You are missed, my friend.

I lost you. I don’t know how it happened, and I am not sure how to get you back. My days are harder now that you are gone. Quieter – in that ‘empty quiet’ kind of way. This is the worst kind of ending, abrupt and unexpected, where everything reminds me of you… even the song on the radio…right…now. I have been through this before. Haven’t we all? That agonizing heartbreak period when you swear not to put yourself through such disappointment again. Yet, here we are. I never expected us to end up apart.

If you’re with someone else tonight and all of sudden miss my touch… please come home. This time, things will be different. I won’t demand that you entertain my every whim without appreciating how valuable you are. No more abandoning you when you feel rundown and need me most… you’ve never done that to me. Darling, you have been some of the best company I’ve had in years. This time around, I promise to give you only the best of what I have.

The thing is, I think anyone would agree that we have worked well together these last few years. We’ve traveled the world extensively without one moment of tension- that is so rare! Your willingness to back me up, no matter where we were or what the situation may have been, staggers me. I know you probably felt disregarded when I got busy, or when friends came around… please know that at the end of the night, it was always you.

Just because I couldn’t hold onto you forever doesn’t change how you have shaped me. I still remember that rainy night in Florida when I held you, tears spilling from my face onto yours, while you quietly sang me an acoustic version of Griffin House’s “Only Love Remains”. Only the two of us could hear, and in that private moment, I realized with unshakeable certainty that as long as you were around, I’d be okay.

I know that my blog is relatively new and my readership is painfully limited at this time, so you may never know how much I loved you. I suppose I write this more for me than for you.

Nevertheless, if somehow, in some way, my message finds you, please know that I would do great things to have you close to me now.

Moment of silence for you, my beloved iPod. Though I may find another down the road, you could never truly be replaced.

Irony

Within a ten minute span:

A guy six years my junior informs me that “women your age want children yesterday.”

A friend calls me hysterically sobbing (barely heard over equally distraught baby wail in the background) because her newborn just spray-pooped all over her, she hasn’t slept in two weeks and all she dreams about is having time to take a shower.

 

funny how…

…but I managed to run into you yesterday while in a shambolic state of post-workout disarray. That is to say, an utter sweat-festival. But it’s not about looks, right? RIGHT?

via Ffffound!

girl’s night

(talking about rectifying an old “friendship”)

me: pretty cool that we can talk now and it’s so easy.

abbie: wait… is he the cyclist?

me: no no, he’s the one I met by wrapping my scarf around his neck, tra-la-la-ing around H-Wood, champagne, holding hands through the art show, then broke my heart… you know, cold sweats, slow death, blah blah…

abbie: oh right. i was there for that.

me: yeah, can’t believe we are friends now.

abbie: what’s the cyclist’s name again?

me: i forgot.

abbie: GOOD.

(LAUGHTER) Amen.

 

email from spawn child

(email i just sent mom explaining her late birthday gift):

Dearest Mother-Of-All-Mothers,

Your birthday gift is en route.

I must take this moment to warn you that it is flying over many states and as it has been collectively considered by the minds of yours truly and an equally imaginative (some may call it mischievous) brother of mine, this gift may wander a bit, getting distracted by good fly-fishing (from cooper’s side) and delicious Kombucha (me me me), likely acquiring a few friends along the way and therefore drinking and telling stories until the dawn breaks (and then potentially making out if they are good-looking and Italian- cooper’s side of course)… and you see, I have pleaded with it to be mindful of the fact that this is a very important birthday – NO minor celebration- (I literally had to repeat “60TH BIRTHDAY” countless times, as after seeing recent pictures of you, it refused to believe in the number “60″. That’s really the point when all sense of urgency waned dramatically and the trouble began)…

This is all to say that if it should be an errant little shit, and arrive a day or two late because of selfish wayfaring tendencies, know that it’s not my fault or Cooper’s. As I said, it spawned from the collective considerations of two inherently autonomous childs with one independent, free-spirited mother… and may be using a mind of its own on this particular pilgrimage.

However, it will find you. And though it may proffer a few feeble excuses, overshadowed (it hopes) by a few charming anecdotes from said journey, know that what it really wants to say is HAPPPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE GREATEST WOMAN AND MOTHER AROUND.

