Golden Gate Park: The Japanese Tea Garden

Now that I am a local, I want to act like one.  Tourists might think Golden Gate Park is something for them… a place to tour museums, ride bicycles and let the kids blow off some excess energy.  But it is the same for the locals as well: an escape.  Its lush green gardens and remote corners, much like Central Park, beckon the weary professional to release their stressors and escape for a few moments.

I did exactly this on Sunday!  I went to the Japanese Tea Garden for a little R & R, writing, reading, and some green tea…

This video sums up my mood (melancholy) and the beautiful scenery as captured by my little point and shoot camera (not too shabby, huh).  Enjoy!

Is there such a thing as the ‘right’ man? A woman with a ticking clock speaks out

Taking a break from my search for delicacies and exotic coffees in the bay area, I feel compelled to speak to you today on something a little more personal:

Is there such a thing as the ‘right‘ man?

I read an article this morning in the Wall Street Journal entitled “The Right Man is Getting Harder to Find“.  It described a woman, much like myself, with a career that isn’t her world but does, in some way, define her… athletic… college educated… an overwhelming desire to be a mother… and without a mate.

Let’s start with the basic fact: no two people are alike.  It is impossible to find someone just like you, and if you could in a fantasy world, would you really want a carbon copy of yourself?  Diversity is appealing and can create a balance between people, or at least that is my belief.  For example, if you only like certain foods and you meet someone that has a love for diverse cuisine, you may branch out and broaden your palette.  Or, maybe you spend most of your time indoors and your partner encourages you to try tennis or hiking, allowing you to discover a side of yourself that you never knew before.  This type of diversity is invigorating, new and necessary.

But, what about those types of diversity that are deal breakers or, at the very least, problematic?

Do we have kids or not have kids?

I am an educated individual, and I feel that I need someone who is my intellectual equal.

A balance between family and work is important to me.

I must be an individual with someone who compliments me but doesn’t define me.

The Wall Street Journal article focuses on a woman from Kansas City, my age, who is career oriented and passionate about life.  She has always known that motherhood was her destiny, yet she finds herself with one small problem: no husband to share her passion and life with.  For some reason men are bothered by her independence, her success, and quite frankly everyone she meets seems to be less intellectual and rather boring.

What to do?  Do you hold out for the ‘right’ man, believing that time will bring the two of you together?  Do you let go of the anxious feelings that are ever encompassing, telling you that your maternal clock is ticking and just let destiny take over?  Or, do you put yourself out there, in multiple situations, hoping that each one will bring you the answers you seek?

This is a dilemma that many women, professional women, find themselves in every day.  Is there such a thing as the ‘right’ man?  Maybe, maybe not.  I must admit that I have tried and failed at marriage; loving someone can sometimes blind you to the deal breakers that lie under the surface, waiting to explode at just the right moment.  Don’t get me wrong; I do not regret the paths I have chosen.  They have made me who I am and for that I am extremely grateful.  However, I find myself in the same shoes as Rachel Downtain: no prospect and wanting to be a mother.  with a ticking clock.

The article states that there has been an increase of births among college educated single women of 145% since the early 80’s.  I do believe more women are taking the initiative to follow their dreams of being a mother, even in the absence of a partner which is believed to be the acceptable or social norm.  It is an admirable quality, maybe to some a crazy, neurotic decision.  To someone like me, who has always carried that maternal instinct, it doesn’t sound so crazy.

So, should women settle by 35?  Should they choose someone just to choose someone?  Or, as Rachel states in the article, our vision or dream of what the future will be almost always turns out to be a bit different…

“Going the sperm-bank method is definitely not my first choice, but I am not willing to give up my dream of having a child just because I can’t find Mr. Right. I am having to realize that my fairy tale dream may just be inverted a bit . . . I may have the child before finding Mr. Right.”  -Rachel Downtain, WSJ

So, to all you single ladies with independent personalities and are driven by your career and individualism, what do you think?  Is this the century of redefining relationships?  Are women ready to stand their ground and accept someone in their lives that is an equal in all necessary ways?  Will it become socially acceptable to be an unmarried mother by choice?  Does it really matter what society thinks?

