Tokyo, Tennessee

We had the day to make our own. To savor the flavors Nashville had to offer our curious spirits. Without any specific activity in mind, I found myself googling "top 10 things to do in Nashville". Not exactly the stuff of Hunter S. Thompson adventures are made of, but oh well. It got the job done. I found the website for the Cheekwood Botannical Garden and Art Museum. The admission price was harmonious to our budget, and it boasted a sensational sculpture garden. With the weather behaving beautifully, we were convinced. So, with a GPS by our side, and pop-hits of the 90's pouring out of the car stereo-J and I were off. 

The Cheekwood Estate is basically the house that Maxwell Coffee built (mmm- good to the last drop). It's comprised of a sprawling mansion (in the Art-Deco tradition), a series of wooded trails, gardens, and an art gallery within the mansion. I must say, timing is everything. And we hit the nail on the head with this particular outing. The heavy sun warmed our backs, the whipping wind kept us moving, and the autumn leaves stunned our senses. It was perfect wandering weather, and perfect is hard to come by. We learned about southern hospitality, pineapples, and stetson hats. Perusing the 19th century artwork, we marveled at the days when people were built with a pinch more grit under their nails. Their rough and tumble existence never ceases to amaze me; it presents such a stark contrast to the pampered life of modernity I lead.  

But the highpoint of the day came while crunching through the fallen leaves of the Japanese garden. Trudging along, we turned a corner and- bam! We had unconsciously meandered into a lush bamboo forest! Who would have thought we could found a little piece of Asia, tucked away in the hills of Nashville!? This is why I love travel- it offers an endless supply of the unexpected. It's when I'm the naive traveler, that I'm able to experience things with slightly wider eyes. I can humbly let the universe unfold around me. 

Pardon the dust bunnies

I feel like my blog has developed cobwebs and dust bunnies in my absence. Frankly, I simply haven't felt very editorial or creative. Writing is funny; she has a mind of her own - and she certainly will not visit a stubborn or unreceptive mind. These last several weeks have found my brain extremely immovable and unyielding to the creative process (oh that mysterious and ever-unfolding creative process). However, I have undergone a much needed change of scenery in the last few days. My pal J and I, bid our dearest Ann Arbor adieu in the sleepy hours of last saturday morning. We planned this trip  with the sole intention of shimmying the cobwebs from our hair and the dust off our boots. We wanted to leave behind the routines and responsibilities of our day to day existence. Though Ann Arbor is a lovely motherland, it's always good to venture out and remember why we love her in the first place. Due to economic constraints, as well as a sense of adventure, we opted for the megabus mode of transportation. This option required a short stop-over in Chicago in order to catch another bus to Tennessee. We chose Tennessee as our final destination because my darling big brother resides in Nashville, and is always up for house-guests.

 After a fabulously fun, 24 hour stay in Chicago, we were headed for the honky tonk scene- good 'ole Nashville, Tennessee. Yee-haw! My brother Ry,  scooped us up from a Memphis bus stop (at an extremely uncivilized hour) and took home two very tired, and bus-weary girls. The next morning found us bouncing on a vacation bubble. The unfamiliar setting, the deviation from normal routine, and the balmy climate, had us riding a giddy train. I'm hoping for this to translate into a creative breakthrough... stay tuned...

Bigs and Littles

Kids and I have an interesting dynamic. Especially, older, more cognizant children; they don't know what to make of me at first. I seem unsure, timid, and slightly awkward. I don't rush children into accepting, or trusting, me right away- I like to give them plenty of time to bloom at a natural (their own) pace. Conversely, Babies and toddler-aged kids warm to me rather quickly. Fortunately, I can usually win them over within two to three hours (average estimate). I try to be gentle with their raw feelings, converse with them in a dignified manner (that doesn't insult anyone's intelligence), pick  my battles, and sternly uphold appropriate boundaries. Don't get me wrong- I also have my times of low energy, limited patience, and creative drought (who wants to play I Spy AGAIN?). But there seems to be an emotional and intuitive core that I'm able to tap into,  as needed.

