We live in Southern California. Spouse and I are both born and raised Californians. He went to college in Arizona, but other than that, neither of us have lived anywhere but California. Never felt the need nor desire to leave our beloved state, particularly where we live now. I mean where else can you go from the beach to the desert to the mountains in one day? Plus, beach. I don’t really need to say more, unless you hate the beach, which then I would get. But, two years ago in March, we bought a lake house in Tennessee. And I absolutely love it.
We have to fly four hours to Nashville, then get a rental car and drive 90 minutes to get to our lake house. I know – it doesn’t make much sense. Why here? There are plenty of lake houses closer to San Diego than here. Spouse does have an office in Franklin, TN. That’s really what started us coming out here to begin with. We’ve talked about a vacation/mountain/beach/lake house for years. That discussion began when we started lakefront/beach front bargain hunt renovation shows on HGTV. It made me realize how much I wanted that life, that kind of retreat. I didn’t think it would really ever be in the cards for us until we started coming to TN for his work, and then just started looking around at lakes out here, and casually researching the realty websites. Almost four years ago, we spent four days on the lake we now have a house, in an Airbnb, just checking out the lake and the area. I fell in love. We started actively looking. Then Spouse decided our resources were better spent elsewhere. I mean WHY would we fly four hours and then drive nearly two more to get to a second home? I put it out of my mind, until Christmas 2023, when one of my gifts was a site map of a potential property. I cried…..our retreat, our vacation spot, a place to bring family and friends and create memories. Three months later, we were signing papers, not on that property on that site map he’d given me, but on a house that came fully furnished and stocked with linens and every kitchen supply you’d need. It had belonged to a couple just a bit older than us – a second home for their family to come together and just be, before the patriarch had a sudden, widow-maker heart attack and passed. The home they’d created felt designed just for us. We met Maggie, the previous owner, the first weekend we spent here. We promised her it would be a place of family, fun, friends, making memories. We have a photo of their family hanging in a spot of honor in the house. She has a photo of our group the first Memorial Weekend we were here.
We’re in Tennessee this week. Spouse had a conference for work, and visited his office here as well. We spent two days in Nashville. Yesterday, we drove down to our house to get it ready for the upcoming holiday weekend when family and friends will again join us for a long weekend on the lake. As we drove yesterday, I began to feel a peace I feel in few places in the world – home, my parents’ house in Arizona, whenever we visit any island in Hawaii, and now here. First of all, Tennessee is so green. California can be green, but much of the summer, the hills around us turn brown in the heat. Not so here. Second, it’s just slower here. Third, it is DARK and so quiet where we live on the lake. There aren’t a ton of streetlights, there isn’t any speakable road noise like we have on even the quietest nights at home. The first night here, I woke in the middle of the night and thought I’d lost my vision – it was pitch black in our bedroom, and completely silent. Fourth – any time I can be on, in or near water, my soul is just happy.
I think that’s the deal – why something that makes no sense on paper makes complete sense. My whole system relaxes when I’m here. I can breathe. I can just be. I have peace, especially when I’m here, surrounded by so many people I love, creating memories and just living in the same space for a few days. There are books, games, lake floatin, meals together, watching baseball, talking, walks, and 27-second hugs (iykyk). Why would we buy a lake house in Tennessee when we live in Southern California? This is why.
I was born and raised in the Lutheran Church. Baptized at nine years old, confirmed at thirteen years old. Served as an acolyte for years, was in the Youth Choir, then later sang on the worship team until we had two babies and moved from Northern CA to Southern CA.
“And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord.”
My best friend through Middle and High Schools was a Baptist preacher’s daughter. We went to youth group on Wednesday nights, church Sunday morning and evening, church camp in the Summer and Winter, and I attended a private Christian college my first two years of undergrad.
“I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Christian church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.”
When we moved to San Diego, we joined a Lutheran Church. I needed the familiar. It never felt like a church home, however. Little Man was baptized there. I sang in the choir for a bit. But when the church became political (advising how we should vote and whom we should vote for if we were “good Lutherans”) we left. We began attending a non-denominational church that grew out of a CoC, and for a good number of years, it felt like a solid spiritual home, for me anyways. Well, mostly. It’s difficult when you slowly become the only person in your family practicing an active faith.
I began to hear uncomfortable and discomforting things during the 2016 election – not necessarily in the church I was attending, but in the Christian community in general. The conservative Christian community I’d known since high school was becoming….way more conservative, to the point of extreme. For some, it was a one-issue decision, which I couldn’t understand given EVERYTHING else on a certain candidate’s platform that was decidedly un-Christian. The person we’d never thought could even make it through the primaries was now the candidate, and then elected. Things got ugly. The excuses and adamance I heard from the Christian community in support of him stymied me. I couldn’t grasp, couldn’t understand. This man seemed the furthest thing from Christian, and almost immediately following the inauguration in 2017, the policies put in place by the administration didn’t feel very Christ-like. I wanted reassurance in my church community this was not Christian behavior. I heard nothing, or at least not enough to make me feel like I wasn’t losing my mind or over-reacting.