The San Francisco Project: Higher Grounds Coffee House… 3 down, 49 to go

Now it gets interesting… I am actively seeking out coffee shops, hidden gems in the small, local neighborhoods of San Francisco that almost never see a tourist.  I’m a local now, right?  So shouldn’t I act like one?

Glen Park is a small, quaint neighborhood in district 8, bordering Noe Valley, Bernal Heights and Diamond Heights.  Higher Grounds Coffee House caught my eye last week as I was on one of my expeditions, mainly because the tiny, informal cafe sat on the corner of Chenery Street.  Chenery Street is studded with tiny shops, weathered by time, evoking a sense of nostalgia that areas like Union Square and my neighborhood, Soma, could never create.

Higher Grounds Coffee House was a great escape this week, releasing me from the working confines of South San Francisco biotech conglomerates.  The atmosphere was most assuredly one that promotes creativity, mostly spoken for by the rounded wooden tables worn with the past etchings of those that pondered over their next words or pencil strokes.  Classical music surrounded you; large burlap sacks draped from the ceiling left me feeling as if I were one step away from harvesting the coffee beans myself.

There was a diverse clientele in this small setting: a young couple having a late lunch and laughing about their day, an artsy gentleman who claimed to have once taught Gwen Stefani how to draw, and then there was me.  Me, and my colleague, both of us with our Apple technology trying diligently to blend into this relaxed setting yet sticking out like sore thumbs.

The coffee was good, but it wasn’t great.  I had my typical cappuccino with a hint of raw sugar to sweeten the bitterness of the espresso.  The coffee shop didn’t offer free wifi, as a matter of fact, it didn’t offer wifi at all.  However, I guess this is one of the reasons I was drawn to this particular coffee shop in the first place.  It is simplistic: a release from the daily grind (no pun intended).  One doesn’t go there to catch up on e-mails, surf the web and coordinate calendars with matching laptops!  It is an escape from today… something we all need from time to time.

Unfortunately I did not try any pastries or food products during this visit to Higher Grounds.  It was purely about the coffee… for one who was trained by the Swedes to appreciate ‘real’ coffee, I would give Higher Grounds a B-.  But then again, who am I to judge?

Take this review for what you will, but if nothing else, should you find yourself strolling through Glen Park in the near future, make it a point to spend a few moments in Higher Grounds Coffee House.  Maybe you will be inspired to write your next novel…

The San Francisco Project: Pesce in Russian Hill: 2 down, 50 to go

My search for diverse cuisine seems to follow a rather enjoyable pattern: tapas!  One of my latest finds is a seafood tapas restaurant in Russian Hill known as Pesce. Pesce identifies itself as a “Seafood Bar & Venetian Cicchetti” establishment, cicchetti meaning small plates which are typically consumed for lunch or the early afternoon.

I took the 45 bus to the intersection of Polk and Union this past Monday evening which put me within 2 blocks of this new dining experience.  Even though I was so extremely close to my final destination, I couldn’t help but be distracted by all of the adorable shops along Polk Street in Russian Hill.  My temptations got the best of me when I noticed a small shop with some of my favorite European lotions and soaps that I originally discovered on the back streets of Paris.  I hopped in for a quick look and, after securing some female essentials, strolled through the doors of Pesce late, casually late.

If you have spent any time in Paris you will understand my description of the restaurant interior: normal lighting (not too dim), darkly stained wood walls and a white and blue patterned tile floor reminiscent of the casual brassieries in Paris that offered a stimulating landing for such greats as Ernest Hemingway.  Unfortunately my travels have never taken me to Italy; therefore, I am unable to provide a correlation between this restaurant and the country from which its food is inspired.

