i found some nature

In one of my early LA adventures, Andy & I went for a mystery drive. It was about 6pm and we thought we'd head west to watch the sunset. Living in the Valley I assumed we'd eventually reach the edge of the mountains that encompass this valley. And from there I thought chances would be good that we could park somewhere and catch a gorgeous California sunset.

I wasn't too far off re: my geography. We drove maybe 20 minutes and we reached a higher elevation. We stumbled upon what looked like a state park. We parked in the park's parking lot. (ok, that was a fun use of the word park, but I'll stop now.)

We got out and looked to see the beautiful valley behind and below us. Ahead of us were yellow and brown grassy covered hills--mighty hills. I suppose these were part of the mountains. It was picturesque in a new kind of way. This was something I had not experienced before.

As we headed down a dirt path I was immediately struck by how dry everything was. The dirt was more like dust than dirt. It hadn't seen a drop of moisture in months, or so it appeared. As we walked, we stirred up little dust clouds with our feet. I could feel the dust/dirt on my face, in my mouth and on my eyeballs. Very weird sensation.

My second impression of this place was the silence that it held. It was....beautiful. Sweet, sweet silence broken only by the song of crickets, the flutter of birds' wings, and distant voices of hikers on the next hill. I stopped on the path and watched the silence just happen. It brought tears to my eyes. I felt Rob's spirit--my early hiking partner and Nature Boy extraordinaire. He would be happy that I had found some nature again.

Andy came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. He kissed a tear as it ran down my dusty cheek. We held hands and walked further down the path, talking a little and half listening for the rustling of rattlesnakes. I was not dressed for this. I'd worn flip flops which had now turned light grey from the dust. Ewww.

At one point on the path I caught the distinct scent of licorice. I commented, but Andy couldn't smell it. I would have thought it was my imagination, but at that same spot on the way back I smelled it again. I decided that anise must be growing wild there. Very cool. I think I must have been a bloodhound in a past life. I can detect the slightest scent.

It was hot. And dry. Who would be stupid enough to embark on this hike without bottled water? Us. In our defense, we were simply looking for a sunset. Because it was so damn hot and dry, we left before the sunset made its stand. Oh well. But on this adventure we found so much more than we expected. And the 6 pack of ice cold beer we bought at BevMo on the way home wasn't bad either!

seeking comfort

Three weeks in and I'm feeling the effects of my strange, new world. Moving from a small, affluent community in suburban Canada to the 2nd largest city in the US, it seems as if I've plunged into some weird sensory explosion, and deprivation, at the same time.

I took a major blow when I visited the DMV and tried to register my Canadian car, finding out that it cannot be registered anywhere in the US because it does not meet US safety standards. WTF I just bought it brand new a year ago. How could this be? Plus, I just fucking paid $1100 to ship it here! I panicked and it set me spinning, amplifying all the other things that were beginning to feel a bit 'challenging'...

...Like the traffic. LA traffic is notorious, second only to Toronto and possibly NYC, maybe Boston too. I can deal with masses of vehicles, but all these roads and routes are unfamiliar to me. And there are things I've never even heard of or seen before, like red curbs, and pedestrian crossings everywhere and notices about not blocking intersections or they will kill your firstborn. And if you have the fortune of evading the 8 hours of rush hour traffic per day, the 45 minutes you saved on your 10 mile journey will be spent finding legal parking that doesn't cost you your second born.

OK, I am venting right now. But seriously...have you ever driven in LA? Holy shit! It's not for the faint of heart. I come home exhausted every time.

I also need to bitch about the noise. At least a little. Our apartment is in a fabulous location near one of the busiest intersections in the Valley. Lots to see and do within steps of our door. But we're on the 1st floor on the street side and Andy loves to sleep with the window open for fresh air. PROBLEM. I tried to be a trooper, but I tell you I felt like I was lying between the double yellow lines, trucks whipping by me in all 6 lanes as I lay there trying to sleep. Yep.

I have not heard silence anywhere in weeks. I have not seen a squirrel in weeks. The only place I've seen birds is at the beach. I see very few dogs or children. I miss my dog. I miss chipmunks. I miss the sound of crickets. I miss falling asleep to the rain. I miss Rob's backyard. I miss Rob. I miss our deep conversations, and I miss the comfort of his shoulder. I miss the endless stroking of my hair that made the whole world disappear. Where I could feel safe and go limp. And not be on guard for cars coming out of nowhere or people telling me I just spent $1000 needlessly, or sirens at 3am that make me wonder who's dying now.