And then it will make itself at home with no plans of departure, giving it the true Rounds hallmark.

All the love and more -
spawn child.

The most romantic night that never happened

An email from friend Lee Miles – his dream sequence:

“I just woke up from one of the most terrifying, haunting, beautiful, funny, sad, crazy, relentless stream of mind movies I’ve had in a while. I have to tell you about it… well the part that concerns you at least. So you and Carolyne were on tour with me and you were playing piano. We were in this crazy caravan….all of us!

We kept driving into the desert farther and farther and I kept asking, “hey where the hell are we?” Then we stopped at this crazy motel which had a merry-go-round in it and we rode it while bellhops checked everything in.

Then a roadie said, “Guys, LA is gone and the blast wave is going to be here in 3 minutes.” We ran outside and saw this huge blooming mushroom cloud and started freaking out. I said, “no, LETS HIDE!” to which Carolyne responded, “NO IT’S GOING TO BE BEAUTIFUL!”

So we ran around the back of the building and found a basement door (Carolyne refused to come!). We went down inside (just you and I) and waited. Then the earth began to shake and we were holding each other… it was terrifying. Then it got calm.

We finally went up out of the basement. Outside were lush gardens, a waterfall and some of the most beautiful birds flying in the sky we had ever seen. But everyone was gone.

You and I lived there for a long time in my mind- what seemed like a year. It was as if this blast either put us back in time or somehow made this beautiful environment.

Ahh the crazy mind! Have you ever been in love with someone in your dream? Jess …in my dream we totally made out under this waterfall. I know that sound nuts but…It happened in my dream, and I gotta tell you I think THAT kiss (that never even happened) was one of the most butterflied fairytale weird lovey feelings I’ve ever had.

During this kiss of grand wizardry I was woken by a car alarm. I gotta go to work now. Reality. Just was compelled to tell you since I feel like we just survived a nuclear ‘happening’ together.”

Letter from Austen

Here’s an entertaining excerpt from the letter I just received from my best girl, Austen. She’s living in Lancaster, England now:

“…It has been a typical first month in a foreign country- lonely really. I charge my phone about 1x/week. The battery never dies because no one ever calls me. I have been avoiding interactions at the bank, the T-Mobile store, and the bus station, because I am tired of feeling like I have 2 heads. Sometimes I know the person helping me in a restaurant/store/bar is being rube but I feel obligated to continue being polite so as not to further tarnish the reputation of all Americans.

The past few days I have buried myself in trip planning. It’s been a wonderful distraction. The conversation with Google Search goes something like this:

Me: Where should we go in Tuscany?
Google: “Tuscany Tourism”
Me: (click and stare for 2 to 42 min at crappy Italian Tuscany websites)
Google: “Tuscany towns to visit: Florence, Lucca, Pisa, Sienna, Cinque Terre”
Me: (clicking on images) Oh look at this. This is so cool. Oh wow, such cool buildings. Oh it looks a little cloudy in this picture. I can’t tell if it seems nice or dingy. This site said it was nice. But that was from 2008. That’s only three years ago. I wonder if there are good restaurants here.
Google: “Lucca restaurants”

AND what do you know? All of a sudden its 4pm, getting dark, I haven’t been outside all day, I feel like a blob, and worse, I am wasting my time in England on the Internet.

On the flip side, my “activities” are working out well. I have Spanish class on Monday nights. It’s funny to listen to British people speak Spanish with a British accent. My teacher is from Peru. She is absolutely lovely and disorganized. We receive numerous unrelated handouts each class that seem to serve little purpose.

On Wednesdays I have a ceramics class. I am working on making a friendly monster sculpture– was tired of throwing ugly mugs on the wheel. So switched to something where being ugly is a bonus.

On Wednesday evenings, I go to Scottish dance with the 70+ crowd. There are people there well into their 80s dancing. Its like square dancing, but to Scottish music and everything is in a pattern. I’m constantly “reeling” the wrong way or giving my hand to the wrong “corner partner”. They tell me I’m doing well, but I think they just like having a young person there. It’s fun to do something completely new and I enjoy living in a British sitcom for a few hours a week. Oh and we stop halfway through class for tea and biscuits…naturally.