This night was rather quiet.  Tuesdays in the city, as you can imagine, are not that active.  I was joined by a colleague for this meal; actually, it was their suggestion to dine at Pesce (I’m sorry that I don’t have another unique story about how I found this place).  My friend and I were one of only four tables occupied this night, so I cannot speak for the level of service when the place is jam packed.  However, I can tell you that everyone seemed genuinely concerned about making my first time at Pesce an amazing experience, both with food and service.  Little did they know that I have created my own version of the Michelin Inspector guidebook in blog form…

So, what enticing treats awaited us?  My friend actually slipped a copy of the heavy, translucent paper menu into my purse so I wouldn’t forget the correct names and descriptions of the tastes that delighted us so.  I cannot help but sing about my favorite dish at Pesce: Pappardelle.  Pappardelle is a “wide noodle with braised duck and porcini sauce” (Pesce menu).  In layman’s terms, this dish contained egg noodles, smothered in a perfectly seasoned tomato sauce with what looked like pulled pork but was actually duck.  I’ve tried duck a few times in my life, but honestly I was never impressed.  However, this dish so delicately combined the tender, pulled duck meat with the tastes of typical Italian sauce and pasta that I was literally wiping the bowl clean with chunks of Italian bread!

Another dish extremely worthy of mention was the Capesante.  Capesante is “pan seared scallops with wild mushrooms, green onions, cream and truffle essence” (Pesce menu).  From the first bite I felt as if I were back home, in my mother’s kitchen, sipping one of her comforting creations straight from the stove top!  To say “cream and truffle essence” doesn’t do this dish justice.  The scallops were melt-in-your-mouth as they should be, but the sauce was what sealed the deal!  It was the perfect blend of cream and mushrooms: rich cream with a subtle earthy aroma.  Needless to say, my friend and I made a deal that I could enjoy the last scallop if he could have the last sardine…

There were other dishes, but since they cannot top the pasta with duck and the scallops, why mention them here?  Of course if I encounter something that is truly unfavorable, at least in my opinion, I will share it with you.  But, in this case, just as with my first adventure at Piqueo’s, nothing stood out as a bad dish, inadequate service, or just plain annoying.  I, like everyone else, have several pet peeves.  One is most assuredly bad service.  Being nice to someone is within your control, and I truly cannot accept waitstaff who make a conscious choice to be rude and inefficient.  If this happens to me you will surely know about it.  If everything is as it should be, I will be extremely satisfied and offer my customary 20% tip.  So, in this case, Pesce receives two thumbs up for service and quality!

The San Francisco Project: Piqueo’s… 1 down, 51 to go

Saturday night.      Black leather knee high boots, grayish black tweed pencil skirt, white tank and black cardigan: classic look.      A date.  Cozy and intimate Bernal Heights.      Piqueo’s.      Wait, did I say Piqueo’s?

Yes, one of the highlights of my dining experiences in this vast city.  I stumbled upon this gem, this diamond in the rough.  Earlier that day I found myself in the backseat of a realtor’s car (yes, I said realtor), riding along with a friend to offer a female opinion on properties and neighborhoods within the bay area.  As we snaked through the narrow side streets of Bernal Heights, I felt somewhat at home.  It was a town within a city, somehow offering a handshake to whomever would pass along its streets.  Once we found ourselves driving along the main street know as Cortland Avenue, my eyes grew wide as I examined the intimate shops and restaurants, offering someone like me at least a day’s worth of activities.  And suddenly, as if it were a game of hide and go seek and I had flung open the closet door to find my best friend, I laid my eyes upon Piqueo’s: Peruvian cuisine.

