Dissident Daughters Invites You to Share

Dear Readers...one of the (many) reasons we started our Dissident Daughters blog was to dialogue and connect with people...whether s/he agree with us on specific topics or not. To this end, we are inviting any and all of you to guest post at some point in our blog cycle. We ask that you contact us via our personal facebook pages (message us), text us if you have our numbers or comment on a post.

We would love to hear your personal post ideas and determine when the stars align for you to guest post. For as was so eloquently stated by St. Thomas Aquinas, "Just as it is better to illuminate than merely to shine, so to pass on what one has contemplated is better than to merely contemplate". Please use our forum to pass on your contemplations and let us begin to dialogue with one another.

Monday Metaphors

I just painted over the last of the green trim in my apartment. It took me exactly 3 years to get to this point.

I moved into my current apartment in August of 2012. I had just finished grad school in Nashville, Tennessee, and I was moving to Des Moines to start a chaplain residency position at Methodist Hospital.

To be honest, I was personally a complete and utter wreck when I first moved into my apartment in August 2012. I don’t want to go into too much backstory, but suffice to say, I was literally at the lowest point of my life thus far that particular August. In the past 6 months, I had “lost” nearly every dream and piece of my identity that I valued. I was drowning in grief and loss, and I couldn’t figure out how to come up for air. I…felt shattered. It may seem melodramatic without context, but I had honestly endured more in that 6 months than I had the rest of my accumulated 26 years. I was so broken, with no dreams or self-worth to help me stay afloat.

Because of that broken state, I moved from Tennessee to Des Moines without a place to live. I literally just packed up everything I owned into a Penske truck, and I drove to Des Moines without any idea where I was going to live. And oh yeah- I was scheduled to start a new job in less than a week.

I did have the wherewithal to know that homelessness was not ideal, so I started searching for a place once I arrived in Des Moines. I viewed one duplex that was within walking distance of Methodist hospital (my new future employer). On paper, it seemed like it was a place that I would like, but something just didn’t feel right to me. My potential landlord drew up a lease for me, but I hesitated to sign it. I didn’t understand why, so I started playing around on Craig’s List as I processed my reticence.

While I pissed around on Craig’s List, I stumbled across a listing that I hadn’t noticed before. I almost gasped when I saw it- it just seemed perfect. It was near a university. The price was very affordable. It had a fireplace. It was a duplex. It had both a front and a back porch. And it had a basement! I called the number listed, and the landlord offered to show it to me that afternoon.

UGLY UGLY GREEN TRIM. GOODBYE.

I walked into the apartment, and within two steps, I just knew that the place was home. I felt the first flicker of excitement that I had experienced in months. I told the landlord I wanted it before we even saw the whole apartment! I think he was rather surprised by my exuberance, but he agreed to rent it to me. And the best part- I could move in immediately. So I wouldn’t have to live in my Penske truck. J

Now, I know that I have painted a rather fairy tale portrait of my apartment thus far. Part of that is because I’m looking at it through rose-colored hindsight glasses. However, I do realize that my apartment definitely wasn’t….problem free. First, the interior was incredibly ugly. There was hunter.green.trim. everywhere. Seriously, the ugliest trim color I have ever seen.  The walls were a faded white. I had no furniture, except for a cheap Wal-Mart couch that I “lovingly” referred to as a ‘car seat futon’ (because it was such a piece of crap that it more closely resembled a removable car seat from a van than a couch.) My TV was an old tube TV that my family had gotten when I was in elementary school. I honestly didn’t even know how to use it- I just kind of kept moving it around thinking I would eventually use a TV. I did have bedroom furniture, although it was secondhand furniture that could really use more nails to keep it together.

It’s been quite the process to make some changes. First of all, my landlord refused to let me paint when I first moved. I think he was fearful that I was going to leave after a year, and then he would have to re-paint everything for a new tenant. Additionally, despite having my Master’s degree, I was basically paid pennies for my chaplain residency. So I didn’t have the financial resources to make many changes. In fact, I was donating plasma twice a week just to ensure that I was able to pay my bills and eat.

AFTER! Crisp white trim with an accent wall

But slowly, my apartment has evolved over the past 3 years. I found an amazing couch and chair set at Nebraska Furniture Mart that my friends have deemed some of the “comfiest furniture ever.”  J I have discovered some cool secondhand stuff at Goodwill/Craig’s List that I’ve spent time DIY-ing and fixing up. I bought my FIRST ever TV. And I finally, finally, convinced my landlord after 2 years that I was trustworthy enough to paint my apartment. And so I’ve spent the last year finding time to paint my apartment. I painted my dining room, living room, and kitchen last summer. I painted my bedroom this past winter. And I just completed my bathroom this August.

