Time for the Best of Times...

"Time is what we want most, but what we use worst."  WILLIAM PENN

One of  my dearest friends on the planet has a father who is gravely ill.  The kind of ill that is heart wrenching with a very pessimistic medical outlook and a very low survival rate.  But before you decide to stop reading this blog post because of it's overly sad tone, let me assure you, this is a happy story.

Over the past few months since his father's illness has become more serious, I've been unable to get in touch with my friend most days. He's extremely busy taking care of his dad, but also super busy taking time.

Last week  I called him after a long day of work and he quickly let me know that he had taken the day off to go swimming. Seems his dad decided he wanted to go swimming that morning and so they dropped everything and went for a dip. They apparently had a beautiful time and followed it up with some ice cream and a park visit with a gorgeous mountain view. TIME well taken.

They now do a lot of preparing healthy meals together and juicing. Eating together, they actually sit down and share their food and their day.  Yet another thing that was almost impossible to find the time for has now become commonplace.  Precious TIME.

Last weekend they made a journey home, but chose to take the long route. Taking every dirt road and old highway along the way, his dad showed him all the areas where he had once worked as a driller in the oil field.  They also ventured to rivers where he had camped and places he had once called home across three states.  I think the journey normally takes about 7 hours, their journey took more like 12. Beautiful, scenic TIME to share.

They have lots and lots of time for visiting.  Catching up on old stories, new stories and funny anecdotes to pass their lazy evenings away with a little laughter on the patio. Reliving and sharing moments they may have forgotten to share. The precious kinda TIME for the best of times.

Lately it seems they find a lot of time to do a lot of things there was never time to do before.  They're teaching me a lot about TAKING time.  I wonder why we don't TAKE time more often?  I mean isn't it ours for the taking?

Dear Time,
I've been waiting for you and making plans in order to have you.  I think I just figured out that you're already mine.  I'm sorry.  I've been such a fool and I know that even though you're really patient, you've still got that pesky tick tick tickin' away to do.  Just know ima be all up in your grill soon, so be ready. There will be no more ignoring you.
Love <3
Birdee

Here's hoping you TAKE all the time you want today for whatever you choose and don't you feel anything but wonderful about it.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams
Birdee Bow 

Make Yourself...

"If I hadn't made me I would have fallen apart by now.  I won't let them make me, it's more than I can allow. So when I make me I won't be paper mache.  Make yourself."   Brandon Boyd

I learned to accept the startling sound of a high pressure car wash as my early morning alarm clock. Oh the ungodly hours in which the fine citizens of LA will begin scrubbing their convertibles! ( 7 am to be exact)   No ordinary car wash, this was an extra busy trendy spotless spot right off Lincoln Blvd and just a block from Chauncy's house.

Wild sandy blond curls and surfer shorts, Chauncy was an L.A. transplant just like the rest of us. Thank god she had acquired not only a super cute beach house in Venice, but also a huge crush on my band's drummer. She was the girl who had made it possible for us to stay in LA after wrapping up a west coast tour by letting us park our huge white van and trailer in front of her beach pad.  At least three of us would sleep in the van at night while the others would crash on her floor and couch.  It was truly a rock god send and a chance for us to breath for a minute while getting jobs and a few steps closer to our dream.  Chauncy was bare feet, gypsy heart and hippie chic.  I guess it made sense that she loved our Oklahoma small town big dreams and wide eyed vibe.  All I know is I really loved being able to take a shower every day and the fact that she shared her Paul Mitchell hair products with me was a huge luxury.  Win.

Every  night I fell asleep on the back van seat just beneath the glaring corner street light. Staring up at it gave me a sense of security while at the same time a twinge of fear.  Remembering that band guys were each on the two other bench seats over (and much closer to the front doors)  made it all ok again.  I spent a lot of time envisioning all the great things ahead for us, holding tight to high hopes with talent, music and sheer will.  I was filled with optimism for all the positive things we had going.  That's how it is in life, you either choose to be a believer or you don't.  For better or worse,  I've always chosen to believe.

