you can always go home, right? (final word)

how do you follow up a post like that last one? with food...what did you think i was going to say? besides, isn't there always food. food that you can only get in that one place you were that one time. food that you remember and dream about and compare anything even remotely close, to the original sin of your tastebuds.

where i come from there is kewpee east, kewpee west, and kewpee downtown. (there's also a bob evans in almost every town, but we aren't even going to talk about that.) this happens to be kewpee east...

before: biting into my delicious, tasty kewpee burger (isn't it beautiful?)


after: comsuming every last bite (can you say, "best fucking burger ever!"?)

you can always go home, right? (part 4)

i asked for forgiveness...

Dear ******,

I’ve sat down to write this letter so many times over the years that I’m afraid I’ve lost count. I’ve not had the words, and as I sit with pen to paper, I may find that words are still lost for me. To be honest I’m not even sure this letter will make it out of my notebook and all the way to the mailbox.

Where do I begin? Where does one begin in a letter like this? One that is long overdue and 13 years in the making. I’ve always imagined the middle of this letter, never really how I got there – and so here I am at a loss again.

When I think about that August day at ******* ****, I get anxious and nervous, and I suddenly become that vulnerable 18 year old little girl again. I picture myself there, faced with the truth that I had done something so horribly wrong to another person – someone who trusted me, who may have looked up to me, who was my friend, and who should have felt safe in my presence and in knowing that I never had any intention of harm, someone I should have been protecting. And I violated that. I violated that relationship and I took away what should have been an inherent trust. I think of that day ******, and I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could go back to that day in August when we all came face to face and have the courage to say, “I did it, and I’m sorry.” But I can’t, I can only tell you now – now that I’m finding my voice, the voice that the 18 year old little girl that still hides inside of me, didn’t know was there.

You have no idea how brave and courageous I’ve always thought you to be. To have the courage to recognize that something didn’t feel right to you, to be so brave to find words and strength to say it aloud, to be secure in knowing that your family loves you and supports you and to be brave enough to tell them. I can’t imagine the anger and hurt you must have had for me for denying what you and I both knew to be the truth – I’m so sorry for that.

I’m a mom now – I have a beautiful 3 ½ year old little girl. I look at her sometimes and I know that I would do anything to protect her. I believe it is because of her that I have made my way to this place, this journey to battle my demons. She makes me want to be a better person, a stronger person, and a person who takes responsibility for her mistakes. I want her to always know that she can tell me the truth, that she can tell me anything, and know that I will always love her. How can I ask that of her if I can’t tell her the whole truth of who I am – how can I ask her to be brave if I can’t show her what that is myself?

When I look at her as I write, I am brought to your mom. Your mom was always very special to me when we were growing up. I still remember the look of disgust she had for me and it continues to break my heart. But I also remember the fierce protection she had for both you and ****. That is a mother’s love that is unmatched and I thank God you have her for yours. It is for her and for the rest of your family that I have regret also. That event, that one defining moment affected more than just you and me. But I lied to your mother – I lied to your mom when you were just trying to tell the truth – and I’m sorry to you and to her for that.

I know I can never go back and change the events of the past, but my hope is that if not today, then someday, you can find solace in my taking responsibility, for me knowing how wrong what I did was, for me saying the truth to you and to the world if I’m ever asked, for me learning from those mistakes, for the regret I feel. I’m sorry for causing you any pain, for causing your family pain, for lying to you and your mom and even myself. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

lyza jane

you can always go home, right? (part 3)

then there was the music. there's always music, right? i often feel like my life is an endless series of playlists, distinctively marking the moods and memories of my experiences.

on the drive out to ohio it was all about a mix that my shado gave me just before leaving town. it was a fucking amazing mix that made me laugh out loud, made me cry for a moment, made me remember why i was making the journey to begin with.

on the drive home it was a different sound altogether. i was in a somber mood, ready to sleep in my own bed, ready to wake up to sweet hugs from baby girl, reflective of everything that had happened in the previous 4 days...it was a whirlwind of a trip. jam packed with happiness, tears, honoring moments, remembering people, burning pages of history, letting go and moving on...

i have dubbed this my "drive all night to get home because sometimes even my lucid moments are full of chaos mix". a little long i know, but it really was the first thing that came to mind when i was actually putting it together in my ipod. we can call it "lucid moments mix" for short if you'd like.