And it’s amazed me how the correlation between my apartment’s evolution has mirrored my own personal evolution. It’s one of those correlations where it’s hard to articulate how one affects the other because they become so intertwined.  I graduated chaplain residency after 1.5 years, and I found an amazing job as bereavement coordinator for hospice. I am just about to start teaching my second course for Simpson College- a course I created. I just had a great summer with friends and family- I officiated my sister’s wedding in the Virgin Islands, I officiated my best friend’s wedding in South Dakota, I went to two bachelorette parties, and I spent time at a friend’s cabin by the lake. And… I’ve gained enough physical strength that I’m able to climb up 20 feet of silks.

This is usually the part of the blog post where I draw everything together, and I write some of my own conclusions. But I’m not going to do that here for a couple of reasons. First, I could pontificate for HOURS about the meanings and reflections I’ve had from the past 3 years.  Reflections on creation, God’s grace, intuition, and patience- I could go on for quite awhile. Second, I want to leave this post primarily as metaphor and let readers draw their own conclusions and meaning.

So I’ll close with this. I just finished painting the last of the ugly ass green trim in my apartment. The last of it was in my bathroom, and I just finished painting over it this August. The green trim is still there underneath the 6 coats of white glossy paint. It will always be there, but it no longer shines through.

My apartment isn’t finished. Not by a long shot. I still have plans and ideas for projects that I would love to do.

But the green trim is gone.

Happy

 

Hello, friends! Just a quick blog from yours truly this week. It’s been over three months since Larry and I were married in beautiful St. John. We’ve had a busy summer and have just started reuniting with people whom we haven’t seen since our wedding celebrations. It’s been nice meeting back up with folks, reminiscing, saying ‘thank you’ again in person, etc but that’s not the point of this post. The point of this post is to talk about the question I’ve been getting the most lately (almost as much as the obligatory “how are you?”) That is:

“How’s married life treating you?”

I struggle with answering this question.

First of all, neither Larry nor I are overly emotional, excitable people. For the most part, we are pretty private. There are many aspects of our relationship that we both believe are just between us. We’ll hold hands in public and show other displays of affection but we aren’t that couple that is going to be shown on the kiss cam or the couple that is going to be shouting our love from the mountain tops. It’s just in neither of our personalities. So when people ask me this question, I FEEL like I should be effusing about everything that’s great about being married but that’s just not me.

Second, not a lot has changed. Larry and I lived together BEFORE we were married and had a house together before we were married so it’s not like we are adjusting to living with each other and his/her routines, habits, etc. We were already used to the chores that somehow became our respective chores and we had already adjusted to each other’s timelines, quirks, annoyances, pet peeves, messes…you get the point…that sometimes you can only learn by living with another person. Further, minus the rehearsal dinner, we paid for the entire wedding by ourselves so we had already adjusted to a lot of the first financial challenges and discussions surrounding those challenges that many couples may not have to deal with until after the wedding.

So to most people I have been simply responding with “It’s good. Not a lot has changed but it’s good.” I kind of feel like this is a piss poor answer. Even though most people who know me realize I’m not the type to gush, I still feel like I’m not telling the truth. Because the truth is, after reflecting upon this question, I have realized that something actually HAS changed. I realized this after talking to my girlfriend Naomi recently and telling her that lately I just want to be at home. I love my job and all my other extracurricular activities but most nights I just want to rush to get home to Larry and our puppy Daphne. I had this feeling of just wanting to be home before the wedding (it’s not like I avoided being home) but it’s even more intense now that we are married and have our own little family with Daphne. For the first time ever over a drill weekend, I was truly a bit homesick whereas in the past, I would have just been so concentrated on working over the drill. So why is this? I guess I don’t know. I think it’s partly because as I stated above, we have our own little small family with Daphne so I not only want to be home with Larry but I also want to be home to care for and spend time with Daphne. But I also think it’s because now that all the planning and rushing and events related to planning not just a wedding but a marriage are over, we finally have time to just relax, be, and enjoy our time together. For me, I think I am just really content right now. And maybe I don’t need to explain why or try to understand “why is this?” Maybe I just need to be content with being happy and start telling people the truth: married life is happy…no gushing or effusing required.

