Goodnight, Sweet Prince

So I haven't been on the internet all day long. I'm sitting in the middle of Deadrick Street eating food truck Thursday when my friend looks at me and says, "Dude. Brace yourself. Prince is dead." I sat stunned. "You mean the musician, or an actual prince?" "The musician."

We sat in silence for the next couple minutes. "Damn" I said. "Yeah" she said. "Wow." "Yeah."

By the time we got back to the apartment I was afraid of expressing my sadness on the internet-what he meant to me as the strange girl who never seemed to fit in her small town. How he wore his strangeness all on the outside, how he wrote amazingly beautiful songs, and weird songs and dirty songs. Seeing strong, sexy females in his band and on his stage. How his music ran the gamut from R&B to blues to punk to pop. How even his Batman theme song was cool as shit even though the movie was questionable at best. Seeing this crazy, weird, wonderful wild androgynous man in heels and velvet suits in videos on this new "MTV" thing. Hearing his emotion in every song and watching him give it all when I got to see him in concert twice. Watching him combine all the outrageousness of James Brown with the showmanship of Michael Jackson and the wardrobe of a Jane Austen novel. Punk. As. Fuck.

Then I get home and see that everyone I know is mourning publicly for this amazingly talented man. I don't care who he was in real life, what his hangups were, or anything else. He was Prince. He changed so many things for my generation. Thank you, sir, for so many memories. And for making all of us weirdos feel a little less weird.

Thoughts from the morning of my 48th birthday.

I've been awake since 2:30 a.m.

This is becoming a regular thing for me and I don't like it. Granted, I went to bed and collapsed at 8:30 last night, but that's beside the point. When you're up at 2:30 a.m. there is just not much to do unless you're up for work.

I've been sitting in my living room thinking for the past couple of hours. Thinking about life in general, and my life specifically. It's my birthday today and I'm one year closer to that horrible number that gave me my one and only age-related freak out when I was 35. (I basically sobbed to my husband "I'm only 15 years away from FIFTY!" as he rocked me back and forth, probably rolling his eyes.)

I really don't think much about aging, at least maybe not as much as I should. I think about life more like a journey that started before me and will continue long after me. I think about how I fit into my own corner of the world and how I affect those who are around me. I also think about how they affect me. Is it good or bad? Positivity or negativity? Do we hold each other up or tear one another down?

My life has changed dramatically over the past decade. I am not the same person that I was at 38 or even the same person I was four years ago. Back then I had two very long-term friends who I thought would always be a part of my life. Now, they are no longer around. I made the decision to end a friendship that wasn't really working because I saw that she had no integrity in the way she treated others. The second one was ended by the other person's actions toward me about something that I had no control over. I ended up with not one person in my corner after that one, except my husband.

My relationship with my husband is better now than it ever has been. We've both learned over 22 years of marriage how to make it work and be happy. Here's the secret: it involved a lot of open, honest, and sometimes painful conversations. It involved putting hurt feelings and ego to the side. It involved giving more and expecting less. And letting go of the past in order to move forward. Neither of us was a terrific spouse before, and we aren't perfect now. But, like life, it's a work in progress.

There are certain milestones, birthdays being one of them, that cause me to reflect on life. This morning I was thinking about who and what inspires me and I came to a shocking conclusion. My life inspires my writing and my friends inspire me. My friends. Inspire. Me. They amaze me. And it was only when I realized it that I thought, I don't think I've ever had a group of friends in my life who inspire me.

I've had (and still do have) some really wonderful friends, don't get me wrong. I've had friends I admired, friends who influenced me, friends who shocked me, friends who made me laugh. I've had friends who were there through thick and thin, friends who showed up when husband almost died, who dragged me away from the hospital and tried to keep me together. I've had friends who I talked to every day and friends who I talked to once a year.

But this group right here, right now, they inspire the hell out of me. Inspire me to do good work, follow my dreams, write the chapters of my own life, and just by god keep it together. They show me every day what life is like when you live as an authentic person. When you are honest about your thoughts and your life with your friends and with yourself. I spent many years of my life not being authentic, trying to be someone else rather than just working figuring myself out. I always tried to fit in, one of the dangers of moving a lot as a kid, and I could morph into almost any situation with no problem. Except one big problem. I honestly had no idea who I was because I was always trying to match everyone around me.