Later that night, dressed and in the company of a wonderful and true friend, I stepped into this tiny, yet welcoming establishment.  The walls were a orangish hue with rustic accents and low lighting.  Laughter was abundant; it was obvious to me that locals knew this was assuredly a place to be.  While a table was prepared for two, I watched the numerous chefs busily prepare everyone’s tapas and main entrees with fluidity and intense pride in their creations.  They stood within a few feet of the main entrance; a small bar for 4 surrounded the kitchen and could be viewed by at least 1/2 of the tables in the restaurant.  Cozy was putting it mildly; I was in somewhat of a daze even before the meal began.  The anticipation was killing me…

I must tell you that I have been obsessed with another Peruvian dining experience in San Francisco that occurred last May.  For the first time I was introduced to real ceviche!  No, not a soup of salsa with a few small bites of seafood mixed in; I am talking about a plate full of fresh halibut with an intense lime flavor and a type of Peruvian corn that, when eaten together, offers the most pleasing flavor.  This one dish has drawn me to all other Peruvian restaurants since this original encounter…

As you can imagine, I started with the Ceviche de Pescado, or halibut marinated in lime juice with a yam and Peruvian corn.  Amazing! Simply amazing!  The presentation was stunning; the halibut was nicely rounded in the center of the squared plate, topped with a sprinkling of seaweed.  One corner of the plate offered a small yam, the other corner housed the Peruvian corn.  A splash of color here and there and magic!  The halibut was so fresh, it must have been brought in that day.  The lime marinade gave it just the kick it needed, and the yam/corn combination cooled the palette to make room for the next taste explosion.

The subsequent dishes offered just as much pleasure as the Ceviche de Pescado did!  Unfortunately the online menu doesn’t seem to have some of the same dishes we encountered on Saturday; therefore, I cannot give you the exact name of the dish.  However, I can give you a quick rundown of what we enjoyed immensely: Steak brochettes served with a special sauce (out of this world), Chile Relleno unlike you have ever tasted before, filled with queso fresco and smothered in a rich tomato sauce, a potato stuffed with beef known as a Papa Rellena, and for dessert we shared the Torta de Chocolate.  Oh, and did I mention the delicious glass of Rosado I enjoyed?  It was the only one on the menu so I’m sure you cannot miss it…

I must also acknowledge the service we received at Piqueo’s.  The attention to detail was superior.  This night can be summed up as follows: superior food, atmosphere and company…

As I laughed at the two of us nearly singing in unison “I’ll take the CC” (that’s chocolate cake for short), I couldn’t help but notice the lady removing everyone’s tea light candles and offering a freshly lit replacement.  I smiled to myself, appreciating the extra care and concern each and everyone had taken to make my experience extremely enjoyable.  Our plates were taken quickly but not too quickly; they seemed to know exactly what we preferred and when.  If I didn’t know better I would think they had ESP… or maybe they’ve done this thing before???

After desert I found myself wanting to stay but having no reason to do so.  Exceptionally satiated, and somewhat giddy from the rather large glass of wine, I felt as if I were dancing my way back to the car.  I would like to believe that my friend enjoyed the meal as much as I did, although I can only be responsible for my own tastes, thoughts and opinions.  All in all I would say this restaurant is at the top of my list for food, hospitality and atmosphere.  Felicitaciones to Chef Carlos Altamirano for creating Piqueo’s… it definitely left a lasting impression on me!

Reflecting on my first week in the bay area…

Dear Blog World:

I just completed my first full week in the bay area!  With my rip roarin’ ambition full steam ahead, I managed to accomplish more than most people would in a month’s time!  Here is a brief overview of the week behind me:

Furnished my new pad…

Worked a full 40+ hour week…

Took a tennis lesson at the SF Tennis Club…

Made (3) new girlfriends, meeting one Sunday for tennis…

Explored 4 new restaurants…

Listened to a wonderful piano player at Max’s Opera Cafe…

Signed up for a talk on writing your memoirs…

Discovered 2 new amazing neighborhoods: Glen Park & Burnel Heights…

Saw Avatar in 3-D (awesome)…

Tonight I am dining in Bernal Heights at Piqueo (I’m into Peruvian food right now)…

Tomorrow I will walk to the Farmer’s Market along the Embarcadero walking path and gather some fresh produce to cook a fabulous meal!

So, I guess all in all I should be quite proud of the week behind me!  I managed to do so many things in a short period of time.  I love the conveniences city life has to offer, not to mention the intense motivation I have felt over the past week to accomplish as much as possible during my stay here.

