Storm Surge

When living in coastal communities, one of the most dangerous parts of a storm is the surge. We've been inundated over the past month with images of the devastation caused by Harvey, Irma, and Maria, and though most of us would like to move on from all of that destruction, the reality is that we are unable to do so. Many lost their possessions, their homes, and in some cases, their lives. Those of us still here are left to pick up the pieces, one day at a time. Sometimes it feels as though the surge keeps coming and coming...

The Key Thief

I hope you're ready for your next memoir installment because (1) it's been entirely too long since the last soiree, and (2) this debacle recently came to mind and I could not wait to share it with you!

My dancing can sometimes get me into trouble, and this particular evening in question proved to be no different. Moreover, the following morning I was destined for my Caribbean island of bliss!

This night began as many of my escapades do...on the dance floor. When you're gyrating with a hunky young lad, you sometimes lose control of yourself. Wait, maybe that's just me. Anywho...this particular man was at least 10 years my junior, and I was simply enjoying the attention I was getting from such an attractive man-child. As moments often do, this one came and went quickly, and I found myself dancing alone again.

Fast forward about 20 minutes...I realize it's getting late and as I have an early morning flight to catch, I decide to head home. I reach into my pocket to grab my keys as I head for the door, and I HAVE NO KEYS. My mind quickly goes into high gear, as I search all of my pockets again and again, I use the light from my phone to search the floor where I had been dancing, and I retrace my steps from the past three hours!

Then it occurs to me...that schoolboy stole my lunch! I quickly scan the venue and find said pick-pocketer near one of the bars. I quickly make my way over to him, where I find him literally starting a brawl with a fellow patron. Before I can say a word, the much larger, older man pushes the kid to the ground. By this time, a number of spectators are gathering, and someone is yelling to call security. As the kid struggles to his feet, I step in the middle of them and yell at him, "You took my keys." He's completely taken off-guard by my comment, so unwilling or unable to respond, I reach into his pocket and pull out my car keys!

Needless to say, without further ado, I high-tailed it out of the club, to my car, and to the safety of my bed. The next morning, I awoke and said a little prayer for the cojones to do such an absolute stupid thing, unsure if I was referring to not watching my keys and his hands more closely or for stepping right in the middle of a fight. All's well that ends well, right? Plus, I couldn't dwell on it too long; I had a plane to catch!

Romance Novel

Life, my dear, is not a romance novel. Instead, it's a series of mundane, fleeting points in time that all put together may actually inevitably be just that: a romance novel. Sometimes I think of this blog as my own personal romance novel. Perhaps instead of one hero, there have been many heroes, all coming together to form the most scintillating tale there ever was...or maybe not. Regardless, I wouldn't change course for anything in the world.

American Dream

Reprinted from Time magazine:

Jeanette Vizguerra
By: America Ferrera

Some families have emergency plans for fires, earthquakes or tornadoes. Jeannette Vizguerra's family had an emergency plan for a dreaded knock at the door. If U.S. ICE officials came to her home, her children knew to film the encounter, alert friends and family and hide in the bedroom.

The current Administration has scapegoated immigrants, scaring Americans into believing that undocumented people like Jeanette are criminals. She came to this country not to rape, murder or sell drugs, but to create a better life for her family. She shed blood, sweat and tears to become a business owner, striving to give her children more opportunities than she had. This is not a crime. This is the American Dream.

Caramel

His skin was the color of pure caramel. Syrupy sweet; delectable and insatiable. It was like a cool breeze on a hot, humid summer day. Smooth and flawless to the touch, I drank it in like I had not drank in days. And when it was time to go, like Lot, I could not look back.

The Simultaneity of Instants

Sometimes I'm inspired to post simply because I found a perfect title, and today is one of those times!

The Simultaneity of Instants is a chapter heading in All the Light We Cannot See, a captivating read that takes place during WWII. Historical fiction, particularly taking place during this time period, is my favorite genre.

But today, I'm moved beyond the atrocities of that time with this simple yet simultaneously (pun intended) complex title. The author takes a single moment in time, and layer by layer, removes to paint a picture of the intricate network that binds us all together and essentially makes us all human. And it's absolutely fascinating.

Isn't it remarkable how one moment, however fleeting, can change the direction in which the dominoes roll? And how there are some moments you wish you could go back and redo, while others you wouldn't change for the world? Those moments - both kinds - stay with you, like vises on your soul. And no matter what you do, the teeth just won't open.

And the song I cannot get out my head at this moment: The Wolves by Bon Iver

I Dream of You

Last year I shared a story about a young love. From time to time, he comes to me in my dreams, and always it is the same: simultaneously a dream and a nightmare. I always feel conflicted in the dream, yet don't want to wake up. For in the dream, he is with me, right where he was supposed to be.

Unhealthcare

The first step toward passing a repeal of the Affordable Care Act has been taken...and there's no turning back. We have officially detoured from any sense of decency and any regard for humanity.