Mornings were a total circus show as we all tried to get ready for our different job destinations while rummaging through suitcases in our van/house.  My new job was on the Santa Monica Promenade selling LUCKY Brand jeans to soccer moms pushing designer baby carriages.  A job with a lot of flexibility for gig nights and a lot of folding.  I was the third one to be dropped off, right after the 6 am Starbucks band mates.  Ahhh the unbreakable spirit of team work.

Huge wooden ladders lined shelves of folded denim. Shelves stacked all the way up to the ceiling. While staring at the ladders one morning I suddenly heard, "this job sucks and you'll start to hate those sliding wooden ladders with all your guts.  You'll climb them fifteen times for one customer who will NOT be able to decide which style number makes her ass look smaller.  You'll hate her too." ahhhh Sara!

Sara was a total tomboy.  A Chicago native she came to LA to escape the harsh winters and the, "endless grey" as she called it. Dating a semi pro skateboarder, she looked like a walking ad for Hurley in over sized tees and baggy jeans.  On break Sara would walk me to all the hot eatery spots on the promenade while telling me about her many A -List sightings since living in Cali. One day she told me how she had once seen Brandon Boyd writing in a notebook outside of  our store on a park bench.

 "I've seen him there twice, but it's been a while. He's usually in a dark beanie and he just sits there alone."
What, Brandon Boyd?  As in the lead singer of Incubus?  As in one of my favorite lyricists of all time...the one whose artistic and passionate lyrical approach inspired me to not fear my own imagery and to trust my dream? I didn't believe her. She was definitely trippin.  Why would Brandon Boyd choose such a busy consumer style place to write and why would it be in front of a denim store without an ocean view?  He could literally write in the most beautiful hidden beach spots of  Malibu or the world for that matter.  Yeh ok great story, but whatever.

Fast forward 2 weeks later.  7 am, early morning denim meeting. Barely light outside. As I step one foot out of the van, I see him walking toward the grey metal park bench directly in front of the store. Dark beanie, simple tee and jeans and the tell tale red tattoo on his forearm.   Whoa, Sara wasn't hallucinating after all. Setting down, he opened his notepad and stared ahead.  I wondered if this had been his lucky bench? The lucky bench in front of LUCKY?  It made me giggle inside, but it was also so thrilling. I thought of his notepad as pure magic while watching his pen carve out letters of gold.   Had he written Pardon Me here? Maybe my favorite roller coaster line from Wish you were here? As my brain ran through an Iron Man worthy obstacle course of what ifs I tried to carry on with a normal denim morning. I never mentioned to one co-worker that he was outside.   I figured I owed him that much after all the great songs he had shared with me, ok and the rest of the world.
About an hour later he got up and walked away.

Ok so I'm not gonna lie.  I totally ran to the bench and sit where he had been sitting as soon as my break time rolled around.  Ooo what does it take to get from here to there,  I thought.  How do I write the words that touch another person so deeply, how do I turn my little notebook into magic too? 

As I sat there I watched the crowds go by.
Moms with strollers, babies and nannies. Parents and siblings, friends and foreigners. Grandparents and kiddos.  Husbands, wives, Lovers. Teens, talkers, singers, dancers and whistlers. Homeless people pushing shopping carts filled with garbage alongside girls drenched in jewels and designer purses. Men in three piece suits and dudes in baseball caps and khakis. Average people on their way to work in every color of the rainbow and more, doing the daily grind and carefree tourists with no deadlines on their mind.   I suddenly realized that while sitting on that bench I had a front row ticket to    L I F E.

"Sometimes I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear and I can't help but ask myself how much I'll let the fear take the wheel and steer.  It's driven me before, it seems to have a vague haunting mass appeal.  Lately I'm beginning to find that I should be the one behind the wheel.  Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there with open arms and open eyes."   DRIVE    Brandon Boyd

Wishing you unwavering courage to
make
yourself.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

Birdee Bow

Mustard Sandwiches And You Can Light Your Candle Off Of Mine

“If you have a candle, the light won't glow any dimmer if I light yours off of mine.” 
― Steven Tyler

Raquel was a girl who lived a few streets over and around the corner from my house.  She suddenly appeared one afternoon while I was playing in my backyard.  One short conversation over a chain length fence, fast forward a few moments later and we're both sitting crossed legged Indian style in the grass with my basset hound Mack.  Ahhhh the quick bonding of childhood!