As I said in my previous blog, I am ready and willing to accept as many challenges as I can in 2010.  As I settle in and make new friends, as well as entertaining friends that visit from the east coast, I will relish in the fact that this girl, from rural North Carolina, is showing herself that she can make it in the big city… just one additional task on my To Do List that is complete…

I finally know myself… so what will I do with that knowledge in 2010?

“It’s time to be a big girl now and big girls don’t cry”.  That’s what Fergie says…

Have you ever heard the saying NEW YEAR, NEW YOU?

It’s not entirely true; no one can snap their fingers and become something or someone totally different.  Sure, small changes are a possibility, like a new exercise regimen, kicking those bad habits, or maybe creating a new perspective behind one’s blog posts…

There you go!  I said it so please hold me to it!

2009 bred change in my life: a time of reflection, constant questions and a look inside my soul in an attempt to understand what makes me tick.  2010, however, is going to be a year of celebration and welcomed challenges.  It’s a time to use what I’ve learned about myself to create opportunities and expand upon newly discovered talents.

What will I do with these newly discovered talents?  The knowledge of my own identity?

If I knew the exact answer to this question, every detail, then 2010 wouldn’t be a challenge would it?  I could list some of my thought processes here, like DINING or having COFFEE in a NEW RESTAURANT every day in SAN FRANCISCO, then BLOGGING about it afterwards… SUBMITTING my FIRST SHORT to the magazine SKIRT! for potential PUBLICATION… MEETING that new special SOMEONE and FALLING madly in LOVE…

…the list goes on and on…

and on and on…

What I can tell you is this…

For those who read my blog religiously, and for those that will come to know me over the course of 2010, you will see that I am more ambitious than ever, harnessing my energy and putting it to good use.  Hopefully you will find my blog posts more enlightening and empowering than ever.  You may even learn new things about yourself along the way.

Keep your hands and feet inside the car at all times…

secure any belongings as we are not responsible for lost articles…

and enjoy the ride…

Holidays: connecting with the familiar and the comfortable

As I sit here on this comfy 70’s style golden couch, surrounded by low lighting and 80’s music, I am reminded of why I like this restaurant: it’s a combination of everything I have ever known.  It reminds me of my grandmother’s olive colored vinyl couch that served as a stopping point for my tiny young frame as I sat engrossed in the Muppet Show.  It reminds me of high school dances; the days when my only worries were which mini-skirt I would wear, how much I could tease my hair and if any guys would ask me to dance.  It reminds me of what appeases me today; free wifi, an interesting selection of imports on draft and unique people to create new and interesting conversation.

What does this have to do with the holidays?

This is why I LOVE the holidays… it takes me, it takes us all to something familiar, something comfortable.  When life throws you curve balls on a daily basis, sending you on a roller coaster of disorganization and occasional chaos, it is nice to reach out to something that is usual.  Known.  Familiar.

That is what the holidays mean to me.  It is a time to reflect.  It is a time to take comfort in family, friends, and memories.  It is also a time to create new memories.  New memories remembering the old memories.  That is what it means to me.

Oh, and now there is a Debbie Gibson song on the radio… whether you like or dislike Debbie Gibson is besides the point.  She reminds me of a particular crush in my adolescence; I often sat and daydreamed of this boy.  It really doesn’t matter what happened all those years ago; what is important is the warmth it creates inside me.  The smile it puts on my face.

Christmas is the same for me… I can see my brothers’ eyes on Christmas morn’: bright, amazed and carefree.  How many times in your life can you truly say that you feel bright, amazed and carefree? If it comes just once a year, from a time when magic stirs in the hearts of millions, dreaming of sugar plums, then so be it…

I hope the holidays are as magical for you as they are for me.

