel like I have a vague clue sometimes, and when I don’t, I pray. I should really pray first.

When my dad used to phone us from one of his exotic travel locations, he’d say he was calling “from the highway of life.” Maybe that’s why I like that line so much.

Anteekin'

From recent excursion to a fabulous Cayucos antique store — ideal Saturday afternoon to-do with someone you really like! P.S. Elvis is everywhere! 

not of this world

I've had a bit of a writer's block lately. Make that an everything block. Too much work, responsibility, and guilt over the many unaccomplished items on my to do list had reduced me to nothing less than veg mode. So I took a week off of work, making sure everyone at the office knew I wasn't actually going anywhere, I just NEEDED away from the place. Things like floor scrubbing and connecting with teenage son and daughter go sadly neglected when you're toiling at at the office from 8:30 to 5:00+ every day (doing the job of at least two full-time employees, I might add).

So after three whole days absent from the magazine I realized I did need a break, but not necessarily to take care of unfinished duties at home. What I needed was QUIET. At least that's what my God told me as I peered out over the ocean accompanied by the refrain of crashing waves — and his voice — on day one. Seems floor scrubbing is really low on his priority list. The real issue: He doesn't take kindly to me going through the motions and all but completely ignoring him on a daily basis and this needed to be dealt with — immediately. That and I should thank my ex for bringing me to this place. Um, where did that come from? And again, yesterday, he pompously made himself appear to me in magnificent loveliness during my morning exercise walk, verifying to my very own self that as much as I bitch and moan about my dire situation on this planet, there are glimpses of heaven everywhere I look. And if you happen to live in paradise as I do, the glimpses are full-length features in glorious technicolor. THIS is why I'm here, he tells me. I'm listening. And I see.

Christmas Quiet

Last year's handmade card from my girl and boy

Wednesday night before Christmas. Just returned home from a long workday to a hauntingly quiet house. I can almost hear the crickets chirping. The kids left for their dad's today and won't be home till 2:00 Christmas day. It's been six years since their dad and I separated, and this year he got prime Christmas time (we alternate) — Eve and morning. After six years you'd think I'd be used to this. But there's the tree — lovingly decorated with traditional German ornaments and little gems created by the kids over the years. The table's decked out with red runner and candles nestled in advent wreath. Pine tree clippings decoratively scattered about the house and homemade cookies from last weekend's cookie decorating party ready and waiting. The proverbial Christmas lights are on, and no one's home.

Fact is, if the kids were here, I don't know if I'd be getting much warm and fuzzy from them anyway, due to the fact that they're teenagers and just a little too cool for all the kid stuff. Our Christmas traditions are fun, but my girl and boy no longer approach them with childlike excitement from days of old. We go through the motions and all agree on the cute factor. But I'd give anything to go back to the days when belief in Santa held precedence over anything we did this time of year.

I guess married couples with families also experience this phenomenon. But at least hubby and wife have each other. Dang if it isn't hard to come home to an empty house, kids gone, and no one to talk to. There's nothing on TV and I'm too wiped out to read a book. No one's posting anything good on Facebook. I didn't sign up for this.

My thoughts have hitched a ride on my funk and turn to a pre-Christmas seven years ago. Back then I was under the impression we were a happy family. Hubby and son had been working on a project in the neglected sunroom behind our garage since October — I was informed it was my Christmas present and not to go in there. I honored their request, and on Christmas Eve, my family escorted me — blindfolded — to the room: A carpeted oasis complete with heated jacuzzi spa, framed prints of tropical scenes, potted plants, surround sound stereo, lit candles, new slippers and a fuzzy robe hanging in the corner — the best present I'd ever received. If this isn't proof your husband loves you, I don't know what is. Four months later I discovered the horrible truth. I've been a single mom — God I hate that term — ever since.

I hardly ever go back to that day in my life — and the disastrous year that followed. Things are so much better now. And this Christmas I can celebrate the fact that because of all that's happened, I've made room for good things in my life. Like wonderful friends, old and new, who have been loving and consistent beyond belief; a good man who loves and appreciates me for exactly who I am; a deep and complete connection with my creator; and a renewed appreciation for my own worth and talent. Best of all, these two amazing children who I love more than life itself, and who should be here with me tonight drinking eggnog and laughing at my lame jokes. God willing, this will come to pass in 2 1/2 days, although I can't guarantee the laughing at my jokes part. They're a tough audience lately!

If you have made it this far, thank you for allowing me my forum to lament. I feel a lot better.

Yuletide greetings, all. Look around, the gifts abound.

Back of card. I believe the formula's correct, but have never actually checked my son's math to verify this.
Why would I?

Third Advent

Today, Third Advent, my heart is full of warmth and gratitude.





The lovely choral rendition is by the San Francisco Girl's Chorus.

a healing garden

"To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and to endure the betrayal of false friends. To appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded." 
— Ralph Waldo Emerson

Rosie: The queen of the castle

My compliments to cultivator.

Avec musique:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ofk9JyCQqKs