wednesday, pm.

7:00 and the sky’s already transitioning from a light orange haze into darkness when I pull in the driveway. The air is warm and thick, almost humid. I can’t believe its mid-October and still 95 degrees outside. Sweat seems to resonate on any exposed area of skin, and I just can’t seem to get used to it no matter how hard I try. Even though, I know it’s something that I need to get over.

I’m startled out of my daze when my door flies opens and there’s Hayden, ready to greet me with some witty comment. The one’s he’s famous for.

“Ali, I totally beat you. I got down here first.”

“Hayden, dude, I’m not going to go 65 on a dirt road just to beat you. That’s nuts.”

“…whatever. I still beat you!”

The path between the shop and Flyin’ G Ranch is so calming. The trees stand tall with leaves hanging on like little soldiers. The air has that late-Summer smell, but the musky scent of fall is becoming more and more apparent. The gravel and fallen leaves crunch under our feet, eventually giving way to soft and grassy lawn where the sounds of our footsteps cease. As we walk up Penny Lane, he reaches down and interlaces his fingers with mine. We walk and chat, arms swinging in sync. He always has this way of making me feel like a kid again, and I cherish it.

The walk takes all of a minute, and when I look up, the sight is something that always makes me smile. It seems like I always stop and take a mental picture of these things because I’m half afraid that one day, they won’t exist. The other half is because I never want to forget what I feel in my heart when I think about it.

I guess I’m just a sentimental sap in that way.

Greetings are exchanged, along with countless hugs and kisses - each and every one given without hesitation, and oh so generously.

“There she is!”

“How are you?”

“Oh my god did you hear…?”

It’s all so basic, so normal, so right. I’m standing in the kitchen, stirring pasta sauce listening to the excited chatter and stories being exchanged. I hear the inexplicable sound of baby giggles and suddenly, I’m reaching for Maggie and placing her securely on my hip. She studies my face before breaking into a huge grin, and mine follows instantaneously. We wave, we play patty cake, we take pictures, we laugh. I smother her in kisses before she’s whisked away to the next person where she’ll surely kill them with her perfect chubby cheeks, drooly, toothy smile and facial expressions that will bring you to your knees.

Forks clattered on plates, spaghetti was slurped, salad crunched, wine glasses filled (always). 1, 2, 3 rounds it took to finally gather all the trash. A massive black forest cake from Madonna Inn was adorned with candles and a very lively (not to mention off-key) version of Happy Birthday was sang. A baby’s first time seeing such things, a grown women’s fifty-second, the flames dancing and reflecting in both of their eyes.

With eyes closed tight, wishes are made. Just as quickly as the flickering light was there, it's gone and the twisting towers of smoke left behind marks the ending and beginning of another year of life. It's beautiful and symbolic in more ways than one, and it never, ever gets old.

the post in which I have an epiphany.

So, a little-known fun fact about me: I can be extremely stubborn. Hardheaded, irrational, ridiculous. As well as egotistical, prideful and well, “independent”. I airquote the word because as often as I say that’s what I am and though I do believe that I am, to some degree, I’m actually not.

Did that make any sense? Well, WELCOME TO THE INNERWORKINGS OF MY MIND. I don’t get it either.

Let me back this up. Ever since I moved, I’ve developed this hardcore “I’m on my own and I need to do this by myself” independent streak. As the time goes on, this attitude does not waver. It makes perfect sense to me considering it was my choice to move and do this so asking for help from anyone is not an option to me. Well, let me rephrase, it’s not my FIRST option. It’s my very last go-to when I need something and when I say “very last” I truly mean that I’ve sold what I can of my belongings, lived off of Top Ramen and probably even donated blood for money in order to avoid the phone call or email to one or both of my parents asking for something. No, seriously.

I also recognize that I am probably not the only person that does this. I’m just one that emotionally berates herself over it for days prior to and weeks thereafter… giving me yet another great personality trait to deal with. And I wonder why no one wants to hang out with me?

So, I hate being offered help. In any way really, but monetarily, it kicks my ass. I equate it to me being irresponsible and having the person offering see me as being weak. I appreciate any and all consideration of my well-being of course, but I hate…and I mean HATE…that people even think that they need to consider helping me. It feels like an inner failure so I rehash and mull over the situation until I can no longer deal with it. It’s not fun, not at all.

I’m very aware that I need to get over this. Not only is it, quite frankly, stupid but the equation does not mean Help + Allison = Fail and I’m borderline special needs when it comes to anything math related . I figure it means that I did SOMETHING right in my present (or, past?) life and people that I know don’t want to see me fail. Holy crap, they’re actually on my side? Whoa. People actually want to help me without expecting me to get on my knees and grovel or sell my soul? NO WAY. I must have been a pretty awesome person in my past life to deserve to have all these amazing people around me now. Friends, family especially. I’m so fortunate for each and every one of them, even when they do make me cry for hours because I don't understand how they can like me so much.