2020 arrived, and with it, Covid with the fear, the shutdowns, the rules. Church moved online, understandably. I appreciated the efforts of my church to stay engaged with its members, to keep worship going, keep sharing the message each Sunday as we churched from home via Facebook streaming. As time went on, there was quite a bit of noise within the community with regard to the lockdowns – how churches should be excluded from the rules of congregating, or that the rules were unfair, unnecessary. There was also anti-masking pushback, etc. I didn’t attend in person until spring of 2021, and was astonished. As soon as people entered the doors, masks were removed, as if Covid still wasn’t an issue. This was a community with at-risk members….very young children and babies, older members with fragile health. That didn’t seem to matter. Masks off, singing, hugging, sitting right next to people from other families/households. It felt so discordant…..this was a community that was supposed to be taking care of those who needed it most, those most at risk, a community that was supposed to care more than anyone else. I’m talking the church community in general, not just the church I was attending. Rather, they seemed to proudly flaunt their actions as “free” from government, and beyond rules because they were a church of Christian followers.
Now I have children who identify as part of the LGBTQ+ community. I haven’t always believed the church was wrong on its stance that homosexuality is a sin. I grew up in a strict purity culture that was very legalistic. As I grew into adulthood, knew more and more human beings who were gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, etc, I grew to understand their love, who they love, how they love isn’t sinful. It’s just who they are. They were created and born that way. I firmly believed they should have the same rights to marriage and life as heterosexual couples. The very first service I returned to church, the sermon was on marriage, and clearly stated that the only marriage sanctioned by God is that between one man and one woman. I sat back, stunned. I mean, I knew this was the stance, but to hear it blatantly, especially knowing I had two children at home for whom love and marriage would likely look different, my heart just hurt. It felt so wrong, almost intentionally painful, and again, not the God I believed in. I left church that day not knowing it would be one of the last times I would sit in a service, in church community. I went back maybe twice more in the spring and summer of 2021. Then I quietly left. For the first time in my life, church didn’t feel safe. It didn’t feel very Christian. It didn’t reflect what my faith was telling me was true. It didn’t seem to imitate the values of Jesus I had been raised on. I was grieving the loss of that community of faith, but I couldn’t keep going to a place that moved further and further from the God I knew. By the end of 2021, I had fully left the church. I haven’t been back.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my faith. I still pray daily. I have been lax on my Bible reading in recent years but that is personal. I engage in faith conversations with others who have struggled in recent years to connect with the church community. Evangelicalism just doesn’t feel very Christian anymore. I’ve watched the American “church” move more and more towards Christian Nationalism, and I want no part of that. It feels in the last ten years that too many Christians are giving Christians a bad name. Saying you’re a Christian who isn’t political is a) very privileged and b) actually a political choice. Christians cannot bury their heads because it’s more convenient that way, or because they don’t want to engage in debate or conversation that can be uncomfortable. Sorry for the aside.
What I’m seeing and hearing other Christians defend these days is diametrically opposed to the teachings of Jesus to do for the least of these, to love your neighbor, to care for the poor, the ill, the orphaned, the widowed, the aged. Instead, I hear and see ugliness…abusive and racist and fear-mongering behavior, in the name of Jesus. Or there is just silence where there should be yelling in the streets against these abuses. Christians should be on the front line of fighting for those who need defending, rather than standing alongside those in masks with guns who are terrorizing families, those trying to take the rights away from human beings, those stealing from those who are already without. It doesn’t make me inclined to return to the church community. I’ve thought frequently over the last two years how much I miss being in community with others of the faith. I just don’t feel the energy, the drive to search for a community that aligns with me, particularly given all that is happening in our world. I know I’m not alone.
I am unchurched. I have been unchurched. Someday, I will return, I am sure. I trust God will lead me to a community that feels like home, that feels attached to the teachings and life of Jesus. In the meantime, I remind myself that:
I believe in God the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth. And in Jesus Christ, his only Son, Our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried. He descended into Hell. On the third day He rose again from the dead. He ascended into Heaven and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty. From thence He shall come to judge the living and dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Christian Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. Amen.
I hate to do this, and maybe I’m just being paranoid. I mean really, is someone in RFK Jr’s government department going to search every blog to find autistic people? But in the name of all paranoid, protective momma’s everywhere, Three’s a Herd will be going dark for awhile….taken out of the publicly accessible realm. I cannot believe this is where we are in the year of our Lord 2025, but I will do whatever I must to protect my child. See ya on the flip side.
