“Now remember with Saturn going retrograde, karma is due.  Old lovers are going to contact you.  It’s resolution time baby!”  I said on Indie Spirit last week…

As these words came tripping out of my mouth days ago, I was thinking, oh Kelly, heed the warning sister…Yesterday I was contacted by a long, lost lover.  He found me on Facebook, of course.  He is far, far away in another country ~ bored in the middle of the night.

This man was not someone I loved, nor was I someone he loved, but we shared a magical escape once a long time ago.  He wanted to know if I still had my tattoo.  He wanted to tell me he has never forgotten my tattoo or me…

We wrote of kids, marriage and laughed about our own adventures.  We chatted up happy lives of here and now.  It was somewhere in the middle of the chat, I felt myself detach – why was this happening?  Ok, Saturn retrograde, yeah, yeah…but what do I need to hear and what could lead me astray?

And he wrote it again, “I just wanted you to know I will never forget you or the adventure…”

I responded with a laughing, “Never ever.”  Just then I realized he was making sure I didn’t ever forget about him.  He needed to be SEEN as that guy from that night.  He needed to be tattooed into this memory.  For it was tattooed onto him.

Now I could be lead astray here, wanting this experience to be more, but it’s not about me.  Yes, it is a compliment to be contacted and remembered, but it really has nothing to do with me. It’s about him.  Just as my reaction years ago was about me…

We were in Ireland celebrating my Mother’s 50^th Birthday with my stepfather, Mom, nine-year-old sister and me.  It was kind of ‘the best of times/worst of times trip.’  For an entire week my mother treated me like I was nine instead of 26.  We could only stop at places in the travel guide Fodor’s.  Needless to say by the last night in Ireland I was ready to cut loose.  My family flew out that day and I was alone for a night…well, not for long.

It was a night to remember.  Completely separate from me and my life in the states.  When I got back to the states I told a friend about my adventure and he reflected back to me, “I think you just needed to prove to yourself you weren’t a child but a woman.”

He was right.  I needed to prove to everyone I was not a little girl!  I laughed immediately and that became my focus of that experience – being in the fullness of womanhood.  Empowered, attractive, fiery, passionate, bold and laughter.  Celtic Brigit energy surely.

Fast forward to now.  This lover of my youth is now a middle-aged man.  Something drives him to connect again to that brash, young man from long ago.  He is compelled to be seen fully as that man from that night.  He needed to know that guy is in there, somewhere.  Only he knows the reasons why and I will not ask.  My life is here.

For my Celtic Brigit energy has only grown wiser.  The Goddess Brigit has three faces – the maiden, the matron and the crone.  I have left the maiden on distant shores years ago.  I am in the matron phase with a beloved husband, beautiful children and a graceful life.  Yet amusingly, I have been gratefully reminded that I am still that lass of yesterday too – empowered, attractive, fiery, passionate, bold and laughing.  Glad some things never change.  Thank you Saturn Retrograde.

Girl’s trip.  This year is was Belize.  No husband, no kids, no work, actual adult “me” time. It’s on these trips that I see myself again. Amusingly, I witness the unique quirks of me over and over without the distraction of kids or a husband…

In my mind’s eye, I am wonderful, flexible traveler. In reality, not so much – sensitive stomach, sleeplessness due to excitement, finicky eater…When I step back and really see it, it’s ridiculous.  The dichotomy of my hopeful mind’s eye (I am a world-class traveler, ready to win the Amazing Race!), and the starch truth of my behavior (porta-potties cause me to wince involuntarily.)  It is absurd.  This flexible person in my mind’s eye, well, she just doesn’t exist in reality. Do we all decide how we should be and quietly berate ourselves for not measuring up? The hum of disapproval vibrating in our minds.

I have discovered I am much happier when I operate in the world from the truth of my behavior. I am not a good traveler for all my so-called good intentions, and now, I travel prepared – stomach cures, sleeping pills and power bars. I am who I am and I will not be entering the Amazing Race, ever.

