Saturday, August 25, 2007

Love song for my angel, sweet HOLLY

"I drink good coffee every morning, comes from a place that's far away...and when I'm done, I feel like talking. Without you here, there is less to say." ~Colin Hay (Garden State 'Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You')

Yesterday, August 24th at 12:30 pm, I put my sweet angel, Holly to sleep after 15 precious years together (She was 16 1/2 years old). After my two weeks in Paris, I returned to find that the same cancer that took her leg almost two years ago had now manifest as a tumor in her tummy.

I am (and always will be) eternally grateful to Holly for breaking my heart wide open in love. It was from her, as a small child at 8 years old, that I first learned Unconditional LOVE....that I first wondered about soul mates (and if they could possibly ever manifest as a furry little kitty with white paws and a persistent meow).

She followed me everywhere. Even when she was outside...she'd track me through the windows from room to room. When I was a child, she used to follow me 3 blocks down to my friends house and wait for me on the corner until it was time for me to walk back home. If we were out late at night, she parked herself on the peak of the roof looking over the driveway... waiting for first glimpse of our car.

She was my steady ship, my trusty sense of family when the foundations seemed to be crumbling around me.

In college, she "talked" to me over the phone (and rubbed her head against the receiver, as reported by my mother).

She taught me responsibility.
She taught me compassion.
She was pure and forgiving, beautiful and endless.

When I had pneumonia this winter, she lay on my chest all day and all night.
When she had cancer, I kissed her belly and the bottoms of her paws.
She slept on the foot of my bed. We fell asleep in the sun out in the rocking chairs on the porch. We watched movies together...napped together... We drove around together and shared filet mignon and chicken and tuna sandwhiches at the table overlooking the ocean. We played hide-and-seek: under the barbecue, under the bridge, in my closet. We did tarot readings together (hers, always the more enlightened and promising of the two of us)

We spent the entire summer together.
I am grateful for our time together and for her love.
She has always been there.
But I am a gaping hole... an 8 year-old-child suddenly without her best friend. My eyes still automatically scan for her every time I come home...mistaking a small pile of leaves under the table for her curled up sleeping form, a waving plant for a twitching tail. It's like I can't go to sleep until I hear the 'pop' of the wet-food can every night.
I'm afraid to forget the sound of her meow as she answered my questions... how she loved to smell flowers...the way she snored in her new bed so loud we couldn't hear the televeision half the time...
The way she trustingly relaxed in my arms and over my shoulders... the security in her hugs. The heat of her soft body in my lap. The roll of her purr against my hands as she rested her head for a nap. The way her coat smelled like fresh-cut grass.

Thank you... all those who knew and loved her. To those who cared for her (especially when things got messy at the end). Those who have sent kind words and hugs. Thank you to all those laps I have poured my tears into these past 36 hours. And all those I will pour into in the near future. My only hope is to embody HALF the joy, unconditional Love, and radiance in my lifetime that this precious cat inspired in hers. I miss you Holly bear. You are my sunshine.

Friday, August 17, 2007

for Dad's trigger finger... (even in Paris)

Ok... so I've been in Paris since early August with my sister visiting my Dad and his girlfriend, who moved here for the summer (hence the absence of posts for a while!). I'll be home next week, but in the meantime wanted to whet your appetite with some terribly candid pictures shot by my father since we've been here... it's hard to tell but they're: at the Moulin Rouge, on a dinner cruise on the Seine, at the Eiffel Tower, walking around Paris,outside the flat in St. Germain, etc. I'm just grateful someone's documenting the trip at all!

Saturday, August 4, 2007


Today is my mom's birthday!

Isn't she BEAUUUUUU-tiful??

Wednesday, August 1, 2007



I am grateful for gelato ice cream! (Even though I haven't had any yet this summer... I drive by my favorite locale often and look forward to the creamy chocolatey, coconut cup of bliss I will enjoy when my Irish friends from Boston come to experience the REAL O.C. in just a couple weeks).

More to edit on gelato tomorrow... but for now I must be grateful for a peaceful nights sleep and an early morning walk tomorrow :)

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

for Ayo


I am grateful for my dear friend Ayo. (That's her with a monkey plate at my 90's birthday party last year... right before she went to town on the build-your-own ice-cream sundae buffet).