We were both around seven years old and  I  never really knew her as Raquel, but rather by her nickname Rocky.  Even through the eyes of a child, I saw Rocky as a bit disheveled. She more often than not had dirty hair, mismatched clothing worn with long woolen socks and dress sandals. I thought it an odd footwear choice as it was summertime in Texas and I was living in my bare feet and running around like a wild banshee. I wondered how anyone could handle those Sunday School dress sandals all day and have any fun at all, the very idea of those socks looked mighty hot to me.  Rocky was cool as heck, adorable freckled face, big brown eyes, scrappy tough and always up for adventures.  I always looked forward to her visits, but the one thing I never looked forward to was her passion for mustard and bologna sandwiches.  She seemed to have a never ending supply of white bread and yellow mustard stained crumbs in her hands and a heaping excess of mustard all around her mouth. Dried mustard is a crusty, scary thing and don't even get me started on the overwhelmingly sickening vinegary smell . UGH. My stomach churns even now at the very thought of it.  A very unhinging kind of sight which created many years of my own mustard avoidance and still to this day I only use the stuff in the most sparing of fashion. I guess mustard scars run deep.  Anyway, it wasn't even really the mustard sitch, but rather a spat over sharing toys which eventually sent me marching straight into the kitchen to seek my mom's council one afternoon over Rocky.

Ok, so as with most things in life, mom's know everything and even though I thought my back yard pow-wow play dates with my new friend Rocky were mysterious and quite possibly even a secret?  Nope, ahhhh the view from a kitchen window! I told Mom about Rocky's inability to share and the overwhelmingly creepy mustard issue. She gently explained to me that Rocky was alone a lot and how she lived only with her father and he worked in the oil field all day and wasn't at home too much to spend time with her and her older sister.  I guess Rocky was left alone to make a lot of bologna sandwiches for lunch. Her sharing and wardrobe choices were also all on her own. I thought it was kinda grown up of Rocky, but it also made me feel so sad.

Mom told me that sometimes people don't know how to share because they don't feel like they've been given much in life so sharing means losing something they might never get back.  She told me we all learn at different points in life that the more we give the more we eventually get in return. Mom's resolution to my problem went something like this, "if you don't like the way she's behaving then  teach her differently by your own actions and remember to be patient"   Uhhh what?  TEACH her?  What did that even mean?  HELLO mom I'm NOT a teacher, just go out there & TELL her to SHARE. Jeeeeez.  

A few days later Rocky and I were trying to pull my unwitting basset hound around the back yard in a wagon when Mom came out with iced lemonade and cookies on a tray.  "Have as much as you like, there's more inside!" her words rang out.  As we ran toward the goodies, mom put the tray down and pulled out a warm wet washcloth,  BAM! before I even knew what was happening this lightening speed scratchy wash cloth was now suddenly all over my face in a most humiliating swiping and blinding manner as she said things like "oh sweetheart you should really mind your manners, your face is covered with dirt & your hands are just filthy, you're certainly not being very ladylike! You should always keep your face clean"  As she finished wiping my face with her supersonic wash force,  she continued cleaning my hands. Ok by now I'm thinking,  mom this is entirely uncalled for & wayyyy outta line, when suddenly she pulled out another washcloth only this one was for Rocky.
  "Oh Rocky you're just a mess too let's get that mustard off your face and those crumbs off your hands, ladies must be ladies!"   I watched in amazement as Rocky's face became mustard free for the first time in our short friendship and her smile more bright. As we stuffed our faces with cookies and lemonade, I realized at that moment something which I am constantly reminded of even to this day,
My mom is a genius
      and she looks so pretty in the sunlight.
 
Go easy on the mustard today.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams
xo

Birdee Bow

Jessie's Girl & The PCH Highway

"One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can't utter."                                                                                               James Earl Jones

Having been a friend of Rick Springfield and his insanely talented band for a few years now, I thought I had seen the whole Springfield Deal.  I've seen many of his rock shows in different venues, different cities and even shared the stage a time or two, so I expected my latest sojourn to one of his shows to be much like the others.  It wasn't.