 

A Fraud Like Me

Well, I'm writing this in balmy Fort Polk Louisiana.  I have been here for almost two weeks. I traveled here on an overnight bus ride sitting next to the crapper for 16 hours as I was the last person to board the bus and it was the only seat left.  The emergency exit on the bus kept popping open during the journey so it was eventually secured with duct tape which held for a good 30 minutes.  It has reached 108 degrees at times. I sleep in a bunk bed and our room has a distinguished visitor of the rodent kind that occasionally makes an appearance.  Normally, two weeks of duty doesn't bother me. Piece of cake I usually tell myself. Sometimes, I tell people, "Hell, I can do ANYTHING for 14 measly days." Other times I joke, "At least it ain't Afghanistan." Great sound bites for a fraud like me. 

The reality is though...it ain't easy. All joking aside I'm absolutely questioning myself and my choices. My husband was gone for three weeks of miltary schooling before I left. I left the day he returned and we didn't see eachother as I had to leave in the morning and he returned in the afternoon. My kids have had one parent since July 8 and I feel like a total failure to them.  My feelings are a patchwork of guilt, worry and anxiety. I've grown to call this melencholy state of mind my mini-depression.  A war wages within disrupting my thoughts. 

Am I screwing my kids up? What the hell am I doing? Are my kids going to be irreparably harmed by the military? Or, am I showing them a good example of a strong woman? Am I modeling responsible behavior? Am I a role model? Or is that just window dressing I hide behind to make myself feel better? Is strength having the courage to stay home instead of doing this? Is strength listening to that quiet voice that questions if my kids deserve more of me? You see, I'm proud of what I have done and who I am and what John and i have built together. But it's a bit uncommon and somewhat outside what is considered normal. Or is that just in my head, too? I don't know, I guess. But I worry. Will my son never get married because he has this asshole of a mom as a female role model? Will my daughter suffer like I have if she turns out like me? Do I want either of my kids to turn out like me? Deep down the answer that I unequivocally know to be true, is that no, I don't. I don't like myself that much to be honest. Not today at least I don't and maybe most days. The choices I've made, I've made them so my kids don't have to go through what I have,  but have I done the right thing? Have i passed these crippling and ridiculous thought processes on to my kids? Would they, could they, be better off, more normalized, if they didn't have a mother like me? Did they inherit this stupidity I've steeped myself in?  Sitting here in the doldrums of Fort Polk Louisiana my mind is a battlefield with no clear victory in sight.

But I make a decision. The outcome of this battle, and ultimately, the war is within my control. It is up to me to once again be strong...what that looks like for me and not anyone else, even if it is just fraudulent strong. I decide, right now, that these thoughts and war games I'm playing in my head are ridiculous and counter-productive. It's how I've survived this long and I once again take control. As I do this, a clear victor begins to emerge. The girl who remembers all she has to do is just the next right thing takes over and puts one foot in front the other. Two more days and a wake up, she murmers. And with that, the battle is over.  The war, however, will live to fight another day.  It always does. Love you kids. Someday, maybe it will make sense.

Four Straight Years of RAGBRAI

Hi Everyone! Dissident daughter Anne writing. We wanted to do something special this week. Remember Amy's post on Monday about riding RAGBRAI? Well, our own father actually rode in RAGBRAI this year as well! I'm really proud of him- our dad is in his 60's, and this is the 4th year in a row that he has ridden all of RAGBRAI. We wanted to ask him to write a guest post to fit with our RAGBRAI theme this week. He will actually be the first male posting on our blog, as well as our 3rd guest poster ever since we launched the blog.

Now, I do have to add one more detail. Our dad wrote the highlights of his trip, but he failed to mention the day that he didn't drink any water ALL DAY in 100 degree temperatures while riding a ridiculous number of miles. All of us daughters about had a heart attack when we heard that he did that, so you can bet that we gave him a strongly worded lecture. That stupidity- to not drink water while exercising in the heat- is what our family calls a "BBTD move." (It stands for "Big Baller Turned Douche.") It's when someone starts something feeling cocky, and it comes around and bites him or her in the ass. Other than that debacle, I think my dad had a pretty good RAGBRAI trip. :-)

Tom Alesch
Let me begin by saying that I am very privileged and so honored to write on my daughters' blog. I don't consider myself to be in their league of writing, but I will do my best to live up to not only their expectations, but also their readers' expectations. I am very proud of each and every one of them.
Here are my thoughts and my experiences on that bicycle ride across Iowa.