My obsession with flight: God did give us wings… sort of

Airbus 330-200, 330-300, 340-300… you name it, I’ve flown on it!  My obsession with flight didn’t magically appear or show itself overnight, nor did it come out of choice necessarily.  It also isn’t something you would expect a female with a rather large clothing budget and a Barbie collection still tucked away in the attic to be discussing on a blog about life and relationships.  But hey, as you may have guessed by now, I am full of surprises!

My childhood vacations typically consisted of a family road trip to the closest mountain town in eastern Tennessee, spending our evenings riding go carts and our days consuming junk food and walking around outlet malls.  I wasn’t acquainted with air travel; I preferred the comfort of our family Buick with four rubber tires meeting the pavement at any given time.

As with most people who find themselves in a sales related position, travel was inevitable.  I began early in my sales career taking short jaunts to surrounding states for training and the essential meetings.  However, this experience wasn’t what one would call exciting or in any way something to obsess about: puddle jumpers as I liked to call them, regional jets, etc. were my usual transportation sources.  I often dreaded the constant hum that would ring in my ears, exponentially adding to the pain often felt due to my inability to clear my ears.  What fun did I find in this?

In 2003 the new job came… a position that forced me to experience international travel with little warning.  What was once a 45 minute trip to Washington DC was now a 8 hour trip across the Atlantic, landing in a Scandinavian country that was as foreign to me as anything I had ever experienced.  Much to my surprise I quickly became accustomed to this new form of travel; the Airbus was my new best friend.  Sure, I flew Boeing from time to time, but I had a crush so to speak on the Airbus line of aircraft.  They carried me thousands of miles from my loved ones and everything I knew, safely transporting me to my peaceful oasis or home away from home.  They returned me just as safely as they whisked me away!

Over the years I began to feel at home on these gentle yet strong giants.  Due to circumstance they had become a safe haven to transport me from one world to another.  They carried me to see the ruins of Athens, the safari parks of South Africa, the dandelion covered hills of Bavaria, the romantic streets of Paris, and not to forget the beautiful American Rockies and the rugged coastlines of our country!

God gave us wings, sort of… a way to see whatever our minds, hearts and souls wish to see on this beautiful earth…

The inspiration for this blog came from a flight from Philadelphia to Frankfurt, Germany this past Saturday evening.  I had a 3 flight journey to get to my final destination, but knowing this did little to dampen my spirits.  I did my usual routines on each flight: settling in with my iPhone close by, dozing slightly and then waking for refreshments, reading and meeting my neighbors, etc… But it wasn’t until I stepped off the aircraft in Frankfurt that it hit me: I am obsessed with flight!

The large Airbus 330 came to a stop just short of the usual gate area.  Frankfurt is an amazingly large and high volume airport, so in this instance we had to settle for exiting the plane down a metal staircase and working our way to the terminal via a series of buses.  As I stepped from the plane, I was hit with a rush of cool air as the early morning sun was yet to greet us.  I could see the lights from neighboring planes, many circling in the sky with anticipation, hoping to land and deliver a tired and weary group of passengers to their destination.  Suddenly a familiar sound caught my attention; a rather large Quantas Airbus was pulling into a neighboring gate.  It was the double decker type; a Boeing 744 to be exact.  It’s presence was enormous… the sheer thought that this beast, this metal animal with a take off weight of nearly 900,000 pounds, had moved through the air at speeds over 500 mph to carry a diverse group of individuals to this place, was nearly unimaginable.

The feeling at this moment left me with a new understanding that I do not just appreciate flight for the places it takes me, but for how it takes me there. For what makes flight possible.  And, being a North Carolina girl, a little smile came to my face immediately and I said under my breath: THANKS WILBUR AND ORVILLE...

Survival of the Fittest: What it means to me

It has been several weeks since my last blog entry, mostly because my travels have kept me in assorted cities, pouring over budgets and spreadsheets, drinking excess amounts of coffee and just feeling really, well… blah!  Tonight was my first real opportunity to slow down and prepare my favorite Southern desserts to the sounds of holiday music.  I couldn’t resist dancing around the kitchen when Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” blasted through my Sony speakers; the spectacle was a cross between Risky Business and Jazzercise.