 As I made my way into the small intimate theatre, I instantly felt a different vibe than I had known.  Total chill, as if I was headed into an old friend's downstairs den to go through their favorite dusty records and have a candle lit listening party.  As he walked out onto the stage, there was also something different about him, a calmness.  Maybe a newly refined sense of self awareness? I'm not sure, but it seemed like he had come to this place, on this night,  to share in a way he had never shared before.  Genuine sincerity filled the room and all the smoke and mirrors had been left behind.

 As he began playing the songs that make the ladies scream, the acoustic versions read as raw as the strings upon his acoustic guitar. Suddenly I was listening to the lyrics of songs I've heard a millions times, but this time I was truly hearing them.  As he relived stories of friendships, first bands and moments of his childhood, the one story that really stood out for me was the quintessential unrequited love story behind Jessie's Girl.

In his late 20's he had all but given up on the music scene and had enrolled in a stained glass class in Pasadena to learn a new trade with an idea of touring the world as a glass artisan of cathedrals and great works of architecture.  Thankfully, a beautiful woman walked into that class who not only took his breath away, but also his hopes of something more when her boyfriend walked into the class behind her.

 Day after day he watched as the cute girl sitting near to him was anything but interested in him. The constant admiration between the couple was a source of sexual angst for Springfield and that angst eventually made it's way into his songwriting.  The boyfriend was actually named Gary, but Gary didn't flow too well with the melody his heart was strumming out onto the guitar and eventually it became Jessie.   Jessie's Girl,  just another song in a struggling songwriter's repertoire.  The class ended, the friendships ended with no forwarding info and life went on.

Fast forward a few months later and Jessie's Girl is now working it's way up the charts. Soon the song would become the chart topping hit which would not only put Rick Springfield on the map, but on the road to pop stardom and international success.  Gary?  Gary Who?
And Jessie's girl?  Yep the girl has no clue that she is, was or ever would become the infamous  Jessie's Girl.

30 something years later Jessie's Girl is still oblivious to the fact that she's the girl in the most popular unrequited love song of the past 3 decades.  How fun to imagine this probably 60 something year old woman rockin' out to the song that was written with her in mind, at the karaoke bar, at her best friend's wedding, maybe even dancing in the crowd at a Rick Springfield concert. I must say, the mind reels with the possibilities.

  It makes one marvel over how oblivious we are to so many things in this life.  I mean, after all, aren't we all some body's Jessie's Girl or Jessica's Guy?  Maybe the most amazing things in life are the things which we never know, the secret pining for our attentions that will never be fully realized or the sweet things done for one another in secret.  Secret admirers and passing glances and the beauty you sometimes feel, but can't explain, that tingling feeling that makes you feel alive! The one we chalk up to the summer breeze or sunshine softly landing upon our shoulders...what if all those amazing chills are really songs? Songs somewhere being sung by someone, just for us.

  I think the mystery of life is indeed the most addictive aspect of our journey.

Then again, maybe Jessie's Girl does know, but she's just so unbelievably cool that she never really cared. Ahhh, I LOVE to think of Jessie's Girl that way!
Aviator sunglasses on, hair blowing, top down on her '81 Firebird.
She's blaring her song down the Pacific Coast Highway,
playing along with the charade.


Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xo

Birdee Bow

Hands of time.. can't even form a fist

"I am invariably late for appointments...sometimes as much as two hours.  I've tried to change my ways, but the things that make me late are too strong, and too pleasing."  Marilyn Monroe

Life moves terribly fast doesn't it?  It's astonishing to me the amount of times I've had plans to say something, do something or share something with someone & it somehow slipped out of  my day. 

How does that happen?  Honestly, how do the most important things seem to fall through the cracks ?  

Recently, I had the privilege of spending a few hours with some very dear friends of mine.  We hadn't been able to see each for a few months, so it was GOLDEN.

Funny how I felt the urge of time even as we spoke. I had places to be, they had places to be. Commitments & deadlines & those who were expecting us.. I knew the seconds were ticking...I knew there would be distractions & cell phones & general life interruptions & I wanted it all to STOP!!  AAArrrgh!!!