Waaah! Give me a space where I can at least have my private melt down. I need to let the tears fall. I need to wail, yeah, just wail as loud as I want where no one will hear or see me. I don't want Andy to worry that I'm unhappy, or that I want to go back, because I don't. I just need to let this out in my own way, in my own space, so that I can move forward.

our first fight

For the last 2 years Andy and I have been trying to have our first fight. It's hard to get in a fight when you adore each other to the point of sickening others. But I always thought that you can't really know a person until you have a fight. How they act during the fight and, maybe more important, after the fight, can show you a hell of a lot about someone's character. And when you're considering moving in with someone, this is pretty important shit.

Andy and I never had the opportunity to discover any of this before moving in together. Recently we were 'blessed' with our first conflict.

I could feel the tension building over a couple days. It started with the project of building 4 IKEA bookshelves together. It was mildly interesting (and annoying) to see how Andy thought he needed to take control of the project. When things needed to be opened with a razor knife, he had to do it. When screws needed tightening, Andy needed to do it. And nails needed to be hammered by the man too....hmmmm.

I guess I'm more of a feminist than I thought. He knows I'm capable of everything from laying a lineoleum floor to replacing a toilet to selling my own house, yet he needed to hammer the nails.

OK, we survived the IKEA test without any words or hard feelings. Two days later the movers finally delivered my furniture along with my 42 boxes. Needless to say after the long wait I was antsy to unpack and get things in their place. I felt like I'd been camping for 3 weeks.

Yes, I was a little stressed. Andy had whittled his stuff down to 'essentials', and so had I. But we still had stuff that needed a place in some cupboard, closet or shelf. I dealt with his collection of an estimated 250 t-shirts, CDs which filled an entire cabinet, and books and DVDs which filled 4 large bookcases. (Oh yeah, my books filled a shelf.) He dealt with my kitchen gadgets, china and pots and pans I couldn't part with, and my beloved dining room table with 8 chairs.

We managed to find space for stuff. I guess what sent me over the edge was how absorbed he was in listening to some crazy ass podcast for hours, totally oblivious to what I was doing. The one time I asked for help in my hours of unpacking he had said yeah, yeah, in a minute and then nothing... I even tossed my famous black skirt at him--the one I'd worn with nothing underneath that he'd thrown me over the side of the bed and licked my ass in--and he never even noticed.

That did it! I was pissed.

When Andy finally reentered the land of the living (ie, the podcast ended), I was sitting on the couch with steam shooting out of my ears. He said we should get ready soon to go out and meet his friend. Earlier I had really wanted to do this, but now I was in such a foul state that I knew it would be all bad. So I said no and explained why.

Well, Andy got defensive and said You know I would have helped you, all you had to do was ask me. I can't read your mind and I can't be accused of things I didn't even know. OK, you see where this is going...?

I took a few deep breaths and tried to remain calm while I explained what had transpired during his mesmerized state. I topped it off with the fact that he missed the black skirt attention-getting attempt. Just maybe that hit home for him.

Anyway, we forgave each other then, but we still went through levels of forgiving each other. I think in all it took Andy a couple days to work it out in his mind. I think he was a little shocked that we'd had a fight at all. I wasn't. It was a growing experience for us. I can't say I look forward to the next time, but hey, this is life and this life is exactly what I ordered.

insatiable wife

One of things I was most looking forward to about living with Andy was the constant access to sex. I love sex, I crave it, I seek it, it is one of my greatest joys. Sex via Skype can make one crazy over the long term. It's great for teasing, taunting, and relieving immediate tension, but it's just not enough. Eventually we need the real thing.

I am happy to say that I now have it! Andy isn't privy to the Dinamo nickname and its origin, but he is familiar with my sexual appetite. Let's just say he is a happy man since we moved in together. I love to please him in every sexual way and I am usually the initiator, though we are both very affectionate in a physical way all day long.

One of my favorite things to do is to say something really intimate and dirty to him when he is least expecting it, like when we're walking down the street looking in shop windows or something. And then I thoroughly enjoy his reaction. Today I told him what nasty things I think about while he's going down on me. He grabbed me and made some comment about his insatiable wife.

I love those Freudian slips . It's not the first time he's referred to me as his wife. He does it every now and then. I do too, in my mind, but I catch that husband word before I speak it. I know we're not close to married yet, but the fact that these slips happen means that we feel that close and familiar with each other. That makes me warm and fuzzy. And horny.

baby's no baby anymore

Keeping in touch with my 16 year old daughter Christie back east has not been easy since I moved out here. She's been living with her dad at a beach house on Lake Erie where the cell reception is horrible and internet signal intermittent. In another couple weeks she'll move out here with me, but until then I have to take a huge leap of faith that all is well.