I’m playing on the Lancaster City soccer team. Practice is Thursdays, and games on Sundays. I’m the second oldest…most of the girls are 19-21 (insert smiley face). Fun to be part of a team- I think I’ll really enjoy it. Great exercise, love sports of course. The girls can be a bit caddy and standoff-ish, but they’re 19 and warm up a bit more each time.

One last thing, maybe you know this, British fashion is appalling. Who am I to talk really? But I have seen more Laura Ashley floral prints here than I have in my lifetime. Not to mention that usually the floral print is barely covering a mildly overweight ass. And then, 6-inch heels, and a polka dot hand bag. HELP ME. I’m truly afraid to get my hair cut here…”

Letter to Austen

Letter to my best girl Austen who recently moved abroad:

“Hi Sauce,

Loved your letter and your gift. I was just thinking about how much I wanted to hear about your life right now, and even though your card was void of specifics, I got the picture. And I do know the exact ups and downs of what you described. Anyplace new, anyplace foreign… well, c’mon there are wonderful surprises and some shitty ones just to keep things interesting. Like, who knew I would get free housing in Costa Rica!?!?!! And who also knew that the bed would be a 4 foot piece of foam and I would be sharing the space with cockroaches?! Well, you’ve lived in Africa, so I’m hardly telling you anything you don’t already know…

So, 30th birthday evening was fun last night. Had a lovely dinner with the LA tribe. Then Carolyne and I decided to go out on the town and still managed to take a cab home by midnight (sign of the changing times) only to find we were locked out. Many shenanagans later… involving Carolyne stepping in dogdoo and traipsing through the neighbors house so she could shimmy from their balcony to ours, only to find that door locked as well, then shimmying back to the wrong balcony and thus barging into a random neighbor’s house where everyone screamed in unison and Carolyne cried out, “I meant to come through a different balcony!” (because that doesn’t sound weird at all)… throw in some hysterical fits of laughter and then suppressed grief because we were cold and hopeless… to Big Brother Coop coming to the rescue and lending us the spare couch. He was also then kind enough to cart us to Starbucks in the morning while we begroaned the imminent locksmith fee, and even walked us to our door where… yes… he pushed lightly and it yawned widely open. NOT.EVEN.KIDDING. So, good to know turning 30 hasn’t precluded ridiculous tales.

Okay, love thee beyond. Fill me in with at least one specific… I know you have one in there.

Always,
jess”

Getting hot and bendy

Bikram Yoga class (aka, turning into a sweaty mess for 90 minutes in a 110 degree room) has become a favorite in my routine. Not only is it rewarding physically and mentally, but it has proven to be a tireless source of entertaining anecdotes.

Today in class was no exception.

During a resting pose, the teacher read the following quote by Stephen R. Covey:

You have to decide what your highest priorities are and have the courage—pleasantly, smilingly, nonapologetically, to say “no” to other things. And the way you do that is by having a bigger “yes” burning inside. The enemy of the “best” is often the “good.”

Just as I was contemplating how I might apply that gem of a datum, she added:

For example, I love beer. But sometimes I just say “NO!” because I don’t want to throw up in Camel Pose.

Nice. Good to know that there is nothing moralistic about being a yogi.

This happened.

Okay, so I woke myself up saying, “Ohhhh I loooooooove it for you!”

Then remembered my dream*:

Abigail (via cell phone): “Jess! God, how are you babe?”
Me (carrying unweildy bags in a random neighborhood with big houses): “I’m good! Christ, just realized that I’m parked illegally in someone’s driveway and so need to go back and move my car to the street. How are things with you?”
Abigail (*happy sigh*): “Oh man… I just had to say that things with Coop are SO good.”
Me: “No way! tell me.”
Abigail: “I don’t know. This morning, he turned to me, took my hand, and said, ‘you know what Abigail, enough is enough. I want us to start having sex in the dumpster like we used to.’”
Me: “Ohhhh I loooooooooove it for you!”

*Note: This was a dream, which apparently I need to reiterate, as one friend missed that fact and was trying to understand how Abigail would be into “that”, as well as the logistics of dumpster sex. Dream. It was a dream.