Chronic Ama

Today was the perfect overcast spring day for an adventure. I'm beginning to want to explore again. I have all these ideas and a growing destination list that begins right around the corner. I better get started, so here's my take on a little afternoon adventure before the summer hear set in.  We started the day at Mercado San Agustin, mostly because we were hungry and partly because I had been craving something from Seis Kitchen. Breakfast tacos are an odd concept to me, but my mouth watered as the chorizo and sriracha hit my palate. I cleaned my plate and washed down the spicy goodness with an icy jamaica, which I hadn't had for a long time. It's my favorite, even over horchata. Jamaica is a Mexican drink, or agua fresca, made with hibiscus flowers. It's dark pink and sweet and refreshing. Full bellies called for some walking. I finally got to visit the MSA Annex, up the block from Mercado San Agustin. It's a trendy little outdoor shopping and dining

Man, I just gotta love when I feel the need to record some of my musings and then this lovely blogger program eats all my words and refuses to spit them back out.  I was reflecting on the face that I feel complete for the first time in a weeks. I feel like I can let go and just be happy and content. There are no lingering tasks at hand like sorting out looming finances or making sure the fridge is full again and we're not out of toothpaste. The kitchen is clean and dishes are put away and I'm not even worried about the upcoming lunch, snack and dinner messes. Laundry isn't piled up taller than my youngest and the cat box no longer is emitting cartoonish green essences into the air. My garden is not dead. The pool still has water. There are no overdue library books hidden in the depths of a child's sanctuary.  I have allowed myself some time to be pulled out of the mundane daily world and, in sharp contrast, put into the world I love. The one that never ceases t

I'm afraid of moving forward, which is exactly why I do it every day. I think that's what drives our nostalgia and love of the past. It has to be fear of the future with a nod to our own existential debate. Often internal, and more often lived out each day. I wonder why I'm here a lot lately. I wonder why I keep going. I keep writing waiting to find some sort of epiphany, that one idea to make everything right, to make everything ok. I keep writing to find that connection, the thing I'm going to love doing, the person that says I made a difference for them, the end to my worries. I lay here in bed thinking of all the things I want to do for myself. I'd love to get a hair cut that didn't involve 5 minutes in my bathroom with a plastic trash can and a pair of hair shears that came with an electric trimmer as a bonus. The idea of a beautiful hair cut and maybe even some color is so distant to me. I could really use a massage, but time eludes me when I have

About an hour and a half drive from midtown Tucson is indeed a summer haven for those brutal Tucson summer temps. At the top of Mount Lemmon lies the town of Summerhaven. With temperatures at least 20 degrees cooler, hiking trails and restaurants, it's the perfect summer day trip for locals and visitors. We had the perfect day trip in July, during monsoon season. We got to Summerhaven early enough to enjoy a short hike on the trail at the end of Turkey Run, aptly named for the wild turkeys roaming around in the early morning and calling out through the day. We stopped to photograph a fairy garden and leave our own momentos for other passerbys to enjoy. It was at least 25 degrees cooler than down in Tucson, which was a nice break from the dry heat. After building up an appetite, we walked to the Cookie Cabin for a carb fuelled lunch of giant pizzas, decadent oversized cookies and calzones that took an extra while longer to arrive. Waiting outside at a picnic tabl

The unbearably hard pull out bed was my constant reminder of all the times he did this for me. The lack of sleep I was already familiar with. My son said it smelled too much like hospital. I guess that's the only way yo describe this place.  We officially started Mark's Bionic Back Journey on the morning of June 3rd. It was a Monday. The Monday-est Monday that ever Monday-ed. No, really. Who the hell wants to start off their week with a large incision into their lower back to fuse to vertebrae together? I sure as shit don't wanna. I think two C-sections, a hysterectomy and a plethora of other surgeries have been a sufficient quota.  How did we get here? Well, around January 2018, Mark threw his back out (my husband, for those of you not totally in the know). It was actually a normal occurrence in his life (and mine too, I guess). I can recall plenty of times I've had to help him into the tub or out of a chair because said back was thrown out. This time was

Lately I'm super drawn to all these "mom" shows and I had no clue why. Then it hit me tonight while watching the new Christina Applegate Netflix joint. I like that I'm part of this eclectic generation of moms. You know the metal head moms, the goth moms, the crafty moms, the wine moms, the soccer moms, the working moms, the stay home moms, the 5k running moms, the love to bake moms, career moms, and every and all combos of such groupings. We are so far removed from wearing pearls to vacuum, but some of us still do and that's pretty cool too. Let's just leave all those wierd Jell-o dishes alone and reorganize our "ain't fucking cooking tonight" menus.  I like that moms are into having mom friends. You know, that other mom you can text about needing to hit that parent teacher conference with a shot of Baileys in your iced coffee. Not because your kid is being a jerk or because the teacher is reminiscent of a turn of the century school marm, bu

We caught the rain on the way back from Phoenix this afternoon. It was the usual day trip to see my pelvic pain and surgery specialist. This visit was far from usual. I caught myself wanting to pull over or, at the very least, stick my head out the car window and feel the cold hard rain wet my hair and pelt my carefully painted face. I wanted to physically wash away the worry and stress that came with these trips. I wanted just to feel the world around me from this new perspective. I have no where to go but up now. It may be that I have reached the pivotal point in my health where I may be in the clear from the recurrence of endo. The bleeding lesions may never appear again. I truly wish this to be with a degree of foreseeable certainty, but I'll take the large chance I now have of never seeing this brutal disease grow inside me again. And that small sliver of uncertainty and doubt can go in the trash. Really. I don't need that doubt. I need the clarity. I'm moving on f