This was my fourth complete RAGBRAI, so I am not a stranger to it, but I learn something from it each time I ride in it. RAGBRAI begins for me in January as the Register makes a big "to do" about the naming of the overnight towns that we will be staying in. One can get an idea of the route that e will be taking in July at this January exposition. As soon as the snow melts and temperatures warm I begin practicing for the bike ride. Not so much as being able to peddle, but to get my butt used to the long hours spent in the saddle. Ask any biker, and they will tell you that the long hours they spend practicing is to get their butt in shape.

RAGBRAI, or any bike ride, for me has always been about the ride and the challenge of the ride. I love to bike on trails and be out in the countryside. Biking is therapeutic to me as I believe any physical activity should be. There is no other way to see the beautiful countryside than on a bike. I love the landscape especially when everything is lush and green. I love the smells of Iowa be it the fragrant or the not so fragrant. I was born and raised in the country so all the smells are good. Iowa is a beautiful state and we take this state for granted. I supposed one could say that the "for grantedness" is taken wherever anyone lives. 

The secondary part of RAGBRAI are the people that you encounter along the ride. I will mention bu four of them. I was especially thankful for Kirk from Oklahoma City this year as he latched onto me for some unknown reason and helped me get through the century ride. He must have thought that I was hurting, and I was, as I tweaked something around my knee on the first day from Sioux City to Storm Lake. Not only did he provide me with companionship, but he also provided me with ibuprofen to alleviate the pain I was having each time I pushed down my right foot. He rode with me for 30 miles until we arrived into the overnight town. He was just awesome to have with me that day. 

I also make a habit of stopping at the same vendors throughout the ride and two of them set up side by side. One is Fair Shot Coffee, and the other is K & K Bagels and Muffins. I have a cup of coffee and a bagel. One morning a Philadelphian stopped and we chatted. He proceeded to tell me about his grandmother who fled Nazi Germany and came to Creston, Iowa and married a farmer there. Her husband was kicked in the head by a horse and died, and she consequently moved back to Philadelphia to be with her sister. He said that is why he is a Pennsylvanian and not an Iowan. 

I also met a writer from Missoula, Montana while riding one day. We chatted for awhile because I had gone to college at the University of Montana for two years, and I had just read Krakauer's book "Missoula" which is about the college rapes in that college town.

The last person that I will write about is Suzanne. I lost my phone at a conservation place which gave out free bananas and free postcards. I took my phone out to get an address and left it lying on the table. When I got to the next town I noticed that it was missing. To make a long story short, I dialed my number, and a guy answered from the conservation place. I asked if he had my phone, and he said that he did have my phone after I left it there. I asked him if there were any riders there, and he proceeded to give the phone to Suzanne and we made arrangements that she would bring my phone to Coralville. At no time was I worried about getting my phone back. RAGBRAI people are good and honest. Suzanne and I met up at the aquatic center in Coralville and she gave me my phone. A really feel good moment.

RAGBRAI takes its told on my old body, and the Monday after RAGBRAI I was exhausted and spent a lot of time lying in bed and sleeping. However, I remember waking before evening and wondering if it was January yet. BBTD.

How to Win RAGBRAI

I'm pretty sure I won RAGBRAI this year...or the RAGBRAI had its way with me...one or the other. In all honesty, it was both. I rode RAGBRAI for the first time this year with Team Silverstreak. This was one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life (those of you who know me know that I have a propensity for exaggerated statements...this is NOT one of them). I had so much fun in this one week and met so many amazing people...there is nothing like it. Frequently during the ride, we would all joke that we were "winning" RAGBRAI or that we were third or fifth place. My friend and teammate, Chris, an experienced RAGBRAI-er, joked that we should all write a tongue in cheek book entitled How to Win RAGBRAI...filled with advice and hilarity. He kindly let me use his title for my blog (I truly hope he writes the book). So during my week of riding and drinking and camping and dancing, I picked up a few things that I think can help anyone "win" RAGBRAI.