Melinda Champion of Tryon, NC, who voted for Trump yet currently receives over $10,000 in federal healthcare subsidies because of ACA..."It scares me to death because I don't know what's going to happen." Well, WTH did you think would happen?

When Respect is Lost

Since the inauguration, every single day has been ridden with fear and unease for me and my loved ones. I'm not ashamed to say I have lost a few friends over the outcome of the election. It seems fitting, to tell you the truth.

How can I be so callous, you ask? How can I throw away years of friendship?

Because I can't look at them the same way. In my heart of hearts, they've changed to me. Is it unlike a cheating spouse? How do you look at your loved one the same way after discovering his/her unfaithfulness? How do you move forward when all respect is gone?

Adulting: The End of the Firsts

I realized a few months ago that I am an adult. I know you're thinking that I am well into my 30's and have been an adult for quite some time, but for whatever reason, it hadn't sank in until I started pulling out gray hairs everyday. I may still call my mom every day, but I'm a child no longer. And with that realization has come a burdensome load.

At my age, I'm realizing the "firsts" are few and far between. When you're growing up you have a "first" almost daily - first birthday, first tooth lost, first day of school, etc. As you get older, the firsts get more spread out - first date, first kiss, first love. But when you get to adulthood, the firsts become almost nonexistent, and isn't that the saddest thing you've ever heard?

I tried to explain this concept to Lizard, but this whole adulting thing doesn't seem to bother him in the least. Am I having an early mid-life crisis, or is it simply that I long for the years of the "firsts"? Maybe that's what a mid-life crisis really is.

Another One Bites the Dust

And just like that another one bites the dust. Farewell, Mr. O'Reilly, you disgusting, despicable piece of trash.

A Little (Actually Big) Giggle

I've been waiting for the perfect moment to say this "out loud," and lo and behold, that moment has finally arrived. Every redneck's quintessential wet dream has fallen from grace, and I could not be more giddy inside. Oh, poor Tomi Lahren. That bullshit rhetoric you've been pushing just vomited in your face. Don't cry too hard. You should have known rednecks would dump you hard when they discovered you weren't willing to procreate with them.

Small-Brained

We all know how I feel about the orangutan. It's all I can do these days to keep myself together. My favorite morning activity - listening to NPR - has descended into nothing but a barrage of raucous blustering and stupidity that is borderline comedic from the Oval Office - "Everything I do is awesome. Very, very awesome. (With my tiny hands.)" But it all made sense, after I read this article in the Washington Post. Trump's small-brained supporters want 3 things, all in all:

1. People who talk big. Check.
2. People who tell us our problems are simple and easy to solve, even when they aren't. "Nobody knew health care could be so complicated." For shit's sake.
3. People who look like us (and only us). 

In other words, his voters are a basket of deplorables: prefer talk over action, can't understand complicated thought processes, and racist. Small-brained support for his tiny hands. 

Not my Country

Every day I awake full of fear and trepidation. Yet, why? Why should I worry? Why should I fear? I have an inane piece of paper that screams at me that I should have no worry, that I should have no fear...you see, I'm a citizen; therefore, I belong.

But to what do I belong? A country of radicals hell-bent on deporting millions of our brothers, our sisters, our friends. The young man who cuts my grass each week. The middle-aged mother of three beautiful, intelligent American-born children. The transgender woman who fled a country of persecution and abuse. No, this is not the country to which I belong.

I stand with my undocumented friends and family. And when they make a movie about the Dreamers of this country - because you know one day they will - how will you be portrayed?

Adventure #49: Bungy Jumping

We all have those items on our bucket list that we wonder if they'll ever happen. They hold significance, even among a laundry list of significant events.

I recently went on the trip of a lifetime. I visited the land of fairies, goblins, and elves, and it was an absolutely breathtaking experience. Among a myriad of highlights, however, was one particularly sensational adventure: I swan dived off a ledge with a rope tied around my ankles.

Perhaps stupid, perhaps brave, but no matter what you call it, it was incomparable and second only on my bucket list to #1!

Adventure #48: Women's March

Yesterday, along with hundreds of thousands of women and supporters of women, I marched. I marched for equality, for an end to discrimination, regardless of race, gender, and socioeconomic status, and perhaps more importantly in protest of the tyrant who has taken the helm of this already great country. And it meant something to me. It meant something to be a small part of history, because we are better than this. And this is only the beginning.

Here were a few highlights:
1) The cars slowing down to video, clap, and honk along the route.
2) The 10-year-old boy screaming at the top of his lungs as we marched down the street to City Hall.
3) The Muslim mother and her teenage daughter clapping so fervently.
4) The wife of the white middle-aged couple looking up at her white husband and saying, "Thank you for coming."
5) Singing the National Anthem at the top of my lungs.
6) Watching my own partner weave his way through the crowd to stand by me and hold my hand.

The Fisherman

You know the type. The one that casts his net and sees what he can catch. Chooses one and then throws her back. Stay away from the fisherman. They like fishing more than anything else, anything substantial.