7 jam - clutch
never be the same - social burn
let's fly - melissa ferrick
mouth - bush
angels or devils - dishwalla
running to stand still - u2
dance, dance, christa paffgen - anberlin
Goddam right it's a beautiful day - ween
diary of jane - breaking benjamin
magical colors (31 flavors) - the jon spencer blues explosion
my Goddess - the exies
drive - melissa ferrick

if you take the time to actually read the post that's linked up above, you'll see the playlist from the mix that my shado gave me. it you look closely, you will see that several songs made it to lucid moments too...

you can always go home, right? (part 2)

magic. it was like magic seeing him again. maybe because i had just assumed that we may never cross paths again. not realizing until recently, that sometimes you have to give the universe a little shove back – sometimes you have to choose to be friends with someone, or not. robb is definitely worth a little pushing match.

he is still the same, but a grown man at the same time. he always had a special way of looking at me, like he could really see me. he always made me feel safe, and he always made me want to be a better person. he is a giver. if he loves you, he loves you forever and he always tries to see the good in everyone he knows – even if you’re not his favorite person at the time. he was always my friend. he even seemed at times to be like my big brother even though he’s three years younger. and when i needed him, when i called him after 3 years of not speaking for whatever reason, when i told him i was ready to come home after 10 years, when i needed a friend to be next to me during scary moments this past weekend, he never asked why, he just stepped back into place.

after visiting with his parents, we picked up the vw bus that he keeps at their house. at some point i looked at the necklace hanging from the rearview mirror, i knew i had seen it before. i kept staring until robb asked if i knew what it was – so i picked it up, looked at it up close and personal, ran my fingers over the beads and knots – it was the hairwrap i had in my hair my freshman year in college. i had forgotten that i gave it to him – then i remembered, he had worn it for a long time as a necklace then hung it in his jetta. when he got the bus, it found a new home. i looked from the necklace to robb in speechless disbelief, a smile across both our mouths, tears welling in my eyes…and here i thought nobody even noticed i was gone.

you can always go home, right? (part 1)

after 10 years of not going home...and no i don't mean my parents house, i mean the place where i grew up. my parents moved the summer after i graduated from high school. when i finished college, i disappeared... after 10 years, i decided it had been long enough, that the demons had chased me as far as i was willing to go, that it was time to do some damage of my own...

it was about 9 hours to the border, another 3 til i would be home.


but i knew i was in the right place when i looked up and saw this.

maybe tomorrow?

today was the first time since peanut died that i have been able to clean my house. i don’t know if i consciously knew i had been avoiding it, but i had. i finally swept the hardwood floors, finding peanut’s whiskers in the mix of his hair and dust. i’ve been collecting his whiskers since he was just a baby – i’m not sure why, i just always picked them up and smiled, knowing he had been in that place – like good luck, or maybe good love. i vacuumed the cobwebs from the ceiling, vacuumed and shook out the carpets, dusted the furniture...my whole body hurts – i’m still recovering from last week’s sudden motivation to do yard work, lots and lots of yard work...i finally threw away the remaining cat food and actually scrubbed out the container that held it for so many years...

but i still couldn’t bring myself to clean the room where peanut died. i go in that room all the time, i just haven’t been able to bring myself to wash the bedspread yet – with the last of peanut’s hair in the spot that he liked to sleep in, in the window...i couldn’t vacuum, i couldn’t dust, i couldn’t do anything in that room, yet...

i still see him everywhere, am still reminded of him daily, still miss him everyday. today catfish was in the basement moving things around, he took me down to show me...there on the floor, from the work we had done last year, in the cement over by the sump-pump, were peanut’s footprints...even now, now that he is gone, he is still in my life, still finding ways to let me know he was here...

maybe tomorrow i’ll clean that room...maybe not though.

were you born between 1930-1979?

disclaimer: i hate getting forwarded emails, let's just get that out of the way right now, shall we?! but sometimes, and i stress the sometimes, my mom will send me one that i actually read. today she sent the following...and it actually made me laugh...and it actually made me smile...and i wrote her and thanked her for being my mom...and it made me feel like maybe i'm a pretty good mom too, sometimes. oh, and i hate jay leno, but even his little quote made me giggle a bit.


TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED the 1930's, 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's!!

First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they were pregnant. They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-based paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention, the risks we took hitchhiking.

As infants & children, we would ride in cars with no car seats, booster seats, seat belts or air bags.

NO ONE actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank Kool-Aid made with sugar, but we weren't overweight because...WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Play stations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 150 channels on cable, no video movies or DVD's, no surround-sound or CD's, no cell-phones.

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.

We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.

We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls and, although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.

Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

These generations have produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever! The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas. We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL!

If YOU are one of them . . . CONGRATULATIONS!
You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated so much of our lives for our own good and while you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave (and lucky) their parents were.

Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?!

The quote of the month is by Jay Leno:
"With hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunderstorms tearing up the country from one end to another, and with the threat of bird flu and terrorist attacks, are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance?"