Sadly,I found myself annoyed even by the genuinely kind waiter who took our order because he too was stealing a millisecond of our precious time.   As I tried to mentally categorize all the facts, events & smiles I wanted to share with them in their order of importance, I was subconsciously (& maybe not so subconsciously) racing against the clock.  

I want my 2014 to be more about ignoring the clock.

I want a New Year filled with relaxed moments of sharing.

Beautiful moments should never fall prey to the tiny defenseless hands of a clock. After all, they can't even form a fist!

 just sayin  ;)

Sometimes I truly want to

S M A S H   C L O C K S 

Here's to making the

time.

Making it Count.

&

Not apologizing for it.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams,

xoxo

Birdee Bow

Treat YO Self...

"Treat Yo Self.  Don't Cheat Yo Self!!"

We live in a world where the phrase "Treat Yourself!" primarily conjures up ideas of shopping on Madison Avenue or maxing out your Amex on the hottest new trend item at Nastygal.com. And I won't even mention the sugar induced brain freeze thoughts of treating yourself to ice cream or extra helping sprinkles atop that Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey waffle cone. We all know those treats are delicious. 

Deliciously fabulous.

..but forever fleeting.  

I began contemplating the Treat YO Self term yesterday when a friend of mine said,

"You work too hard, you really should treat yourself more often."  

WHA?  Seriously?

It struck me as funny because I feel like I treat myself all the time. 

I'm pretty sure my entire life has been a somewhat selfish, self absorbed kinda treatment.

I think she meant a different type of nurturing.

It made me stop & think about the real treatment I'm after.

The true treatment that makes it all worth while.. 

( Hint: it has little to do with Chanel Boxes) 

TREAT YO Self!

Treat yourself to some positive thoughts about who you are & how far you've come.

Treat yourself to some beautiful memories from moments that melt your heart.

Treat yourself to a convo with some positive someone who would LOVE to hear from you.

Treat yourself to

*Lazy Days

*No Fretting Days

*Days Without Purpose &

*Days of Rest

Treat yourself to a long walk with sunshine on your shoulder..

Treat yourself to silliness, awkwardness &

Complete Unplanned Randomness

It's your play list

go ahead

play your favorite song

All

Day

Long

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams,
xo

Birdee Bow

You can Fake It. Just Shake It :)

"Let's Dance. Put on your Red Shoes &
Dance The Blues"
  David Bowie

The stars were super twinkly that night, a beautiful style distraction.   The kind of twinkling that catches the corner of your eye leaving you unsure of what you may have just seen, but far too beautiful to be a satellite or a plane.

As I made my way through the crowd, I began to realize my long circular skirt & vintage cardigan might have been an overdressed choice for this country gathering. Picnic blankets, girls in denim cutoffs & guys in ball caps were more the norm.  I didn't care.  I felt alive, happy in the summer warmth & ready for good music.  Just as the band struck a downbeat, an older gentleman appeared out of thin air and hit the dance floor.  Hit seems a rather lackluster word for the amount of oomph & fervor he possessed.   His was the type of enthusiasm one would usually associate with a 20 Something on a Cancun spring break weekend, but with much more grace & refinement. Dapper style in a brown bowler hat & suspenders, his gray beard & pale gray tweed pants seemed the type of match up that could only have been a magical mistake. Whisking up a girl from the front row,  I watched in amazement as he swung her around the dance floor.  Fluid movement with rapid fire accuracy.  Commanding the attention of everyone near the gazebo lights, their SMILES were louder than the entire band on stage.  I was mesmerized..

Just then, I felt a soft voice upon my shoulder,

 "You can't wear a fabulous skirt like that & not twirl it on the dance floor", a beautiful woman with long silver hair & the brightest green eyes ever continued "You gotta get out there!"  "Ah. Thank you No, but I do love watching those 2!  Look at 'em go!" I replied.  "I know, she went on, That's my husband, isn't he handsome? I usually wait to jump in later in the evening. We're both dancers from way back. Keeps us young!"  We continued  talking over the loud speakers & exchanged thoughts about the summer temperatures & the way we both loved vintage clothing & a myriad of girlish things, when suddenly it happened. Grabbing my hand from off my hip, "My wife says you wanna dance!"  " Ohhh. uh.no. y'know. I'm just here for the band..uh, please I'd rather not..uh

BOOM.