I am so lucky to have these girls in my life. I am so lucky to be inspired and honored to be accepted just the way I am. Of course, they've made me completely unacceptable in general society because I am so used to our talks full of dirty language, brutal honesty, girlie love, sexual innuendo, and a general disrespect for silverware. (I'm looking at you, Beth!) That doesn't matter though, because they made me free to be myself, and that is the best gift you can give anyone.

I haven't been easy over the past 2 years. I know I've been "taking" a lot but I also know that I'm going to do and be better over the next 2 years. So thank you to all my friends. Seriously. You mean the world to me. Keep doing you, and I'll keep doing me. Wait, that sounded dirty....




PS After writing this, I scrolled through Facebook this morning and found these on my feed. It seemed appropriate to share them here.

Half a year

Five Minutes on a Sunday morning. With Jana's Thinking Place and Stream of Consciousness Sunday.



My thoughts are spinning this Sunday morning. So much has been going on this week. I find it harder and harder to keep up with it all.

This has been one hell of a month, actually hell of a year. I remember white knuckling it to finish out 2012 with hopes that this would be better. But no such luck.

Mom surgery, twice. Me surgery. Sis in law and mom in law surgery. Friend died. Friend diagnosed bi-polar. Friends divorced. Editor fired. I now have 2 jobs to do until further notice.

However, this year, for some reason, I feel that I've come into my own. Finally. Embraced who I am and what I stand for and embraced the fact that if people don't like that, they don't deserve to be my friend. I've met new people and forged friendships with them based on who and what I really, truly am.

2013 may go down in my history as a very complex year, or a very terrible year depending on how I choose to see it. Only time will tell.

About my dad.....

Today is Father's Day. I've written here in the past about my husband's father, who passed away in 2006. But I've never written about my own dad.

I love my dad very much. However, I have never felt especially close to him. I've always thought it was because of his old-fashioned views about women and my extremely liberal, modern view that we are as good as men. It caused a lot of issues between us and while I've often wondered, as someone who grew up in a family with a very WWII inspired family dynamic, how did I get to be who I am?

The biggest thing I remember about dad from my early childhood is that he just wasn't around a lot. True or not, that's how it seemed. He had a job that kept him on the road a lot. I remember my brother and I would snuggle in and sleep with mom in their huge king-sized bed while he was gone. We would be so disgruntled when he came home and we were kicked out back to our own beds!

But as an adult, I know that he was working to provide for the family and being a responsible dad. So this morning I was thinking, I wonder what else has caused distance between us because I, as a selfish child (lets face it all children are selfish), saw it as a negative. Many of these things, looking back as an adult, are really a positive and have made me who I am today.

My dad has always been a good provider. He was in sales, and he was damned good at his job. The man could sell ice in Alaska. He worked hard to provide for us and while we weren't wealthy by any means, I grew up for the most part in a middle class home. Well, back when there was such a thing. There were times when things were tough, but I know he always hustled to keep us fed, sheltered and clothed.

As a good provider, he set an example of how to be a hard worker. I don't remember a day ever in my childhood that my dad did not get up, put on a suit and tie and leave the house in the morning. This includes an extended period of unemployment in the late 1970's when things were less than ideal economically in our country. I don't know or need to know where he went every day, but I know he was out hustling to find a job. He was never one to sit around and wait for anything.

My dad was always a dreamer. He always had plans and ideas and wishes to make his (and by extension, ours) life better. He liked having nice things, nice cars, clothes, and homes. Though I know it was frustrating for my mom, ever the down to earth realist who had to reel him in, he was always looking for that pot of gold.

My dad is adventurous. He has always had a serious wanderlust and moved around like a gypsy most of his life, following his job or just his instinct. One of my earliest memories is of my mom, brother and me in my pajamas on the runway at the airport picking dad up from a business trip. He used to travel a lot and was gone a lot when I was little, but I know it was just part of earning a living for the family. And it taught me how to change and adapt and make new friends easily.

After he had to take early retirement around 60, I thought he'd wither away without somewhere to go every day. He found something to do part-time and within a few years started a business that has grown to epic proportions. It has provided him and mom with a retirement income that most people don't have, and more than that it has given him a purpose for getting up and going every day. He's now almost 85 and still running that business almost 20 years after it started.

My dad is good with people. He always has a smile, a joke, a story. It's part of what makes him good at sales. He truly enjoys being around people, visiting, joking and talking to them.