When I return from my girls’ trips, I feel softened and empowered. I only go now with one other girlfriend because, well, we’re selfish.  My girlfriend and I met in the first few weeks of college. We have always been mistaken for sisters as we look, dress and act similarly even to this day. We are so much alike, yet our life choices have lead us on very different paths. She is in international law and single. I am married, mother of two and working from my home…Yet we are still sisters. 

For about five days each year we live like sisters again…We giggle, gossip, tease, re-tell the same stories over and over again, shop, eat and drink too much, and listen to the new stories each has to tell.  We have tried to include others, but it doesn’t lead to good places.  The only men we talk to are named Hector and carry trays with umbrella drinks.  We have a fantastic time.

Even with our very different lives, we are able to support each other still. She helps me access my identity before the rest of life crowded in. She helps me play and frankly, stay young.

Several years ago she inspired me to get back into a bikini…I had not worn a bikini in maybe 10 years—I was a Mom, that time had past, my body wasn’t perfect. Again, I heard the hum of disapproval vibrating within. But I did it anyway, and you know what, I looked good.

I looked around the beach and everyone was in bikinis, with all their different bodies for the entire world to see. There were no perfect bodies. Even the sixteen year olds had cellulite. I didn’t have to be perfect. Finally, my mind’s eye had softened to embrace reality. The disapproving hum disappeared, only to be replaced by the crashing of waves and laughter of sisters.

It was just before midnight and I was driving home from the airport, alone.  As I pulled onto the deserted highway I looked at my gas gauge, two blocks full.  That’s strange I think, my husband always puts enough gas in the car if I am taking it to the airport.  It’s a brand new car, but he must know and I want to get home.  Five minutes later the low fuel light comes on and now there is half a block glowing on the gas gauge.

What???  First thought, perfect ending to my girls’ trip, are you kidding me?  There are no gas stations anywhere.  I am on a secluded highway with very few exits leading to nowhere.  Yep, raped on the last day of vacation, great.   I call my husband to yell at him, this has got to be someone else’s fault.

Through a confused and heated exchange, my husband guides me through complicated button pushing to discern I have 17 miles of gas left, yet 32 miles to my home.  Houston we have a problem. 

Ok, I’ll get off at the next major highway turn and hope there is a quick gas exit.  I am in the middle of nowhere.  Truckers flying by one after another. 13 miles of gas left, more yelling at my husband.

Finally I see an exit, there’s a Costco, home depot, but no gas station can I see.  Nine miles left, panic rising, I take the exit.

As I drive up to the exit ramp, I am freaking out, and then it hits me, Kelly, what the hell are you doing freaking yourself out?   You know you are divinely held, relax, call for Archangel Michael, relax, and through clenched teeth I say, I am fine.  Fake ‘til you make it is my motto…

Suddenly on the radio I here the words, “Have a little faith in Me,” over and over.  You know that John Hiatt song, which I don’t even like, but over and over I hear, “Have a little faith in me” and I am thinking relax, Kelly, it’s all ok.  Help please.  Where’s the help?

Just then a police car drives up next to me.  Thank you God!  I flag him down and we pull to the side of the road.  He comes over to tell me directions and although normally he would lead me there, he can’t just now as he has a prisoner with him…do you hear the chuckling God?

I have eight miles of gas left, the officer believes I should make it but he will have another squad car run the route just in case.  Great.

He walks back to his car and I think sarcastically, I love directions, I get lost in a paper sack.  Fan-friggin-tastic.  Pull it together Kelly, you’re held, remember you’re held.  I hear the music then, Latin music coming from the radio.  How did that happen?  I never touched the station.  And suddenly I’m laughing again; the Latin music is about the future.  Smiling, I feel comforted and drive on; it’s got to be just ahead.