There I was on the dance floor with The Advanced Dancing Machine & although I knew there was no spotlight in sight?  I felt one shining straight down. 

On me. 

Highlighting all  my awkwardness.

Just as I went into full panic mode.
Just as I had decided that right now would be a perfect time to fake an asthma attack or a fainting spell,
A

 miracle happened.

I began to dance.

I began to dance a dance I had never danced before.

Following his lead, I twirled, quick stepped & literally flew through the air.

"You got this! " he kept saying as I shook my head in fear.

I felt like one of those 

dancing girls on GREASE who just randomly fall into the hand jive by accident. 

Y'know the ones who somehow

 (through the magic of cinema) know all the predetermined stops & starts? 

It wasn't long before my laughter engulfed my fears & I was (later as I learned)  dancing the jitterbug.

Don't ask me how.

A few dances later & a limbo line or two,  I made my way home.

Putting the skirt back onto the hanger, I brushed my fingers across it's shiny organza.

It seemed to shine more brightly, 

like it knew it had stolen the twinkle away from the stars that night.

Sometimes when I catch even a glimpse of that skirt, I swear it beckons to me..

to go out 

& 

dance.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xo

Birdee Bow

2 Buck Shazam!!

"As the sun sets, we've all had those nights where you question your choices and where your life is going."  Tori Amos

We went there a lot in the summertime.  I only remember the time of  year so specifically because of the sound of my flip flops upon the creaky (terribly uneven) hardwood floors & the fact that I was usually in a swimsuit top & shorts. I was endlessly in swimming lessons, but that's another story.  M.E. Moses, it was the kind of store where you could find school supplies on one aisle & an ice cream soda shop, complete with spinning red bar stools & a malt machine, on the other. It always smelled like popcorn. I loved the aisles of M.E. Moses.  To me, it felt like walking into an amusement park with endless possibilities & a better than average chance of exiting with a purchase of my choosing.  Ok, so said chosen item would need to be $2 or less, but still it was fabulous.  I have no idea why the memory of M.E. Moses keeps popping into my mind lately, but I think it's about choices.  So many choices!  Oooo the amount of time a child will spend debating a 2 buck purchase. Picking one thing up, typically some sort of barbie ensemble complete with shoes, I would carry it around the store until aha! Something else bright & shiny would appear & SHAZAM this was the thing I'd been waiting for. The most fabulous item EVER!  Probably a bright swirly beach ball or some sort of cheap board game in which to harass my entire family. After all, why should they miss out on all the fun? 
Sometimes my life feels like an aisle at M.E. Moses.  SO many things I want to do, so many things I want to see. So many projects. Kinda crowded. SO many ideas, changing from one day to the next. I feel like I'll never have enough time to explore all the possibilities, but one thing's for sure..

Ima need at least $2.50

I think I'll slip on my flip flops & grab a malt.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xo

Birdee Bow

Holding Patterns

"She was a girl who knew how to be happy, even when she was sad..& that's important - you know."

Marilyn Monroe

One gorgeous sunny afternoon while flying the friendly skies I heard that dreaded announcement one never really hopes to hear while at 20,000 feet.  "Ladies & Gentlemen we've been notified there's a landing back up. We'll be in a holding pattern for a bit.  We'll keep you posted."  I imagined the plane like a huge jet propelled waiting room in the air, just circling around & around killing time in the clouds.  As I felt the warm sun shining through the window & across my shoulders, I turned another page of Vogue.  "Relax",  I said to myself with a huge breath & a looong exhale.  I started taking a closer look at my cabin neighbors, the sort of second look I had not even thought of taking a few moments before.  I'm sure the minutes between the pilot's announcement  & the actual prepare for landing call were 15 to 20 at most, but it's amazing how those seconds seem to feel like hours.  And although time kept slowly inching along at snail speeds?  Eventually, a funny thing happened.. I began to become more comfortable, more at ease with the situation. Forgetting what was taking place, I was happily oblivious in the holding pattern.