Whatever. I’m totally having a martini with the man upstairs once I get there. Extra dirty, three olives. My treat.

the post in which I have an Oprah moment.

Saturday started with a 6am wake-up call to meet Bethany, Chelsea and Monique and drive up to SJC to drop Chelnique off so they could go on their Rufus-Fest 2010 in good ol' Canada. [Fun fact: they were flying from SJC to DTW and going into Windsor. My old stomping grounds! Made me a bit nostalgic] So, after we dropped them off, B and I made our way to Santa Cruz for a little while. Other than wanting to die driving to get there (I still don't do well on windy, mountain-esque roads. Don't do well meaning NEED TO PUKE) it's was beautiful. Found an estate sale, saw downtown, had lunch while watching the USA vs. England game, and went thrifting. On our way home, we stopped in Gilroy and hit a Salvation Army when I found a new knit dress THAT HAS POCKETS. FOR FIVE DOLLARS. Needless to say, it was a pretty successful day trip.

...other than the fact that I was so tired when I got home, I felt like I was stoned. No seriously, even a dinner of In N' Out didn't register on the delicious scale when I ate it. All I could think of was the cool underside of my pillows and when I finally did get home it was faceplant into bed, clothes still on and didn't stir until about 10:30 the next morning. Glorious bed! OHMYGODI'MNEVERGOINGTOLEAVEYOUEVERAGAIN BED!

However, the fact that it was about 90 degrees outside, and I was laying in a nest of sweat and drool when I woke up the next morning (AT TEN THIRTY) meant that I needed to get the hell out of dodge and oh, you know, HAVE to go down to San Luis and while I'm down there, just HAPPEN to see Maggie. And when I say "see" I really mean spend the whole day hanging out. It was fun, as it always is.

I really cherish the relationship I'm building with Megan at the same time. It's funny to think that, aside from a few (maybe two) visits to Michigan and two trips here...we didn't really know each other. Now that I'm here and she's here (and um, my incessant need to see her and Maggie just about every weekend) we can finally hang out and get to know each other. I've always said that one of the best things about me moving here was the fact that I could finally get to know this side of my family that I really didn't know for the greater part of my life. Now that they're in my life (or, they allow me to be in theirs, whichever way you look at it) I can't picture them NOT being in it. I constantly learn more about them and our relationships always seem to be enriched and growing. And have I mentioned how much I love being a part of it? Yeah, that horrible noise heard from the rooftop? That was me screaming how much I love it.

Or, it was me scream laughing in a drunken stupor...both scenarios are very likely.

Ok, that's the end of my "ohmygod my family is so cool" Oprah / Dr. Phil ramble. SOMEONE GET THIS GIRL SOME TISSUES, PLEASE.

Oh wait:

This works just fine.

nice to meet you, 2010.

I've been writing, deleting, and re-writing this for the last week. After all of the holiday hoopla, I think I'm finally finding myself back on solid ground with my head on straight. It's been a glorious two weeks of three day weekends with an indefinite amount of glorious naps and the like. I get ANOTHER three day weekend this week because...

THE DUCHESS IS COMING.

yes, that is right. She will be here (well, LAX) tomorrow morning and then is making the drive up to spend a couple (2, really) days with me before going back down south for a week-long cruise (no, I was not invited and I am not jealous. NOT ONE BIT. NOT AT ALL. BECAUSE I HATE DRINKING AND BEACHES AND SUN AND FUN.)

I'm excited to see her, even if it is just for a couple days. The tentative plan is to go wine tasting on Friday (because well, she is a drunk and I am my mothers daughter) and then dinner with the family out here and then Saturday is M's baby shower (side-note: full term, as of yesterday!) so Mom is needless to say, EXCITED AS ALL HELL, to be able to attend. So, it's brunch/shower in the morning and then, I'm not sure. They need to head back to LB sometime that evening so, we'll see where the day takes us.

Yeah, it's short. And not quite ideal but I haven't seen her in...8 months? HOLY GOD. I HAVEN'T SEEN MY MOTHER IN 8 MONTHS. I didn't even realize it had been that long until just now. I'm kind of a terrible kid I guess. Oh well, point being, she will be here taking up my weekend thus, not only did she give me the gift of life, support me for 18 years and all the other cool shit she's done for me, I get a third three-day weekend in a row because of her. THANKS MOM, YOU RULE.

Anyway, that's not what I've been writing and rewriting for the past week, that just came out of SHEER EXCITEMENT. But I feel obligated to acknowledge the new year? I don't do "resolutions", I think they're for sissies. You either do something, or you don't - that's it. Of course, I have ideas. Things that I tell myself I'll do and yes, make a conscious effort to try and achieve but if I don't, then I don't feel like a total failure. This year, mine are fairly simple I guess. And they go a little something like this: Be Healthier. Be Happier. Make better decisions. Love More.