My dad knows how to bargain. This is a skill that I believe is getting lost in our culture, and one that I believe every parent owes it to their child to teach. I know how to bargain if I am in a situation to do so, and I don't hesitate to do it. We, as Americans, don't like to do it– we cringe at the thought and as a result are taken advantage of way too often.

I once bought a used Mercedes, offering the dealer $13,000 on a $16,500 pricetag. I called my dad proudly to tell him about my victory. “I got it for 13,200!” To which he replied, “Tsk. He would have gone to 13! If he could do 13,200 he could do 13.” That's the kind of no holds barred bargaining he enjoys, and he's much more bold about it than I am.

My dad was our fearless protector. He did anything and everything to help us out when we were kids. He was one of those dads who took up for us and stood up for us no matter what. And now that we're adults I know we could still count on him.

My dad is a very old-fashioned man. Although sometimes that is a bone of contention for me as a very modern woman and someone who has always believed in women's equality (I honestly don't know WHERE I got it from) I believe it is a virtue, in a way. Because it makes him who he is. He is the type of man who got up, got dressed and went to work every day to provide for his family. He took care of my mom and is her best friend. He took care of us, and still does in many ways.

The thing is, I have always believed that my dad and I were total opposites and that's why we didn't get along great. I always envied the "daddy's girls" that I knew. But only today do I realize that we are so much alike it's scary.

So, happy father's day to my dad, Jack Peyton. I love you very much and appreciate all you've done for me in my life. I know I can always, always count on you.

Sacrifice, Willpower & Coffee Creamer

For the past week I have returned to my very strict diet in order to lose the last bit of weight that I wanted to lose. I have had to give up anything with sugar, artificial sweeteners, fat, oil, and starches. I have given up diet soda for green tea,  salad dressings for vinegar or lemon juice. I have given up cheese, donuts, italian bread, pasta, in favor of lean meats, veggies and fruit. My candy, Mike & Ikes, gummy worms, chewy caramel and chocolate. I have given up alchohol, y'all. All of which is fine. Really. I can do anything if I know it works, and I know this works.

 I go out to eat with friends and watch them eat fried foods while I have a plain salad. Watch them have a beer while I sip lemon water. None of it has bothered me. Last summer when I did my first 6 week stint on this diet, no one was more surprised than I at my iron willpower. I don't begrudge giving up anything, it's just food after all. And I know if I stick with it I will lose weight. However, there is one small exception. 

I would sell my soul right now to be able to put some creamer in my coffee. It surprises me how overwhelming the urge, need, craving is to have it. It isn't that I don't like the flavor of coffee, I do. It's just SO much more pleasurable to me with creamer in it. I love the color, I love the taste, it even changes the smell. I know it is a psychological thing, but of all things to struggle with, this one has surprised me.

I value my morning coffee. I am notorious for not being able to do without it, come what may. I will not substitute a soda or anything just for the caffeine. It is something about having that steaming hot mug of coffee in the morning that just makes my day start off right. If my coffee isn't good, I am grumpy. If I don't get enough, I am listless. And if I don't get creamer, I am unsatisfied.

Last time I was on this diet I thought, “after spending 6 weeks drinking coffee without creamer I think maybe I will keep doing it.” That lasted one day. If even that.

I know, I make this sound like some enormous sacrifice. And really, it isn't. In the grand scheme of life, it's a minute detail that simply makes life....comfortable,  predictable and easier to deal with. I think of my friend Brownie who had triple bypass 3 weeks ago. I think of all that she's going through during recovery and how she is kicking ass and taking names. What a strong woman! I am so proud of her and her recovery. 

And I think that if she can kick ass on heart disease, I can give up my stupid creamer for 6 weeks. How ridiculous to be pining away for something so stupid. And yet, at night, I dream of once again having my beloved creamer. Pouring into my coffee like so much delicious pleasure right there in my cup. 

MMMMMMMM. Honestly..... 

Is that on FaceBook?

Well, it's a snow day again so I don't have to risk my life to attend class today! Snow days are only exciting if you had somewhere to be, aren't they. I emailed my professor at 7:30am telling her that I know the university doesn't close for snow, but I drive 30 minutes and didn't know if I would risk it. She very promptly answered that she doesn't "do snow" either and had called off class. What a relief. I don't feel like such a wimp.