Reflecting on that event now, I can't help but think of the holding patterns of life.
Isn't it interesting how we sometimes stay just a little bit too long or hold on just a little bit too tight?  At all costs we become accustomed to the patterns, somehow finding solace in the infinite circles that bring us back to the same results again & again.   Is their familiarity in the loops?  I'm not sure, but I think it has a lot less to do with human nature & a lot more to do with human spirit.  We're fighters.  Survivors.  It's what we do.  We wanna take our circumstances & turn them into bright & shiny chances.  Ok, so sometimes enough is enough..circles eventually have to stop.  But I love the idea that holding patterns, even in their most languid state, can result in:  RESILIENCE.

Maybe a little dizziness is a small price to pay, if it gets us where we wanna go.

Wishing you circles that turn into roads that lead to your happiness..

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xo

Birdee Bow

ME? Really?

On a recent John Hughes movie marathon I fell madly in love with Sixteen Candles all over again.  So many classic scenes & memorable quotes from the movie about the worst birthday ever. I've seen it a million times so I was a bit surprised when one particular moment gave me that deer in the headlight feeling. A millisecond of  the movie which I had forgotten or misplaced somewhere in my memory of Molly Ringwald awesomeness.  It's the moment when she exits the church..after her sister's debacle of a wedding.  When her character Samantha Baker steps out onto the church steps in that hideous pink bridesmaid dress with a wreath of carnations wrapped around her hair and there HE is.  The crush of the century, Jake Ryan.  Not standing there, not walking there, not moving there..just leaning there against the coolest red Porsche of 1984 teenage dreams. Cool. Nonchalant.  Casual..in that whole perfect sweater vest, button down collar shirt, 501 Levi's & penny loafers way...  Ooo okok so as GREAT as he looks? The moment I'm actually referring to is not that one ;) it's the moment when Samantha does the double take, looking over her shoulder "ME?" pointing to herself she motions with her mouth..as if to say YOU are waiting for ME? Really?

"YEH You" He motions back with a smile.

"ME?"  What a great metaphor for life. When we're 16 we expect to have those moments, but who knew they lasted all life through??  And honestly I think guessing & second guessing oneself has nothing to do with self esteem but rather something to do with reality, truth & that endearing lost attribute of the past called modesty.

And honestly, isn't it more fun not always knowing?  Isn't it ok to not be proof positive all the time?
I think it's entirely more daring to put it all out there without a clue.  Zero stamped guarantees.
No matter how many candles.

May your day be filled with John Hughes scenes as stellar as a Johnny Bender Fist Pump in the air.
  
"YEH You."

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xo

Birdee Bow

Megaphone A la Mode

I find it more than a bit amusing that the French term "a la mode" means everything Chic & In Fashion.  When in the U.S.?  We automatically think of pie with ice cream on the side:)  Maybe that says something about our culture or maybe it just says something about pie always being in fashion.  I'm a fan of pie always being in fashion..

I once met a great indie band on the road called Semidivine.   I think they are no longer together, but I can still remember one of their fabulous songs.  It was called Megaphone.

Stellar Lyrics:

"Put it out there with a megaphone; put it out there when you're all alone.  Put it out there for the  world to see.  Put it out there when your heart's in need..  Wake them up" 

I love the power packed into such a seemingly simplistic line.  It kinda says it all.  Don't we all often wish we  could just FIRE UP the megaphone!?  Say it like we feel it.  No judgement, no repercussion.  Shout it out for the entire world to hear.  Get it OFF our chest & then let it go...  

So today?  I am imagining my little megaphone (it's super cute yellow with a black racing stripe)  This is MY fantasy so play along.  I'm walking out into the middle of Time's Square NYC: gold strappy sandals & this brand new fabu salmon mod dress..(Wha? fashion is always part of my fantasies) & then?  Beltin it OUT with a huge " Listen up WORLD cuz I got SOMETHIN to SAY!!" 

Then the fantasy ends with me eating Cherry Pie A la Mode & feeling entirely fashionable with the someone who makes me smile soooooo hard it makes my face hurt.

PUT IT OUT THERE 

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams,

xo

Birdee Bow