I think that it's fairly simple? Maybe I'm just hoping that the simpler that they are, the more I'll want to stick to them. A new motto for 2010 perhaps? "Simple Times"? I think I could deal with it.

Christmas 2009

So, Christmas Eve.

I just need to say out loud, right now, that being able to wear short sleeves and drive with my sunroof open on December 24th without freezing to death will never, EVER, get old. That's all.

We all gathered at the George Ranch for a fun-filled evening of binge-eating and booze and a continuous flow of laughter that never seemed to end. It was just, a great time. I don't know how else to describe it other than in those simple words. Seeing smiles that seemed to be permanently glued to everyone's' faces was completely contagious and just sitting in a room full of people that I care about. There were (or seemed to be) mountains of presents and watching the young(er) kids tear through them is always fun... even when they do seem to take FOREVER.  Regardless, my cheeks still hurt from smiling and laughing when I woke up the next day so I'd have to say it was a success. Next year though, it going to be awesome. Not one, but TWO babies will be in the mix and the cuteness that will come out of that night will probably be enough to make my heart explode. Well, I've at least got a year to prepare for that.

It was easier this year, much easier than last. I'm still getting used to the fact that I'm around people who have the luxury of having their parents around them while I don't, but my family here more than compensates for it. I have to think of it like, at least I have them, these loving and caring people that put up with me regardless of what I do. That helps fill the aching void in my heart as I look over and see others lean against their Mom's for comfort or high-five their Dad's just because they can. It's really tough sometimes. Sometimes it seems unbearable but I think in some weird and twisted way, it makes me appreciate them even more than I already do. Maybe that doesn't sound right or make sense, but I guess that's how I look at it. Or have to look at it. I don't ever expect not being able to see them whenever I want to not bother me, that would be terrible. But I expect that as I get older, it will get easier. Leaving though, I believe will always be just as tough as the last time. That's just the way it all seems to work.

So I guess what I'm saying is that presents are nice. Gifts are great and I'm thankful for everything that I received but I think I'm finally at the point where I can appreciate the togetherness, unity and camaraderie I get just being in the same room as my family. For those few hours, I'm just able to feel pure and unadulterated happiness which could only be made better by my own parents being there. But since that's not (or wasn't a) option this year, it was the best Christmas gift I think I could have ever gotten.

a message.

I consider myself lucky for most of my life. I grew up with luxuries and opportunities that some kids just don't get.  I've never felt great tragedy, loss or anything of the sort. Twenty-two years, I remained unscathed and unaffected by that type of grief or fear.

My Dad had a heart attack on Wednesday morning. He's fine though, and doing well. Hospital and all that, so he's now resting. But I can honest to god say that I have never IN MY LIFE been so scared. Never in my life have a I felt so... out of control and completely helpless. Literally, my world came to a screeching halt. I'm pretty sure I even stopped breathing because I felt like I was going to pass out and throw up at the exact same time. Once that passed, the tears came (at a minimum as I was, of course, at work and I had to keep some sort of composure) and then when that passed, anger because I'm not there and frustration because I can't be.

All I want to do is hug my Dad, be near him and feel him. Be able to tell him that everything is ok and will be ok. But obviously, given the circumstances, that is not able to be done and it's eating me alive. I'm really trying, trying just so hard to remind myself that he is okay, and that worrying myself to death about something that I just can't control is pointless. But I can't shake this feeling. I can't shake this terrible feeling that now, I've had to face the fact that my Dad will eventually die. One day. Not any time in the near future (I hope) but eventually. And while that sounds really silly to say out loud because obviously everyone dies, I can't imagine feeling like I did for those few seconds but having that last for a LIFETIME. That darkness, and despair and hole that magically appeared at the mere thought of never being able to see him again. I just, don't ever ever ever want to feel like that again. Ever.

So, I'm slowly picking up the pieces. Trying to get everything right and in order again. But it's hard, really hard. Especially when I'm so far away but, I'll deal with it. Always do.

hello, december.

december,december,december.

the month where all the festivities come out to play, people are (generally) in a good mood (most of the time), there's an abundance of food and drink and family time. warm, delicious and homey smells. cold weather (with no snow!!) and oh my birthday. i've just been struck with possible inspiration for said birthday so, we'll see how that plays out.

i'm trying to stay as stress free as i can, which is unusual during this time of the year for me. i tend to work myself up into such a high-strung stupor over the slightest things, but i made myself a promise that i wouldn't this time.  i'm going mostly diy on the gifts that i'm giving which has proven to be much more help in keeping my anxiety down than what i thought it could. i also think that because i know my mom will be here shortly after the new year for a couple days is keeping my emotions in check much more than last years' were. well, that and the fact that it is my second christmas away from my parents, and i think it's easier just in general. don't get me wrong, i loveloveLOVE my family here more than anything but it just sucks that there has to be an east and a west coast. that's all.

regardless, i've accepted the fact that the holiday's are different now than when i was a kid (for the obvious reasons, and then some) but i can still enjoy it. and look forward to it. plus, after a year of being very adult like, i think everyone deserves some time to act like a kid!

it's been a long day.