Our best form of communication, unfortunately, has been Facebook. I rarely hear from her since I left, so when I received a message from her the other day asking me when I thought her last period was, I got concerned. I racked my brain to remember the approx date and made my best guess. I sent her my response to which she replied "I'm scared."

A little back and forth ensued till I got her to admit exactly what she was scared of. Maybe I'm pregnant or something. Which means that she and her boyfriend have had sex of some sort. Deep breath....

I didn't freak, but clearly I had concerns. Why did she break golden rule #2 (don't get near a penis without a condom)? How long had she been wondering, and is it too late to fix? What happened, when and where? How will I deal with this 'situation' from 2500 miles away??

I had always wished she would feel comfortable enough to talk me when she was thinking about having sex. Just a few weeks ago I'd broached the subject while we were driving in the car and she'd had such a shocked reaction that I erased that idea for another little while. But apparently it was just a cover. Oh well, the important thing is that she came to me with the problem.

As she was pretty panicked over the possibility of being pregnant at 16, we discussed her getting a preg test from the store as soon as possible. She said she'd take care of it. The day became night and I still hadn't heard back from her. The next morning I messaged her again I need to hear from you.

It seemed that her 19 year old sister Maria had told her it was probably nothing to worry about since 'he wasn't in her very long'. I gasped to myself. Unfortunately I had to raise the concern level with Christie again. Not that I wanted to panic her, I mostly wanted her to ACT. She/we needed to alleviate all fear as soon as possible.

So Maria was nice enough to go buy a test kit for her sister. After a few torturous hours (for me) it turned out negative, thank God. In the end, Maria told Christie she was an idiot for being so careless and gave her a couple condoms. I thanked her. Let's hope a huge lesson was learned here.

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not angry or disappointed that my 16 year old daughter has lost her virginity. In fact, if I'd been around I would have had a little private celebration with her. Sex is a beautiful thing, and one of life's greatest joys, especially if it's with someone you love. Cripe, I lost my viriginity at 14, so I'm damn happy she waited this long.

I am happy that she felt close enough to her boyfriend to want to experience sex with him, I just wish they hadn't been irresponsible about it. We'll be talking more about this when she arrives in a couple weeks. But for now I am breathing a big sigh of relief.

and away we go

As I boarded the plane on the first leg of my trip I tried not to cry. I'd just left everyone I loved (except Andy) behind. I had a seat all by myself in the 2nd row on a little commuter plane where I thought I could stew in my feelings.

Then appeared our flight attendant Shane. Shane was clearly destined for a successful Disney career with his well-delivered comedic script outlining all the flight safety instructions. Smoking is strictly prohibited on this plane. However, feel free to use our only designated smoking area located outside on the wing, so the rest of you can then enjoy today's feature presentation of Gone With the Wind. And my favorite line: ...and if this flight should suddenly turn into a cruise please use the floatation device located underneath your seat.

The next flight wasn't nearly as entertaining. For most of the 4 hours I slept off and on with the help of some earplugs. In my awake moments I thought of Mom. I thought of my sister Lynn and our teary hug last night, and of Annie my drinking buddy, and of leaving Christie behind for a few weeks, and my Maria who I hoped didn't hate me again. And I also thought of Rob who I was sure was thinking of me on such a pivotal day in my life.

Like my mood, the landscape of this United States of America changed every half hour. I love that about flying to California. It's always fun to wake up from a snooze and peek out the window to see some new fascination below you. As I watched the changing scenery I also noticed the shift in my state of mind. I emerged from a little sadness to acceptance to anticipation the more I thought about Andy waiting for me at the airport.

Goddamn, I am moving in with a man! It hits me every once in awhile as if it was a brand new thought. This is huge. There's seriously no turning back now, not that I'd want to. How exciting

this all is. Nine months in the making--what a friggin massive undertaking this has been. And the day really came. I did it. I really did it.

I landed at LAX after one of the best flights Ive ever had. I said to myself I am home, hoping my mother couldn't hear me because surely she'd correct me. Down the escalator I've rode only 3 times including today, and into the arms of my beloved Andy who arrived with his customary welcome bouquet.

Welcome home, Darlin'.