Today, I was on babysitting duty from 8am to 3pm. A pal of mine referred the child's mother to me- one of the perks of working at a daycare is the ripe opportunity to earn some extra cash, via babysitting. Therefore, she was from a classroom I had rarely ever worked in, so I wasn't too familiar with the little one (female, age 6, we'll call her S). However, after a few rounds of memory game, puzzle piecing, and teeter-tottering; we were pals. We spent the day strolling through the shady woods around her house, talking about monarch butterflies, favorite things, and gender relations- "Girls are smart, and boys are strong, but dumb" said S. I tried my damnedest to give her a fresh perspective "Girls can be as strong as boys, and boys can be as smart as girls". But she wasn't having any of that- very set in her ways- I figured this was one of those battles best not  picked. We put daisies in our hair and treasures in the "purse" attached to her bicycle (a green guitar pick, two rocks, and smashed dandelion). At one point on our nature walk, we had to cut across a few backyards. Armed with the knowledge that briefly, and respectfully trespassing would not result in public flogging- I assured S that she was not going to get yelled at, or get in trouble.
"If anyone gets in trouble- it's me" I said.
"But what if they ask whose idea it was?" S inquired.
"It was my idea honey, we'll just always say it was my idea" I replied.
"So I wont get in trouble- you'll just say it was you? why?" S said.
"You will not get in trouble, I will. And I'm okay with that- because I'm a grown-up. Don't worry" I said.
She beamed up at me like I was superman, and I just said everything she needed to hear. She gave me the privilege of holding her hand for the rest of the afternoon.

Upon her mother's arrival, we shared a heartfelt hug- at which time, she clung to the ends of my hair, inhaled the seemingly heavenly aroma, and proclaimed "It smells like coconut, I just love it". It melted my heart and weakened my knees. I drove away on that wonderful cloud that only an adoring child can put you on. When I spend time with kids I can correct the embarrassments of my own childhood, I can hug when others screeched, and I can listen when others lectured. I screw up (like so many before me), but I try to understand. I strive to ascend and be the bigger person so that the littles can feel the freedom to be little - leave the big problems to me; you just love, live, and learn....for now anyway!

Oz-fest 2011

I love the Wizard of Oz. Something about it causes my mind to hush, my jaw to relax, and my whole body to unclench. It also has the amazing ability to bring my emotions to a rolling boil. I blubber like a small child, with diaper rash. I can't help it- before the good witch even makes her first appearance, I find my eyes heavy with dew. Upon my most recent viewing (last night), I realized what I find so compelling about this film. It isn't the story (which is a pretty basic arch that has been told in thousands of various incarnations), it isn't the dialogue (trite at best), and it most certainly isn't the visual appeal (chintzy set design, and a lot of not-so-special effects).

It's Judy Garland, plain and simple. Although, plain and simple are two adjectives that could never be attributed to the late great Ms. Garland. She was breathtaking in her beauty, and her complexity. It's hard to fathom how such emotional depth could be captured within the miniscule window of narrative film. But the crafty bitch gets me every time. It's only with that sad twinkle in her eye, and a thick drawl in her voice, that the land beyond the rainbow becomes a very real place. It catches me in my throat; that sad girl with longing in her eyes. I believe, that almost every young lady (with a pulse, and a soul that is) has longed- for someone,
some thing, or some place; very far away. A state of being that is more whole, where we are better. Where life, is simply better. Things will make sense, somewhere over that rainbow. Bills will get paid, fingernails will not be chewed, and anxiety melts like lemon drops. So hats off to you Ms. Garland...AND your bitchin' pair of ruby, red kicks !

Isn't It A-Peeling?

Some days are beautiful. Annnnd some days smell like hot garbage. Fortunately, today was the former. It was merciful, because yesterday- was most certainly the latter variety. It reeked of overwhelming emotions, difficult conversations, and unpalatable thoughts. Today, however, was lovely. Work flowed smoothly;  a delicious balance of affectionate babies, and entertaining banter with coworkers. I also got the pleasure of having lunch with my mom. There is something so warm and quaint about having your mother pick you up from work and take you to lunch- it's even better as an adult than it was as a kid. Hearing my boss compliment my work ethic to the very person responsible for teaching me how to work- was a glowing moment for me. It's also that surreal sensation that comes when worlds collide. In the past, I have successfully (or not so successfully), kept my life severely compartmentalized. It was a familiar way to live for me. But, I have learned, that in order for others to REALLY know you- they must know all shades; the good, the bad, and the ugly humanity. Hence, the lines of my life are blurring more and more by the day. Which is good, but it's new, and slightly jarring. And though it may cause some momentary anxiety (mostly the loss of control and perceived organization), it does make me feel much less alone in my skin. Anyway, seeing my mother at my workplace was strange and fun. She got to meet all the little one's I chatter endlessly about.