Today I am celebrating Ayo's day of birth, even though she's in Boston and I am 3,000 miles away. Sad face. Very sad face. Because she is more than just a myspace icon on my buddy list. She's more than just a mispelled name in my cellphone or a framed photo on my desk or someone I forward all my chain-letter emails to.

We met Berklee College of Music together. We survived RA-dom together. We lived through rain, hail, sleet, snow, blizzards, and 90 mph winds ALL at the same time, together. We got into relationships and out of relationships together (then into them and out of them again). We ate pastries from Boston's north end for breakfast, splurged at Trident together when no one else would go... saw the RedSox play at Fenway park...danced in the middle of a busy intersection to Michael Jackson. We had tea together at our apartment, a thousand times. Pumpkin Pancakes at Pour House, a thousand times. Waited up for each other so we could talk about family and relationships and how that lame harmony project came out, a thousand times. Cooked chicken and veggies with jerk sauce, a thousand times. Ate crappy thai food together, a thousand times. Meditated on the roofdeck... worked out at the Racketclub gym. Played guitar and wrote heartfelt boys-suck songs together.

But mostly, we opened up together. We GREW up together. We made it happen together... in that city together... in our separate lives, together. To the point where it didn't even feel like "together" anymore... it just was.

Today, living in California, 3,000 miles away from Boston... I am thankful for Ayo entering this world. I am thankful for all my precious friends in Boston who made those 36 plane trips worth every penny and every gray hair. I am eternally grateful for all my childhood and high school friends who gave me such a strong foundation to step out on my own to begin with. And especially to everyone in my family... my bonus friends. Who's love always has and always will, make me whole.

Monday, July 30, 2007

3 Words


(again, not my image...mine would have been, well... a bit more naked. But I got a new camera today! which I am also thankful for. So hopefully my own images will be popping up in the next week or so).

Enjoying the fullness of the moon, my body, and life on Earth at a time when we are more free to be educated, elevated, and expressed than ever before in the history of humanity.

Sunday, July 29, 2007


"Tears are the safety valve of the heart when too much pressure is laid on it." ~Albert Smith


"I like the snot to run a little, the tears to accumulate a bit before reaching for the handkerchief. Then I know I'm really crying. Crying just isn't crying unless it's messy." ~D.H. Mondfleur

I am thankful for tears.
Most notably, MY tears.
I try to make it a point to cry at least every other day.
As nana always said, "Better out than than in."
But this summer, meeting that goal has been surprisingly harder than usual.

I'm typically not a picky crier.

Crying for any reason is generally fine.

There are the fool-proof fall-backs of course: heartbreak, my parents divorce, rejection, lonliness, self-loathing, and self-pity. Then there are the unexpected public instigators: long lines at the gas station, no parking places at the book store, an elderly couple tieing each other's shoes at the beach, The Fray comes on the radio, a humingbird hovers within inches of your face while you lay on the hammock... you accidently wash your favorite new shirt that clearly stated: DRY CLEAN ONLY.
And lastly (though certainly no less legitimate), the all mighty, I'm-crying-and-I'm-crying-TONIGHT-god-damnit: anything to start the flood... light candles, play that trusty Sarah McLaughlin song over and over and over and over again... then play it again, only this time in the DARK. Look through old photos, read dusty journals, look him up on myspace. Drink red wine. Watch The Notebook.

Today's tears can be most closely characterized as a Class Two Tear Torrent. Somehow, I don't really think that going to see Pixar's animated, Ratatouille, quite qualifies as a self-loathing or optimistic flood inducing move.
I was just looking for a good time on a Sunday afternoon. Minding my own business. On my way to see a cute flick about a precious mouse with a passion for the culinary arts.


Turns out, what you get is an adorable rat who could turn even Hitler into a puddle with his big, expressive eyes... who gets separated from his family and subsequently battles monstruous adversity, trapped between two worlds, neither of which he belongs in... needless to say, Pixar had me by the hankie at "hello".

But really. Ratatouille. Great movie. Not a tear-jerker at all I'm sorry to say. I just happen to be an incredibly suppressed, emotional wreck at the moment.
But hey, better out than in, right?