CREATE & STYLE: The Collection

There are many things that I collect. As a direct descendant of a pack-rat (hi, Mom!) it is in my blood to keep, stash, store and treasure those things that I adore most. This usually includes a wide range of goodies, such as: friends, books, wine, photographs, jewelry, old magazines, ballet flats, coffee mugs, magnets, perfume, handbags, bud vases and voicemails.

This photo encapsulates so many of the things I love. A few rows of lovely wine, which I often discover during memorable dinners out with friends and then go and find for my home collection. A stack of thick books to prop up the lamp. A photo that always reminds me of the moment we took it and how much fun we were having. And the wine rack itself, which I triumphantly painted a deep violet after getting frustrated with a never ending search for the perfect place to store my bottles and finally deciding to just do it my damn self.

All grouped into one colorful little area that makes a trip up the stairs well worth the effort and occasional huffing.

Singing her praise

Here she is folks. My friend, my work-wife, the one that I can have a full conversation with through a series of squints and eyebrow lifts...Stacy.

There are a million reasons why she is the greatest, but one in particular is something that is just so...her. She likes to send cryptic messages via texting that say things like, "Just bought us concert tickets for the 14th. You WILL be there." Then she refuses to let you pay her back for the tickets, because according to her, you had no choice in the matter and were forced into a fabulous evening against your will. As though the whole event was soley to entertain herself.

At the end of weeks in Europe this fall, there were only two viable reasons for returning to the land of George W. Bush; seeing Teen again and the long-distance promise of a surprise concert with Stacy.

Concert + drinks + friend = FU-UUN.

Tomorrow night she, Adriann and I will be going to see Kate Nash in Hollywood. Another one of Stacy's text message surprises. And I cannot wait.

The journey is the reward

Here's the thing: I'm tenacious when it comes to doing what I've set out to do. I moved to California almost three years ago by myself - no friends, no idea what I was doing, only the resolve that I would figure it all out and make it work. It turns out that figuring it out and making it work is a never-ending adventure.

After all this time, I still think to myself on a disturbingly regular basis, "What am I doing? How do I still not have a plan?" I'm all about plans; not having one drives me insane. But the little devil on my shoulder is constantly reminding me that the unplanned events in my life have usually been the most fun. So, I try to take a deep breath and go with the flow. Maybe a couple deep breaths...

Two weeks ago I gave up the fight at work at 8:00 p.m. for the third night in a row and dragged my tired self out into the dark night toward my car. Since my phone doesn't get any reception in the office, it beeped back to life in the freedom of the outdoors that I had a voicemail. It was Teen. "Hey, you want to go to Nugget's this weekend? Let me know. We'd leave on Friday night." I hung up, dialed Teen and responded with an unwavering, "Of course. I'm in. Hmmm... I'm going to need to find my bikini..."

That Friday night when I finally arrived in Palm Springs I was met with an 80's dance party, a glass of wine and a smorgasbord of gas station candy bars. Things were looking up...

The next morning we sat with our hosts pouring over the morning papers and cups of coffee before heading out to the Jacuzzi in the front yard to take advantage of the crisp desert morning air. As the jets worked on the small of my back and I laughed with Nugget and Teen while constantly throwing the dog his tennis ball, I realized that I wasn't having to remind myself to take those deep breaths.

The rest of that Saturday passed by in a blur of swimming laps, cannon balls, grilled shrimp and blended margaritas, reggae and disco blaring through the house and yard, moments of dozing on pool floats and relaxing in the late afternoon shade with a couple of Coronas while wrapped up in beach towels. If only every day could be so wonderful...

By the time we were having pre-dinner cocktails and watching the sunset, I was totally exhausted; truly relaxing can really wear a girl out! But it was the good kind of tired - the kind where you want nothing more than to stay seated, sipping champagne and grinning through heavy eyelids.

On the drive home Sunday night I realized that I may not have the husband and the kids that so many of my friends are starting to acquire. And maybe I am still fighting and pushing to reach that turning point in my career, but I am constantly collecting experiences...and I remain hopeful that someday I will have that husband and those 2.2 kids. And just maybe, for 10 minutes of their lives, they will be impressed that crazy Uncle Nugget has a fancy award and that I've tested out just how hard it is to raise it above my head in mock-triumph (though by that time, Auntie Teen will probably have a whole house full of them herself)...maybe they'll think it's cool that mom and Auntie Teen used to jump in the car for weekend adventures in Palm Springs and San Diego...or maybe not.

For now though, I'll just keep reminding myself that the current stretch of my path seems to have me in the role of a wanderer - collecting stories, friends, pictures and experiences in a million different destinations. And when I put it like that, well, that doesn't sound too bad at all. Deep breath...

"To dream of the person you would like to be is to waste the person you are."

Why?

Because right now things feel out of control and for the past few days it seems life has passed by in a haze of americanos, spreadsheets and conference calls.

Because it's almost the weekend, and that means that I get to spend more time with Teen.

Because sometimes it's nice to be back in the shadows laughing and dancing.

Because when I saw it tonight, this picture made me laugh on a day when almost nothing else did.

Because, hey, why not?

There's no place like home

It started sometime last week. I was rushing around the house trying to make coffee, put on my shoes, pack a lunch and track the time on the stove clock so that I could get to work just a mere 20 minutes late...when it hit me.

I don't want to do this.

I don't want to rush off to my thankless job. And I don't want to drive to the valley to do it. I don't even want to be in California right now. I just want to be home. I want a lazy morning with my Mom and Popi drinking multiple cups of coffee at The Bean followed by a stop at the Co-Op and eventually an early evening with my feet up while sitting on the deck listening to the birds chirp their arrival back for the summer season...

And therein lies that annoying saying of the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence proving to be true.

And since I sometimes like to fancy myself as both an adult and a professional, I squashed all my homegrown Stillwater, Minnesota longings, poured some almond milk into my coffee, drove over the hill and walked into another 11-hour day of marketing madness.

Then today during the same make-the-coffee-put-on-the-ballet-flats routine, my phone rang. The screen read Mom's Cell...she probably thinks I'm on the road already, but I'm late...as always. Do I answer, or do I call her back? I answered. I'm a daredevil like that.

Mom: Oh, hiya Sara Lynne! Listen, I'm at Aveda right now...
Me: Hi, mom.
Mom: and I know you said you wanted one of their mascaras... but they have TWO mascaras!
Me: (under my breath) Huh? Wha?...Need. Coffee.
Mom: So, there's a Mosscara and a Mascara. One thickens and one lengthens.
Me: I use the Mosscara. In Black Forrest, please.
Mom: Oh yeah? Sooo, you knew there were 2, didya?
Me: Huh? No. I just looked at it last night. It said Mosscara Black Forrest.
Mom: Oh, ok then.
Me: And thanks for getting that for me mom!
Mom: You bet. No problem. You have a good day, ok?

I hung up the phone, and there it was again. The urge to get in the car, drive to LAX and fly home for a little R&R, Mom and Popi style. I don't know if this is a normal affliction among others, but if not, then I blame it on them. I blame them for being too fabulous in the role of parents, thereby making me long to return to them whenever times get rough.

Wait...isn't the first thing crazy people do is blame their parents?

Crap.