Conversations

Everyone possesses that one special place in the world.  A place for solace, a safe harbor, a thinking spot.  I know it may sound weird, but mine exists on a grassy little patch at the foot of a white marble headstone at Fort Logan National Cemetery.  My thoughts feel better equipped to run free if I share them with my dad.  So, I often grab the blankets from the back of my car, sit with my Papa and tell him my thoughts, my worries, my joy, my wishes and whatever my current condition may be. 

When my dad was alive, he asked me about my day…every day.  He asked about my classes, my teachers and my homework.  He listened attentively and got to know each of my friends through the stories I told.  He wanted me to read my essays and papers out loud to him.  We talked about news, politics, actors, books and any other topic that struck us.  Ironically, though, in the final days of his life, I hated talking.  I sat in his hospital room reading, staring out the window, acting every bit the bratty teenager I was at that time, and doing my best to answer each and every one of his questions with one-word answers, hoping we could just stop talking.

So, maybe my conversations now with my dad help me relinquish the guilt I held on to for so long after he died.  Maybe I’m attempting to capture lost time and lost conversations.  Maybe I feel like he actually hears me and that comforts my heart.  Maybe I feel like I can tell him things that I can’t otherwise verbalize to any other soul.  Maybe I’ll just always be Daddy’s little girl.  Whatever the reason, or combination of reasons, I am always drawn to his side during the best and worst periods of my life and so many occasions in between.  When I’m there, I’m home. It’s like I’m back sitting at the foot of his old recliner.  I talk, he listens and for just that small period of time, I feel like nothing else matters.  Time slows down, my thoughts come pouring out and I feel completely blanketed in safety and calmness.  I really also feel as though he’s talking back, too. I can hear the questions he would ask, the way he would challenge some of my notions and the pride he would feel in being my greatest confidante.

Every year, shortly before Christmas, I deliver a holiday bouquet to my dad’s grave site.  Then, a few weeks later for his birthday, I retrieve the Christmas arrangement and swap it out for flowers for his birthday, a shot of Jim Beam (his favorite) and a steaming cup of black coffee.  Today, January 11, is my dad’s birthday, so he and our annual tradition are at the forefront of my mind. I probably won’t visit until the weekend, though, so that I have plenty of time to spend there, setting the stage for another interesting year of conversations. 2011 is already making my head spin. I can’t imagine what this year will bring and what scenarios will draw me to talk to my dad.  No matter what this year holds, I know that my thoughts are held in confidence and shared in love at the one place that always feels safe.

Incidentally, I know that as disjointed as this post is, my dad would love that I used him as the inspiration and catalyst to sit and write again.  This blog has been empty for far too long, although many thoughts and conversations have been unfolding.  I hope that through my talks with my dad, I’ll also be able to put my thoughts together more this year to capture them here.

Weekly F-Bombs

It’s not what you’re thinking.  Although I do lace my vocabulary with the occasional colorful swear word, I have decided to implement a new addition to this blog on a weekly-ish basis, called the F-Bomb.   I will highlight something in each of the Five F’s (Family, Friends, Food, Fashion and Fun) on which this blog is based.  There will be little tidbits in each category from the previous week that caught my eye or attention and were of note to me or that triggered a memory or thought.

Those who know me well know that I’m rarely at a loss of words or opinions, but I’ve struggled with how to structure my writing and to do it more often, so this will allow me to have more frequent time to reflect, and hopefully appreciate, what’s happening around me.

And away we go:

Friends

I had lunch last week with my friend, Cali (Twitter handle: @caligater).  You know when you spend time in someone else’s company and then you walk away feeling refreshed, enlighted and with your spirits high?  Most of my, and everyone else’s, encounters with Cali are just that way.  It is fitting, then, that I let you know that she was the inspiration behind this F-Bomb idea.  On her fabulous blog, she has started doing weekly Gater Bites, where she shares interesting articles, music, and other musings from around the Web.  I fess to it that I totally stole the idea of weekly tidbits and made it my own here.  Why mess with brilliance?  Thank you, Cali, for being you, which incidentally means being warm, smart, articulate and relatable.  You are an admirable person, who also happens to share two traits with me that few fully understand – an insane need to overcommit and the struggle with retreating after doing so (closet introverts unite).  I only hope to continue spending more quality time being inspired by you, and I’ll try to keep the pilfering to a minimum.