This past weekend hubby and I went with a couple of my girlfriends and one GH (girlfriend husband) to see a band in the nearby college town. Despite our differing ages, all of us grew up in this area, and most of us spent at least part of our 20's and 30's (if not longer) in and around the bars, nightclubs, and honkey tonks in the city. Hubby went to college here, and it is only 30 minutes or so away from our hometown. The occasion for the evening was mostly to get out of our little hamlet and see some new faces, but as an excuse, one of my bff's co-worker's son had a band and this was there CD release party.

We planned this outing a couple weeks in advance but as usual there was a last minute flurry of texting that day. "are we still on?" "what time are you going over there?" "we're eating out, are you?" I refrained from a "what are you going to wear?" text as I though, seriously, I am 40-something and should be able to pick my own clothes. Which then led to my exasperated husband getting an unsolicited 30 minute fashion show full of "OK, is this better than the other?" "OK, now this is the same one with a different shirt, better or worse?" "OK, this is the first one again, do you like it or the last one?" "Which shoes? I know they look almost the same but these are dressier." Poor guy.

The show was to start around 8:30 but I know enough about musicians to know they NEVER start on time. Apparently that violates some sort of universal rule, the addendum to which is "never play before 10pm". But hubby and I left the house early enough to stop on the way and treat ourselves to dinner out at a local restaurant before heading out to the show. I had ended up wearing the cutest pair of little red shoes with a bit of a heel, so when we got there and the ice and snow remained on the parking lot I was a bit dismayed. Walking like a 70 year old granny I carefully made my way across the snow and ice and into the door.

So our 2 friends were there and soon the other friend and husband arrived and we filled up our table. The early crowd wasn't bad, a lot of people our age, ok, I can handle this. As the hour got later and later, all the college kids began pouring in. The table next to ours filled up with chain-smoking, loud-talking, obsessive picture-taking, ants-in-their-pants twenty-something girls who couldn't seem to quit seat swapping and jumping up and down to go to the bar.

The smoke? Was bad. I can not WAIT for the city to pass their no-smoking ordinance. After living in places where restaurants, and sometimes even bars, are smokeless, it is tough getting used to the smoke again. But this was a bar, a live music venue, so what are ya gonna do? By the time we had been sitting for about an hour, one of my friends had a splitting headache and she and her carpool buddy had to go home. Before the music even started. I can't say I blame her, I was feeling the effects of smoke breathing in my lungs and I just new I would be sick the next day. So, we were left with just the four of us, two couples, and we shifted around so that we could all see the stage and still talk. Hubby and I who were across the large, round table from one another, had been text-talking all night because you could barely hear the music, much less each other.

My friend and I talked about how much we miss our youth. We talked about how different things are now days with the cell phones and texting and picture-taking. Every moment, good or bad, is now documented. I shudder to think of some of the pictures of me that would be out there had there been camera phones in the late 80's/early 90's. I remember just planning an evening out back then was so much trouble. If you didn't find out in the dorm where everyone was headed for the night, you'd spend half your night driving from bar to bar looking to see where "your" crowd was. There were no cell phones in 1987, not really on college students anyway. Now, they just text "where are you?" "we're at (where ever)", and problem solved. Again, there's something to be said for old school because if you didn't want someone to find you back then, you could avoid being found.

The girls at the table next to us got more raucous, smoked more, and took even more pictures as the night went on. The camera phone they used had a flash and it was about to set me off into a siezure they were flashing it so much. For some reason the girl with her back to us was having most of the pictures taken and everyone else was coming around the table to pose with her. She was also the chain smoker of the group. Seriously, it was getting on my nerves. Hubby was on my left and we were directly facing the table. Girlfriend and GH were on my right and sort of behind them.

As the non-stop paparazzi flash kept going off I noticed hubby craning his neck around. When I looked over at him I realized that he was trying to get his face into the background of their pictures! When they got the camera ready he would push up real tall in his seat and lean between the people hoping to mess up the picture. I laughed at him so hard, and then leaned over and said "I will give you a WHOLE dollar if you walk over there and stand behind them for the next one." We started laughing uncontrollably and had to share with GF and GH the reason why we were laughing. Then, hubby started holding up his hands in a peace sign or whatever, but he was still too chicken to do it. All of a sudden I look up and GH  is right behind the girls with his hands out to the side in jazz hands  like "WHAAAA-ZZZAAAAH!!!"  I don't know how to describe it but it is sort of like this:

Except without the top hat. Or yellow fur. So, yeah, not so cute as this. But you get the picture, though what we saw was only from the back so I can only guess about the expression on his face. He probably didn't have those cute whiskers and a pink nose. So maybe it was more like this:

I sure hope it was, JB looks crazy here.