The drive to our new apartment took only 30 minutes. We loaded my things into our arms and headed up the elevator, around the corner and down the hallway to our door where he unloaded everything neatly in the hallway. He unlocked the door, picked me up into his arms and carried me across the threshhold.

the snub

My last chance to see my older daughter Maria before my move to LA was July 4th. I'd invited her to join my mom and me for fireworks (and asked her to bring Christie along as Christie is staying with her until the end of July when she'll join me in LA).

I'd been emotional and a little anxious all day. This was a day I couldn't call. I didn't know whether I'd get a heartfelt hug and 'see you soon in LA' or a fresh dose of guilt. What I did get was not enough of a good thing.

First of all, Maria brought 3 people with her (Christie and 2 friends). I saw them only sporadically through the day with no chance for a private conversation. And then it wasn't until 10pm, right as the fireworks were starting, that Maria and her friends joined us. Of course when the sky is boomin and beamin there's no room for conversation. She was also glued to her best friend the whole time.

I sat behind them on the blanket. I remember thinking that this is the last time for a long time that I will be sitting this close to Maria. I wondered did she care?

Soon the show was over and everyone was folding blankets and gathering their things for the walk back to the car. Christie gave me a big hug to last for the 3 weeks till I would see her again. As Maria started to walk away to her car I tapped her and said hey, time for a hug.

She dutifully turned to me and 'let' me hug her for a brief moment. When I told her I love you Maria, she pulled away and said *Sure* you do.

I was stunned emotionally, but not surprised at her reaction. If I was apprehensive about this day and what it all meant, I'm sure it was even more so for Maria. That's why she brought friends along for distraction and held close to her best friend like a suit of armor.

It was far easier for Maria to choose anger over sadness as anger has been her strength for years...or so she thinks. The thought of us moving 2500 miles away from her is still too much for her to accept. I know it'll take time and her acceptance will come and go, just like her moods.

As much as it sounds like I handled it all, it didn't roll off me so easy. My daughters and their friends walked to Maria's car, the rest of us walked to Mom's car. I walked alone in a crowd so noisy that nobody heard me sobbing into the rolled up blanket I was carrying, no, squeezing for dear life. It felt good to cry.

mom--a week of wisdom

Leaving friends, family and the place you've lived for 40+ years is not easy. There were many people I didn't want to say goodbye to. There has been some guilt along the way, but I seem to overcome that when I consider the big picture--the amazing opportunities for Christie and me.

I worried a little about the young girl who would 'take my place' at work, I worried about Rob feeling the loss of me, and I worried about Maria's feelings mostly in being so far away from her sister and me. But I knew they'd all find their way before long.

It's Mom who worried me most. Not really worry...but concern. She has shown the biggest reaction to my announcement of moving away. She's had a hard time the last couple years since a relationship ended and she hasn't had a fulfilling one since. So she seems to rely on her daughters more. And she referred to me as her rock more than once. She's had some physical complaints lately, which isn't really her character. I can't help but think they are psychosomatic.

So when I chose the closing date on my house and my flight date to LA, I built in a week to spend living at my mom's. And it's the best thing I could have done. It was good for her, and it was good for me.

Mom's house has been a perfect haven to chill down after the stress of coordinating a move and enduring months of chaos. It was just her and me, and quiet times. I finally had quality time to spend hanging out with her. I helped her with all the things she couldn't or didn't want to do on her own. She was the epitome of gratefulness. And it felt really good to take care of her. I may have even spoiled her!

As our last few days together came to a close, I was worried that we'd had no heart-to-heart conversations about my leaving. Every time I'd brought it up, she'd say I don't want to talk about it. I'll enjoy the now and just do what I have to do when the time comes. I never forced her to talk about it, and still wonder if that was smart. I know from experience that feelings trapped inside can fester into something not so good. But I didn't have the heart to bring out her pain.

Instead, we enjoyed the still mornings waking up to birds chirping outside her bedroom window, were amused at her inability to form a complete sentence before finishing her 2nd cup of coffee in the morning and we appreciated the opportunity to take care of each other in ways we both needed and had not been able to do in the last 30 years living apart.

At the 5:30 am drop off at the airport the day I left, Mom was the brave soldier she'd always told me to be whenever I was afraid as a child. I stood on the sidewalk at my drop off point, suitcase at my side, as she came out for the hug. I'd been strong and tearless up to this point, which was easy to do as I reflected her. But the hug broke the floodgates and I had to swallow hard to contain my emotion.

She looked at me and said Now go write a beautiful chapter! I smiled through the blur and turned towards my new life.