Four miles later, on the right, just as he said, there was the gas station.  A SHELL station, I laugh again, I had been thinking about shells all day.  On the beach that morning, as I packed my bag, and most importantly as I dreamed of the future…another reminder.

I filled up with gas and got back onto the road.  I felt myself begin to panic with the ‘what if’s’ of worst-case scenario thinking – what could have happened.  Kelly, relax.  I laughed again and I was grateful.  These past twenty minutes have foreshadowed the future.  Yes, at times I will feel lost.  Worried I will run out of gas…but I have faith.  All matter of things will be well, I just have to remember I am divinely held and look for the help when I need it.  So be it!

Dearest all, I am off to paradise with bikinis and good books.  Chat in a week!

Just got back from the gorgeous and magical Costa Rica and here’s what I read in order…

 Knit Two by Kate Jacobs.  The story continues the story of her original The Friday Night Knitting Club, both are delightful.  Tears and laughs along with the sticky hierarchy of female relationships…

 American Gods by Neil Gaiman.  Excellent.  Fascinating characters amid a stark view of what we today anoint as Gods…Love everything he writes. 

 Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress by Dai Sijie.  Alright I know why this book received critical acclaim (slice of different world, some haunting scenes…) but skip it.  The plot is disappointing and the characters really don’t attached themselves to your heart.  It’s a bit cold, everything is from a distance…

                                                                                                              Shadow of Power by Steve Martini.  Liked the courtroom dialog, kind of hated the race plot.  The whole slave/constitution thing just doesn’t have the same impact on a woman as a man…Where were women’s rights in the constitution?  Missing as well.  There is a lot of offense to go around…Read Skin Tight instead…

 Skin Tight by Carl Hiaasen.  Murder and laughs – perfecto!  Any Hiaasen book on vacation is fun and will keep you up much later then you intend, just another chapter…It is a riot – the one-armed-weed-wacking thug with a white-out chin…I’m still giggling.

 Promise Me by Harlan Coben.  Fun.  Quick-paced, same amusing characters.  I want a friend like Win…

 And yes, I enjoyed many other fun adventures on the vacation besides reading, that I will share with you in the coming weeks…Just wanted to help out with any last-minute holiday gift ideas…Happy reading!

We are off to the hot sunshine.  Peace be with you.

Why is the line so thin sometimes?  It all came down to the tooth fairy.  My son is six years old and lost his first tooth this past summer.  Let me tell you we were awaiting this event with much anticipation as his older sister lost her first tooth at four years old and has yet to stop. 

 It happened in the morning – lost the tooth during breakfast.  With big cheers all around, we discussed where to put it in his room (his tooth fairy pillow) and not to worry.  The sitter that night would help him with his note to the tooth fairy…

 …I woke up the next morning to the sounds of a wailing child.  Running into his room and I cry panicked, “What’s wrong?”

 Tears streaming down his face, he croaks with a cracked voice, “The tooth fairy doesn’t like me – look.”  And there is was, the tooth still sat in its pocket and no money.  The horror!  We had forgotten – bad Mommy, bad Mommy.

 Without missing a beat I reply, “Didn’t Caitlin tell you?  The tooth fairy called last night to let us know she might not be able to make it here as she was stuck down in Africa with a family of naked mole rats.  You know they only have two teeth, so missing a tooth is pretty serious business down there.”  (Notice – blame the sitter was my first avenue…)

 Tears stop.  With a sniff and a rubbing of the eyes, he says with hope restored, “Really?”

 “Really.  I thought Caitlin let you know.  (Again blame the sitter – who we love mind you.)  Not to worry – everything will work out.  How about donuts for breakfast?” I smile feeling all of 3 feet tall.

 The next morning my son ran into our room with a glowing smile and dollar in each hand.  “Look Mommy, I got two dollars and I bet I know why.  I was patient and believed it was all going to work out!  And look it did.  It’s good to be patient.” 

 I kid you not – that is what he said.  How quickly the line tilts toward genius as he has learned about patience and delayed gratification.  Good mommy, good Mommy. 