1) Sometimes you eat the pork

I'm a vegetarian slowly exploring a reintroduction to the meat world. Prior to RAGBRAI, I had added fish and bison into my diet. I was adamant that pork would likely be a meat I would never eat again (what? never say never?). Fast forward to the first day of RAGBRAI...starting in Sioux City, we biked a whole six miles to Leeds where we spent an extremely inordinate amount of time at the bar for riding only six miles (why not?). Heading out of Leeds, looming ahead is (unbeknownst to us) the bike tire killing fields. I ride over the ridiculous set of train tracks and get a flat tire (yes, six miles into RAGBRAI). I am soon joined by at least five other riders with flats (not an exaggeration!). My teammate, Jeff, and I stop to fix the flat (with the help of a little Ten High whiskey) and that is how the day started. So, by the time we got to Quimby, we had ridden a lot, drank a lot and eaten little. Enter the pork sandwich. Jeff, an experienced RAGBRAI-er, had wisely decided we needed to eat to make it to our overnight stop in Storm Lake so he bought both of us pork sandwiches and Cheetohs. I hesitated (for more than a little while) and reluctantly ate the pork sandwich because I knew I needed to eat. Lo and behold, it was good! Not only that, I know I wouldn't have had the energy to make it to Storm Lake without it. Aaaaaaand...when someone does a kindness for you, I've learned that accepting the kindness is gracious and a gift to both parties. So, even though pork is still not going to appear on my list of meats I go in search of, sometimes you eat the pork...for multiple reasons.

2) And sometimes you stick to the courage of your convictions

Our team, like several other teams, has a rule that we always stop for free beer. On a particularly long stretch between towns one day, we saw a sign for free beer. What clinched it for me was the mechanical bull I saw set up next to the cornfields. We dismounted from our bikes and checked the scene out. It turned out that a political group was taking names and addresses in support of corn ethanol production in Iowa in return for a free beer ticket. This was something I just could not bring myself to do (this is not the blog to discuss the ins and outs of my corn ethanol beliefs...suffice it to say, no way was I signing my name in support)...so I went in without a free beer ticket and made a beeline for the shiny object that caught my eye...the mechanical bull. I have been obsessed with riding mechanical bulls since my college days and I was so excited to revisit my awesome bull riding abilities from years past (this recollection was in no way clouded by alcohol previously consumed that day). As luck would have it, even without signing away my beliefs, I ended up with a free beer and a bull ride (nailed it).

3) Take the alternate route

The second day of RAGBRAI, I was informed that four well known RAGBRAI teams were having their anniversary party together and the party was "off route". This meant that to get to it, we had to bike off of the official RAGBRAI route...so there wouldn't be police officers or sag wagons and we wouldn't be riding every official RAGBRAI mile. The extremist in me balked at this...wasn't this why I was here? To ride EVERY mile of the official RAGBRAI route? Luckily, my better half won out and I was off biking to the alternative route party. Let me tell you...it was amazingly fun. Whenever someone asks me to name my most fun RAGBRAI memory, this is inevitably one that comes up. The teams had sponsored a party in Twin Lakes, IA, at a country club. There was an awesome DJ and grassy dance floor, where my friend Todd and I proceeded to dance our asses off, an adult slip and slide (not gonna lie...it has been a lifelong goal of mine to participate in an adult slip and slide), beer pong and so many fun people.

4) You don't have to ride every "official" RAGBRAI mile

It was so much fun at the alternate route party that we ended up staying a little late and drinking a little (lot) too much so I ended up on the DLO team bus heading to Fort Dodge. These were the only miles I didn't ride in the six days I did RAGBRAI. Todd and I were a little disappointed in ourselves for not riding all of the miles but the more I've thought about it, the more I've realized that is what RAGBRAI is...it's the experience, whatever that looks like that year, and it's not about literally riding every single "official" mile. The next night we went off route and went to a beer garden in a little town called Osawa...the sign advertising a beer garden that was open all night was like a siren's song. We biked the 1.5 miles off route and found an awesome beer garden where the DJ played whatever song we wanted. My friend Jeff finagled a shower with a garden hose at a house across the street from the beer garden (complete with Ajax dish soap and towels) since we knew we'd be getting back too late for the camp showers and then we proceeded to dance and request songs into dusk. This is where I got the opportunity to brush up on my jitterbug and request as much 80s music as I possibly could. We biked back at dusk...and the night ride was utterly gorgeous. The air was fresh, the sunset was amazing and the day was so much fun...well worth forgoing a legit shower.