Well, the three of us are DYING laughing as the flash goes off and GH calmly walks away and goes to the bar to order another drink. We finally stop laughing and just as we do, the girls look at the picture, look at each other, then look around at us, but the guy in their picture is gone. The looks on their faces? Priceless. We explode into laughter again and my GF walks over to apologize for her husband, in true southern woman fashion.

Now, I am one of those people? Once you get me laughing I can't stop. Can. Not. I kept giggling forever. After GH does this, you'd think it would slow down their picture taking, but no. They keep right on flashing. So with a prime example set, hubby decides he's got the nerve to do it to and quickly flashes in and out of a picture. By this time the one guy at the ladies' table (I think he was their token gay bff) notices what we're doing and starts laughing too, but doesn't warn them. This sends me off into fits of laughter again. Cause I'm mature like that.

Then? The topper? Some random guy, a 40-something in khakis and dress shirt looking like an off-duty news anchor. swoops in from behind us, poses for the next picture, turns around to hubby and says "I saw you do it and I wanted do it too!" He says, beaming from ear to ear. Hubby and I explode in laughter, hubs gives him a fist-bump and suddenly it occurs to me.

Even in a room of 20-somethings? We 40-somethings are still the life of the party. Or the troublemakers. Whatever. I really wish one of those pictures would show up on Facebook. Because you can't make this stuff up! My life? Honestly....

Nonsensical 5a.m. Thoughts

This morning I awakened at 5 a.m. apparently unable to sleep any longer. I haven't done this for a very long time. Over the past few years I have been sleeping like the dead for as long as my 40-something body will allow, which is usually the unseemly hour of 7 a.m., 8 if I am lucky. There was a time, 5 or 6 years ago, when I had a raging problem with insomnia. At the time, I thought things were OK I just had a lot going on and a lot on my mind. Looking back, I realize that everything was not fine, and that no it isn't normal to sleep 3 hours and then get up at 2 a.m., work until the sun comes up. Then watch Regis and Kelly. This went on for months, but I digress.

Anyway, I am blaming this early hour on the cup of coffee I had post-waterpark yesterday to give me a little lift. I normally can NOT do caffeine after about 2 p.m. and I don't know what got into me, but I had a cup of iced coffee around 6 yesterday. As I was drinking it I was literally thinking, "what the heck are you doing, Herndon?" But I drank it anyway, like I was still in my 20's and have no issues with caffeine keeping me awake.

Today I awakened with a Ben Folds song running over and over in my head, and as is normal for that dreamy sleep/waking state, I had a realization after years of listening and singing this song exactly what the first lyric meant. I just love Ben Folds as a songwriter. I think his prose is insightful, funny and sometimes poignant but always irrevrent. Hard to do. Anyway, the first line of this song is "Good morning son, I am a bird. Wearing a brown polyester shirt." Anyway, I thought I had the song figured out until I googled the lyrics today and had them all wrong. My lyrics make much more sense, but then I guess that is what makes Folds' lyric writing so spectacular to me. Each song on each album is like a mini-short story. As someone who has thus far proven incapable to write an effective short story (obviously I have issues following the "short" mandate), this is fascinating to me. While "Song for the Dumped" will eternally remain on my playlist, my favorite line from this particular song is when he says "you're so much like me. I'm sorry." Wow. Parents out there, can you identify with this?

Anyway, this has nothing to do with anything, except that I love Ben Folds. Check out the video for this song, it is like a Seussical modern-day "Cat's in the Cradle". (BTW what the eFF does that title even mean???) Click here to watch the video, featuring Folds' own son. It is a serious tear-jerker. Ben Folds "Still Fighting It".  Oh, and congrats to my dear sweet friend, the spectacular Bill Jakes and his lovely wife Sarah (with an "h", who I am sure is equally as spectacular though I haven't met her) on the birth of their son, William, this past Thursday. Bill, he will be SO lucky to be "so much like you".  Have a fantastic weekend everyone!