 While on vacation later in the summer my daughter lost another tooth and again the tooth fairy got stuck somewhere (north pole – with the polar bears) missing the first day after.  And again all was right the next day. 

 Amusingly I know these stories have another life – after the identity of the tooth is revealed, in a few years.  Many, many years from now I expect to get phone calls from my grandkids telling me the tooth fairy would be coming the next day as she got stuck in India with the Bengal Tigers or in Australia with the kangaroo family and I will remind her gentle, not to worry.  It will all work out.  Did you go for donuts?

Recently I was on vacation in Martha’s Vineyard and noticed lots of people wearing “Black Dog” apparel.  The Black Dog is a local business established in 1971 (I know this because I too now have a t-shirt with this information…) that has become quite popular on the island.  Quickly I realized is this is part of the “vineyard uniform” – daily wear for everyone. 

 And it hit me – every destination vacation has it’s own uniform…Hawaii, yupe, all the tourists wear Hawaiian shirts, skirts and dresses; in Disney – buttons, clothing of all sorts, hats…In Caribbean – braids, they only look good on 10% of the population but about 90% of woman give this a try…Boots/hats in Texas…In Ireland, throw me a wool sweater and some plaid…etc, etc…and the worst part is – I’m guilty of most these fashion blunders myself (thank God not the braids though.)  I suffer from the old motto, “When in Rome…” 

 A friend that I travel with believes this is a display of each person’s desire to bring vacation home, hence you buy the same crap.  I agree but I also think it’s about sharing the experience.  The uniform, however silly, makes vacation feel even further away from your reality left at home.  Not many of us can imagine wearing Caribbean braids to a sales meeting with the boss or how about a sarong?  However on vacation – anything goes…

  Hence you can find me buying Hawaiian music on Maui dressed in a bikini/sarong or t-shirts in the Black Dog Café for everyone in my family.  When in Rome, baby…

While returning from vacation on Wednesday, I kept thinking about Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz clicking her heels to go home.  I think I even clicked mine a few times – just in case.  Why?  Well, I’m afraid of heights – flying is really not something I look forward to and unfortunately I discovered I was flying co-pilot back to the mainland in a tinny, tiny plane…Holy crap!

 I had just spent five glorious days in Martha’s Vineyard with my college friend and we were sitting outside the adorable airport waiting for my flight.  I say “adorable” because the airport at Martha’s Vineyard appears like the quintessential New England beach house welcoming travelers, no ugly concrete or steel hurting your eyes here.  Baggage claim is a couple guys lifting a small, glass garage door and placing your luggage on an inverted shelf for you to pick up five minutes after your plane lands…Not exactly LaGuardia.

 So there we are looking out on the small airfield and my amused friend says eyeing me, “Hey, those are pretty small planes out there – I bet you’re on one.”   Quickly my eyes dart from plane to plane looking for my airline, Cape Air. 

 At that very moment, I vaguely recall some folks joking with us earlier on the trip about flying back to the mainland on “Cape Fear.”  I had a flash of moments before when I was checking in at the ticket counter – they had needed to know my weight and weighted all my carry-on bags – even my purse…Holy crap, the innuendo at the bar was now becoming all too clear as I saw the plane with “Cape Air” on the tail.  There were only five windows down the side of the plane.  Mother of God I think it only sat 10 people in all.  I started sweating at that moment. 

 Fifteen minutes later I was standing on the tarmac next to the man who was giving us our seat assignments.  He looks directly at me and said, “Co-pilot.”  What?  Is that legal?  Freaking co-pilot!  All I can think of is my husband…He has a burning desire to fly planes yet here I am being assigned co-pilot.  God certainly has a sense of humor…

 Within moments I am in the co-pilot’s seat, nervously giggling to the pilot, “I am not taking over mid-flight.  I’m sure you’ve flown a million times…Right?”  Needless to say, I am screwed.  I wrapped my arms around me lest I grab the controls by mistake or touch one of the many buttons, gadgets in front of me – just because. 