After work, I decided to revel in the fabulous weather Michigan decided to bestow upon it's residents (she is a fickle lady; one prone to ridiculous mood swings). I grabbed one of the books I'm working through and headed to the nearest Starbucks (p.s. - the salted caramel mochas are every bit as insane as one would hope). At a flimsy, cafe table- I floated happily in the pink light of the setting sun. I found myself thinking about my last beautiful day. It was Saturday, a very sunny Saturday...

My friend J had an extra ticket to the University of Michigan vs. Eastern game, and I was open to giving spectator sports another shot. My father has tried, on many occasions, to teach me the game of football. He is an avid/ obsessive sports fan (especially for the champions of the west *cough* GO BLUE). Sadly, I always grew frustrated with my lack of understanding, and his lack of patience. Therefore, I was attending the game quite blindly. I love learning new things, and I'm stubborn. I'll beat my head against that table if that's the only way to understand its molecular structure. So it goes.
Between my boyfriend M, and my pal J, I was outfitted for success. M provided me with the proper attire-a tee shirt emblazoned with the home team logo (*cough* GO BLUE). J accessorized my ensemble with a delightful face-sticker in the shape of the infamous, Michigan M. I was like a kindergartner whose parents wanted me to have a damn fine first day of school. I felt very loved, if not slightly pitiful.

We parked a decent distance from the stadium, which was perfect. The weather was picturesque. The clouds looked computer generated in their perfection. Upon entering the big house, I just stood and gaped. Its size was astounding. Places like that never seem as giant from the outside as they do within. After picking my jaw off the floor, the game passed in a fun flurry of fight songs and camaraderie- the student section is the place to sit for the restless and rowdy! I loved it. J is such a wonderfully gentle teacher and guide- I actually was able to absorb. I learned the very basics at least. Which is an accomplishment after 23 years of scratching my head. And I must say, I nailed the Victor's Valiant.

After the game we decided to take a walking tour of Ann Arbor- literally. We walked from the stadium to the downtown area. We soaked in the eclectic platter that is State street. We meandered the shady sidewalks of the diag. We got our grub on at BTB Cantina. Each setting flashed by amidst the music of the city and, the comfort of lively conversation. We ended our evening at the Oktoberfest that had overtaken Main Street. After several rounds of delightful brew and polka dancing, I felt thoroughly stimulated. Practically percolating with the joy of being.

Sadly, the day after, I found myself sunburned (in addition to being whimsically, branded thanks to my face-sticker) and exhausted. The day after THAT, was one helluva a hot, garbage day. My face was peeling, and nothing seemed to be working in my favor. But today, I sat comfortably with the realization that ya win some, and ya lose some. Some days buzz your bones in the best way. While others, are spent picking at the burnt remains of your face. So it goes.

Smells

I have an extremely responsive sense of smell. I can walk into any room and pick up on even the slightest of unsavory odors. Recently, I walked into my boyfriend's apartment and proclaimed "It reeks of old yogurt in this place!" And it did. I sniffed around for awhile, before I chalked it up to my overly sensitive nostrils. I tend to have nasty odor paranoia; unpleasant smells stay in my system, so I project them upon environments that aren't appropriate. On the flip side, I can also thoroughly enjoy pleasant smells on a level of nirvana-like pleasure. Every human I have ever loved can be summarized by their olfactory cocktail.


For instance, the faintest whiff of lilacs immediately takes me to my childhood backyard. My mother's lilac bushes- only blooming for that magical week in mid-June-causing the house to brim with aromatic waves of floral glory. Heavenly! Sadly, they wilted quickly and emitted a sickly perfume....ah well! My eldest brother, Sean, will always be the odor of sweat, marijuana, and Tommy Hilfiger cologne. Ryan, our proverbial middle child, carries the heavy fragrance of mildewy-basement, fabric softener, and aftershave. 


My boyfriend Matt; he has a distinct fragrance. He wafts a beautiful combination of vanilla, soap, and fresh rain. My grandma Hussey conjures the distinct smell of pink. I know that sounds silly, but she smelled of pink! Like a mixture of flowers and laundry detergent that howled pink in my young mind. 


Smells have a strong impact on my emotions. It not only applies to the smell that clings to those I love, but also to the smells THEY love. If they fancy a particular food; you best be sure that I will hold that trace of culinary inclination within my heart; in the deepest bowels of my emotional reservoir.