Family

My aunt is an angel on earth.  Really, she is.  Anyone who meets her is instantly struck by her warm, kind nature.  Murph calls her a “sweetheart” and he doesn’t often use such flowery terms about anyone.  Since the holidays, she has taken up an old hobby – crocheting.  My aunt is a very skilled seamstress (she taught design school classes in South Korea back in the day) and also knits and crochets.  She has a favorite pattern for a specific doily.  She crochets this one favorite pattern over and over (from memory now) and she gives away these wonderful pieces to friends and random neighbors (really – she walked over a few streets to give one to variable strangers because they were nice enough to help shovel our walkways one snowy day).  Mine sits on the hope chest at the foot of my bed.  Murph’s is on his bedroom dresser.  Doilies may seem old-fashioned, but anyone who receives one has a little piece of my aunt with them, and that is a treasure. She puts love and pride into every item she crafts, so no matter what she makes, people accept them delight.

Food

From Babbo NYC Web site

My pal, Lee (Twitter handle: @JustaSunGod) and his wife have been world travelers in recent months.  He’s been documenting these travels through entertaining YouTube recordings, letting us office drones live vicariously and enviously through them.  One of the foods he discovered while traveling in Spain was black pasta.  Black pasta is made/flavored with squid ink.  Before you crinkle your nose in disdain or get any ill-conceived notions about it, let me tell you, promise you, that black spaghetti is packed with deliciousness!  My friend Jen and I took a girls’ trip to New York last fall and were introduced to black spaghetti at Mario Battali’s Greenwich Village restaurant, Babbo.  That meal was single-handedly the best Italian meal either of us had ever experienced and the black spaghetti was our favorite.  After we returned home, Jen discovered that Babbo provided a Black Spaghetti with Rock Shrimp and Spicy Soprressata recipe on their Web site and that her local Whole Foods market carried black spaghetti (I had to resort to ordering mine online).  We both made this dish, with slight modifications.  Verdict? Not nearly as good as the Babbo experience but a delightful runner-up for the adventurous home cook (and very simple to make)!

Fashion

I have a new bucket list item, as of yesterday.  Elaine Ellis (Twitter handle: @ElaineEllis) is the kind of person who you would hate, if she wasn’t so darn likeable.  You would hate her because aside from the fact that she is a wickedly smart and effortlessly cool woman, she spent the past 90 days traveling Europe (find out more and join me in the love/hate relationship by exploring the blog that captures photos from her adventures).  She’s back in the States now, in New York, and yesterday, SHE GOT TO GO TO THE MARC JACOBS FASHION SHOW FOR NEW YORK FASHION WEEK!!!!!!!  AND LIVE TWEETED PICTURES!!!!!  Yes, it *is* worthy of capital letters and the annoying overabundance of exclamation points and yes – I am SHOUTING!  A fashion show. During New York Fashion Week.  Live.  In person.  Thanks for the motivation, Elaine.  More to do before I die.

Fun

If you hadn’t noticed by the references above – or if you haven’t heard me mention it once or a million times – I love Twitter.  It is my favorite social media outlet and even though I use them for different purposes, Facebook doesn’t hold a candle to Twitter.  I tweeted this morning that I’m growing tired of people who claim to be adept with social media but then tell me they don’t “get” Twitter.  I won’t try to explain Twitter here because you can’t really know it until you’ve tried it…REALLY tried it.  Instead, I will just tell you about the numerous people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting in the Twitterverse and in real life.  People like Cali, Lee and Elaine.  I have regular girls’ wine nights with Twitter friends.  I’ve received recommendations on everything from restaurants to the type of external hard drive to buy. I’ve consistently seen news break on Twitter before any other news outlet. I won tickets for Murph and me to sit in a suite at the Pepsi Center for a Nuggets game.  Twitter has proven itself as an excellent customer service tool.  Whether I’m happy or upset with a customer service experience, I’ve had immediate follow-up from businesses after throwing my comments out into the Twitterverse. Most importantly, I’m now honored to be a part of a growing philanthropic effort with brilliant people who I met on Twitter (more on that in an upcoming F-Bomb). Smart companies monitor and manage their brands on Twitter.  Smart people build and strengthen relationships on Twitter.