Some things never change.

I don't know why I have such a hard time grasping that concept sometimes, I truly don't. It's one of the least complex things in the world yet I fight it, tooth and nail, most of the time. Call it naivety or denial or whatever else but it's just what I do. And of course, this is something I don't realize until AFTER the fact, after everything has been said and done and the dust is beginning to settle - I have the cliched moment of clarity and it hits me like a ton of bricks.

"You've changed"

It's not that I don't know that. I can see it in myself and I swear to god, if one more person says it to me, my head might just spin around Exorcist style and I'll projectile vomit all over the place. It's just the truth. I have. I've acknowledged it, accepted it, even grown to love it like a fabulous pair of Louboutins but sometimes I realize it and I just freak out. More-so when I'm put into situations that I feel completely out of control (or uncomfortable) in and I revert back to the old shell of a person that I once was...or for those following the Louboutin analogy, going from those to a pair of knockoffs from Payless. They may get the job done for the time being, but we all know that they'll fall apart probably sooner rather than later. Plus you'll more than likely end up with blisters / burned feet. And that's exactly what happened.

My Dad's visit. Came and went and...it was, well, enlightening. I freaked out. I felt completely torn and uncomfortable in my own skin and I just, didn't take to it very well. Which then, after 5 days of course blew up like fucking Hiroshima Part 2. Right in my face. Everything was laid out, no card left unturned nor no word left unsaid. This was HUGE.

Skipping the complete and total "Days of Our Lives" melodramatic version (of which, I am absolutely exhausted from talking about) it was just, hard. Quite possibly, the hardest thing that I've ever had to do in my entire life. It was so foreign and uncomfortable for me to be so open with him that I quite literally, was on the verge of spweing up my entire crunchy roll and Sappuro as I was trying to convey to him just exactly how I was feeling and have been feeling for the past 3 years. Then at the same time I was trying to word it in a way as to not completely and totally demolish his feelings because contrary to popular belief, I really don't like doing that. Not on purpose, or to my Dad anyways. But whatever, so I'm there, spilling my heart, soul and tears over my crunchy roll in the middle of a packed restaurant, looking like a complete and total idiot and...in all reality, it gets me no where. I mean, he was listening but, not. When things got too serious, he'd crack a joke. Or he'd deflect and totally change the subject. Like, yeah Dad I'm happy that you're proud of me because I'm proud of me but OPEN YOUR GODDAMN EARS FOR TWO SECONDS AND HEAR ME OUT. But whatever, he knows how I feel toward him, toward CB and the most important being that he knows that his and my relationship is comepletely seperate from his and hers. He may not like it, but that's the way it needs to be for me right now.

Of course afterwards, because the end of our conversation was so memorable and gutting, I reacted like..well, lets just say I could have won an Oscar for my performance. But, it wouldn't have been a performance as it would have been real because trust, it was SO REAL. I could do nothing but cry. Cry, cry, cry, cry, cry. And I did that for about, 3 days straight. After they left the next morning (which, is a whole different story and just, not worth telling other than the fact that I experienced my first earthquake that morning too which by the way is 1. NOT FUN and 2. a sick joke from God) I was BROKEN. Completely and utterly, non-shamelessly broken. Gutted. Everything on this planet. And it went on this way for about a week, all crying and no sleeping. Sucks ass let me tell you.

But, it's done. I'm moving on. Our relationship is not irrecivably broken by any means. The door is there, the door is open. But I need that type of understanding to come from his side. I'm an adult, lets handle this in the adult way. We've passed the point of "I told you so" reasonings and have moved on to bigger and better things, and that's all I want. I want a relationship with him and he knows that. Even more so, I love him and always will. He just needs to get his crap together, that's all.

There were tons of other stories that happened and I just, would rather forget. And I apologized for his trip ending the way that it did because it was not my intention for it to go this way (in fact, wasn't my intention for this to happen at all, but that's another story for a rainy day) but I can't say that I regret that it did. It needed to. 3 years in the making, and there it was. I speak in past tense because it is what it is now, just done and over with. Now can we just move on? I'm still working through the feelings I have but it's just the process. Thank god I have the people I do to keep my head on straight. It's not like I already don't know what they're telling me but it's nice having different perspectives and just, hearing it from someone else that my feelings are valid and that I shouldn't be sorry for expressing them. I'm beginning to accept that changed part of me much easier now, and I like it.