5) You might get burned all to hell but it's worth it (and you'll know better next time)

So I forgot my sunscreen and my lip shit in my bag that I put on the truck every morning...the one that wasn't with me during the day when the sun was beating down on me...for three days in a row. By the time I noticed that my skin was frying and remembered to put my sunscreen and lip shit in my bike bag, it was too little, too late. By the end of the week, my lips were blistered (when I returned last Saturday, my lips resembled a character in The Nightmare Before Christmas) and the skin on my back looked like I was molting. Actually, by the end of the week, I think I was molting, burnt, inadequately nourished, dehydrated and exhausted. RAGBRAI was literally one of the most fun weeks of my life...and though I got burnt and fleetingly disfigured, it was so worth it. Next time, of course, I will hopefully (sometimes I don't learn the lesson after just one time...) prevent the severe burns. Either way, the ride was worth getting burnt and I'll know better next year.

6) Costumes make everything more fun

Next year, I will have more "fun" biking outfits and costumes. If there is fun to be had, a costume enhances that fun exponentially. I used to wear costumes and outfits and wigs all of the time...every event had a theme and I was dressing up for it. I quit doing that sometime in the last five years and RAGBRAI made me aware of the travesty that loss has been in my life. So I vow, not just for RAGBRAI but for all fun life events, costumes will once again be a part of my dress code. Thank you for the reminder, RAGBRAI! Oh, and for future reference, you can buy or trade for almost any costume component you may find you're in need of from random bar patrons and cyclists on the ride...

7) Setting up your tent is much easier when it's light and you're sober

It was the fifth night before I experienced this strange phenomenon. We got into Cedar Falls before dark and hadn't had too much to drink on the way in. Some people on my team, myself included, graduated from UNI and we were all looking forward to our opportunity to shower in a house in a real shower and go out on the hill (Suds!!!). I literally exclaimed out loud that setting up my tent was so much easer in daylight without being drunk (news to me!), which got a few chuckles. It was nice to have the comparison of those two different tent raising states for the sake of experience and RAGBRAI taught me that I can do both...

8) You can do more than you think you can

I wondered, even well into the third day, how I was going to ride all of those miles and still have ridiculous fun, stay up chatting in the circle of secrets at night and get up and pack up at 6:00/6:30 every morning. Actually, I'm still kind of wondering how I did that because it's a feat that I don't seem to be capable of in my real life. But I did and I was never too tired to ride, it was never not fun, even when it was raining or windy or hilly, and I even managed to stay up later each night as the week went on. Don't get me wrong...when we finished on Friday night, I was shot and a shell of my former physical self (please reference the aforementioned molting...also, my hands started to become more like clubs instead of adroitly functioning appendages for fine motor skills-casualties of gripping my handlebars). But I rode every day, every mile (except the aforementioned alternate route party day) and it was a blast. The adrenalin, the fun, the people, the life...it wasn't hard to love every minute of it and perform to the best of my riding and partying abilities.

9) Bring a journal to remember your RAGBRAI memories

I brought a journal with me, in which I idealistically thought I would document my RAGBRAI experiences and observations. What actually ended up happening was that my notebook was hijacked by my team and "entries" were made under my RAGBRAI name, Ami, by various members of our team. The journal was a source of many belly laughs and laughing until we were crying in bars...and it's even more hilarious because in each entry, no matter how ludicrous, there is actually a nugget (sometimes just a fleck) of truth. So I did end up with an excellent source of RAGBRAI memories and we ended up with a lot of laughs and ridiculousness. Well worth it.

These are only a few of the things that made RAGBRAI amazing. Of course, it was mostly the people...on my team, in the towns, on other teams...it was a week filled with joy and happiness and ridiculousness...what every adult needs more of in their life. And you know me...for all of the fun, there is always a philosophical connection. The things I experienced during RAGBRAI, I think, are generally good guides for life in general.

Take the alternate route...it might not be what you planned or what you thought would happen in your life, but guess what...it might be the most fun you've ever had and you don't know who you will meet or what you will learn on the ride. You don't have to ride every mile the way you're "supposed to". Life is about the experience and sometimes that is riding on the bike and sometimes it's taking the bus...the point is to experience it and live it and love it...every moment.

We have to know when to 'eat the pork'-when we need to be flexible in our lives-and when we need to stand by the courage of our convictions. Both have a time and a place and it is part of wisdom to know the difference. 

We can learn from the experiences in our lives that "burn" us...AND that doesn't mean they weren't worth it or something we needed to go through to get to a different, more wisdom filled spot. 

We are stronger than we think and can do more than we give ourselves credit for. Documenting our experiences, through writing or pictures or friends or story telling, is a very valuable practice and preserves our beautiful memories and happiness-es. And the costume thing...well, that just speaks for itself.