A Big Life Ahead of Me

Current: San Diego, CA Today
Next: Pasadena, CA Monday, San Francisco, CA Tuesday-Sunday.

I thought I'd put where I am first this time around. It's been an emotional weekend for me in San Diego where I grew up. It usually is every time I come back, but the longer it is between visits, the more it gets to me. The concept of home. Wondering where my home will be. And knowing full well that it will probably never be anywhere else than when I'm in the presence of a few people whose love has moved me.

I always feel closest to my brother when he's reading my blog. It started when he was reading Written Road wile I was on my Sand in My Bra tour a few years back. Last night, when I first saw him at my Uncle Jon's retirement party one of the first things he said was, "I've been reading your blog, where've you been the past few days?"
"Driving here yesterday, and visiting with the family today!" We both laughed.
"You're starting to sound like a blog reader now, Jason." I said. "Addicted and demanding."
He laughed and agreed that he was kind of going through withdrawals.

So, here's where I've been:
Thursday: Staying at Paris Las Vegas and watching the last night of the World Series of Poker. Jamie Gold, a Hollywood agent from Malibu won the $12 million.
Friday: Took my friend Stephen from Gutshot.com to the Original Pancake House followed by a shopping spree at the Gambler's Bookshop. Then it took me 5-6 hours to drive down the 15 to San Diego where I took a shower and went straight to bed.
Saturday: Breakfast at Cocos with my 85year old grandparents. Then Popo and I went and got our nails done and did some shopping before the retirement party. I also visited with my friend Heather who said, "Why didn't you fold that last hand?" surprising me with the knowledge that she and her brother had watched the PokerDome show on TV. When I left, her toddler didn't want me to leave. Another surprise considering I was terribly self indulgent and did more talking with Heather than playing with the kids. Guilt!
Sunday: Breakfast and Monopoly with Jacob's family. Good talks with Judy. And this is when it started. This was the tough part. Leaving and wondering about the rest of my life. Where we're going to end up, when we'll have kids, and am I really making the right decision by my consistent steadfastness to live anywhere but San Diego. John loved it here. The coastal air, having breakfast overlooking the Ocean in La Jolla. We talked about how to make our lives better and the interesting part about that was that he needed to do less to have a better life, and I just wanted to do more.

The sadness. In all post summer sentimentality, I started to feel the pangs of life. The desire to build an even more fulfilling future, and the saddening trip into memories when I spent more time outside. I miss the days when I had a suburau wagon 4x4 with a Thule bike rack on top. When I'd go camping in Yosemite with friends. When I'd make banana nut bread and go for a hike that I was barely fit to make. When I'd bike. We were having lunch above the La Jolla cove, watching the kayakers, swimmers, and boaters. I wondered if I'd ever make the effort to do that if we lived here. I'm absolutely certain that I'd be happier if I could be outside more, but connecting A to B is sometimes the hardest part. I love dancing, too. But I dare you to try and get me out there without four drinks or the jaws of life.

The good part. The good part is that life is spot on right now. Everything is great with John, and I am truly blessed to have him in my life. We both feel very fortunate. But I swear it's a beast of a job not to take my new life with him for granted. It is so hard. It hasn't been much more than a year, but already I have to think hard to remember how lost and unhappy I was before hand. My time in Europe, oh boy. I was a mess. But I still had so much love in my life. Jacob and Judy asked me to write a book about what I've learned from all the families I've lived with over the years. This time it made sense. I could mix it with my How Not to Catch a Man book and call it Last One to The Altar or Last One to the Labor Room. A comedic memoir of an unconventional woman.

Anyway, I could write and write, but another meal calls. We're off to a Prime Rib dinner to celebrate my Popo's 85th bday. Life is good.