 The take off was ok.  I did not like being in this tiny plane flying over the sea.  It’s already little bouncy in a small plane, so it is not a far stretch to imagine yourself tumbling down from the sky…I kept thinking Angelina Jolie is an idiot – who the hell would choose to do this for an afternoon of pleasure?   I watched the flight time tick by on the control board’s clock and pretended to enjoy the scenery from my flying coffin.   

 Praying really began on the descent.  I tried hard to block visions of a fiery grand finale to our flight by incessantly praying the “Our Father” during touchdown.  Actually, it was the smoothest landing I have ever experienced. 

 On one of my next flights that day I sat next to a man had who climbed Mt. Everest a few years ago.  I exclaimed that was not for me as I am afraid of heights (besides the fact I don’t like the cold, sleeping in a tent for days on end, eating crappy food, risking my life to reach any summit…)  He informed me he was also afraid of heights – he did it to face his fears.

 I smiled and thought, “Been there, done that earlier today and I didn’t have to go across the globe.”  And then I thought, “But am I better for it?” 

 Immediately in my mind I heard a resounding, “Yes!” and of course, a chuckling God too.  I had been to the summit and successfully reached the other side – anxiety and all.  Some lessons come to you, instead you going to the mountain.

I leave tomorrow for my annual girl’s trip.  This year we are headed to Martha’s Vineyard.  No husband, no kids, no work, actual adult “me” time. Often, I’ve discovered during these annual trips, I see myself again. Amusingly, I witness the unique quirks of me over and over without the distraction of kids or a husband…

In my mind’s eye, I am wonderful, flexible traveler. In reality, not so much – sensitive stomach, sleeplessness due to excitement, finicky eater…When I step back and really see it, it’s ridiculous.

The dichotomy of my hopeful mind’s eye (I am a world-class traveler, ready to win the Amazing Race!), and the starch truth of my behavior (porta-potties cause me to wince involuntarily) – it is absurd.  This flexible person in my mind’s eye, well, she just doesn’t exist in reality. Do we all decide how we should be and quietly berate ourselves for not measuring up? The hum of disapproval vibrating in our minds.

I have discovered I am much happier when I operate in the world from the truth of my behavior. I am not a good traveler for all my so called good intentions, and now, I travel prepared – stomach cures, sleeping pills and power bars. I am who I am and I will not be entering the Amazing Race, ever.

When I return from these girls’ trips, I feel softened and empowered. I only go now with one other girlfriend because, well, we’re selfish.  My girlfriend and I met in the first few weeks of college. We have always been mistaken for sisters as we look, dress and act similarly even to this day. We are so much alike, yet our life choices have lead us on very different paths. She is in international law and single. I am married, mother of two and working from my home…Yet we are still sisters. 

For about five days each year we live like sisters again…We giggle, gossip, tease, re-tell the same stories over and over again, shop, eat and drink too much, and listen to the new stories each has to tell.  We have tried to include others, but it doesn’t lead to good places.  The only men we talk to are named Hector and carry trays with umbrella drinks.  We have a fantastic time.

Even with our very different lives, we are able to support each other still. She helps me access my identity before the rest of life crowded in. She helps me play and frankly, stay young.

Several years ago she inspired me to get back into a bikini…I had not worn a bikini in maybe 10 years—I was a Mom, that time had past, my body wasn’t perfect. Again, I heard the hum of disapproval vibrating within. But I did it anyway, and you know what, I looked good.

I looked around the beach and everyone was in bikinis, with all their different bodies for the entire world to see. There were no perfect bodies. Even the sixteen year olds had cellulite. I didn’t have to be perfect. Finally, my mind’s eye had softened to embrace reality. The disapproving hum disappeared, only to be replaced by the crashing of waves and laughter of sisters.