 

Throughout the day, this pre-Thanksgiving day, I’ve been pondering all of the things, tangible and intangible, that I am thankful for.  With the maximum 140 characters allowed on Twitter, I expressed my appreciation for every new day and every opportunity to a newfound friend.  I posted a comment about being thankful for everyone who believes in me to assist in the announcement of www.TweetsGiving.org.  And still, after the posts and discussions with friends, I still feel like I haven’t summed it all up.  I have yet to encompass all of my feelings and thoughts into one statement until now…

 

SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST

 

Being a science buff, this statement reflects one of the greatest accomplishments of all time: the ability to evolve.  Being able to evolve, to survive, is a daunting task.  It isn’t something you can decide to do today and accomplish tomorrow.  It takes time… strength… possibly something that is in your DNA (no pun intended) that tells you to never give up!  One must persevere; One must roll with the punches as we often say.  But in essence it’s much more than that: it’s learning from those mistakes, those bad choices, or even those situations you find yourself in that are beyond your control.  The next logical step is to apply what you’ve learned to future situations, adapting and evolving.  There is that word again…

 

I’ve only spent a few short months opening my heart and my mind to complete strangers in the social media realm, yet the complexity of my thoughts have become apparent to many.  There are many aspects of my life that will remain private, although I must expose some minor details in order to drive home the message behind this blog.

Why am I speaking about Survival of the Fittest?

That’s easy: this Thanksgiving holiday, I am most thankful for having the ability to survive.  To learn.  To grow.

 

When I was only 6 1/2 years old, my father passed away tragically.  It was if my whole world had fallen apart.  I was truly a daddy’s girl in every sense of the word; we were basically inseparable.  Although I was quite young, my memories of my father were (until recently) vivid in my mind.  He not only had a love for cars, but a true gift in the art of metal fabrication and the rebuilding of engines and carburetors.  I loved to ride in his ‘69 Chevelle SS; I can remember how hot those black vinyl seats could get in the 95 degree summer sun.  We would often drive to the convenience store together… in a time when sitting on dad’s lap as he accelerated down the highway was a normal occurrence.  We both loved chocolate milk, big bowls of chocolate ice cream and the Dukes of Hazzard (wow, Friday nights are never that good anymore).  We loved to sing Yellow Submarine together, watch the game show Let’s Make a Deal and laugh at the contestants who got greedy and were only offered the donkey behind door #2…

And then…

I knew my father wasn’t alive when I woke that morning.  My life was forever altered.  My mother was an emotional wreck and I had to be strong… especially since my little brother was coming into this world a mere 7 months later…

This was the beginning of a path that I couldn’t see at that moment, but now it is crystal clear.  At an early age, much earlier than I would have ever desired, I was exposed to a traumatic experience.  An experience that shaped me, molded me into the person that I am today.

 

At this point you are expecting me to say that I am bitter, angry and cold to the world.  However, that is not the case.  Children have this amazing ability to comprehend much more than they are given credit for; believe me this I know is true from experience!  As tragic as my loss was at the time, I believe it gave me an instinct, a survival capability that many do not have the opportunity to grasp until much later in life.  And, as you know, children can learn at an amazing rate compared to the average adult!

 

So, today, this month, this time of year that seems to remind us of all that is good in the world, I am expressing sentiment towards survival.  Every ounce of my being, every step that I take, is in honor of my father.  I strive to give everything my best, whether it is work, friendships, love…

 

I AM THANKFUL FOR BEING A SURVIVOR.  FOR HAVING THE DRIVE TO PUSH MYSELF FORWARD.  TO ACCOMPLISH ANYTHING.  TO BE ANYTHING I WANT TO BE.  TO HAVE THE ABILITY TO TYPE WORDS ONTO THIS SCREEN AND AFFECT SOMEONE ELSE’S LIFE.

 

If there are others with similar stories reading my blog, I would truly love to hear from you.  I know I cannot be alone in the way I feel.  The way I live.  The way I survive.