I didn’t read as many books in February as I did in January, which makes sense given the three fewer days in the month. But also, I read more literary fiction, which just takes more time and energy to take in. I was a little worried reading “harder” books would be a complete drain, but I actually had the opposite experience. My reading soul was so happy! Not that lighter fiction isn’t relaxing and enjoyable, I just needed a return to more-challenging book selections. Even given what’s going on in our world lately, I was still able to escape into these books.
I started the month with a book I’ve had on radar but had put off reading for a few months. I was worried it would be too difficult, too deep. In inhaled Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar. It was dark, heavy, and with difficult subject matter, but so thought-provoking. Cyrus’ parents are both dead – his mother shot down by American missiles while traveling on a commercial flight, and his father from illness. Cyrus is an addict and deeply depressed, although two years sober in the main portion of the book. He wants his death (we assume by planned suicide) to have meaning and so seeks to write a book about martyrs and martyrdom. It is an examination of life and making life have meaning. The end was unclear and ambiguous to me, which is the only reason I didn’t give it five stars. The book makes statements on government, Christianity, race and racism, homophobia, mental health, gender, art, family. “Living happened till it didn’t. There was no choice in it. To say no to a new day would be unthinkable. So each morning you said yes, then stepped into consequence.”
I moved onto Good Dirt by Charmaine Wilkerson after Marty!. This was my second book by Wilkerson, and she is becoming a go-to author. It read really quickly given the short chapters that moved around in time and POV. Ebby’s brother is murdered essentially right in front of her when she is 10 years old, and during the attempted robbery, a family heirloom is destroyed. Ebby then lives out her grief in the public eye. We jump back and forth between Ebby’s childhood, the source of this family heirloom, her family history, as well as “now” when Ebby is trying to piece her life back together, in private, away from the eyes that have been part of her life since her brother’s death. “Most of the trouble in this world boils down to one person not recognizing the worth of another.” Loved the characterization, the examination of grief, of race in America, family, family history, and slavery. Rated 5 stars.
A couple of years ago, I read The Girl With the Louding Voice by Abi Dare. I knew when her second release came out in August, it was going to be a must-read. We pick up where Dare left off with her character, Adunni, the girl who learned to use her loading voice, as well as her mentor, Tia, in And So I Roar. Tia and Adunni must go back to Ikati to defend Adunni against the charges she’s killed someone. In the course of their time there, they work towards better lives and opportunities for all women. To do so, they have to battle societal traditions and mindsets. This book is fast-paced with a lot of action, and is a bit stressful, but worth it. Focuses on family, motherhood, marriage, society, the roles of women and education. Rated 4.5 stars.
I listened to another Rebecca Yarros contemporary romance, the second in her Flight & Glory series, Eyes Turned Skyward. I liked this book more than the first in the series. Paisley has a genetic heart condition which impacts essentially every part of her life/lifestyle. Her sister died from the same condition two years previous, prompting Paisley to work her way through a bucket list. Along the way, she meets Jagger, a student at the flight school her father is currently general of, when he saves her from drowning in the ocean. Cue romance. Both have secrets they keep from each other – Paisley her heart condition, and Jagger his familial background. Loved the banter and sarcasm, the side characters are so enjoyable. You do get steam in this book, which is par for Yarros.
I am working towards being a T.J. Klune completist. I just love his work. The Bones Beneath my Skin lived up to my expectations of his writing. I just love and appreciate his dealings with grief, found family, love and relationships. This book feels like an action movie, but with a lot of emotion. I found myself in tears a couple of times. You do need to suspend reality a bit – this is, after all, a YA fantasy technically. Klune always brings his characters to life in a way they are relatable and we feel we know them. Not giving away the plot on this one, but Klune enables us to watch two damaged humans fall in love while working to protect and get home an alien. I know it sounds out there, but trust me, it’s good stuff!
Dear Edward by Ann Napolitano had been sitting on the edge of my TBR cart for probably three years. I knew it was something I should read, which is probably why I was afraid of reading it. I was worried how sad/dark it might be. It is about Edward/Eddie, the 12-year-old sole survivor of a plane crash, in which his parents and brother are killed. Taken in by his childless aunt and uncle, the story deals in the years following, in which Edward has to heal and find his way forward. Complex characters, complex emotions. We also follow some of the passengers and the entire flight of the fated plane, getting a look at Edward’s parents’ relationship in the process. Beautifully, gut-wrenchingly told story of grief/trauma of many kinds, of family, marriage, love and loss. Not a plot-fueled book, but rather, more character-driven. Rated 4.75 stars.
I started The Small & The Mighty by Sharon McMahon back in December. I try to work my way through at least one non-fiction read per month. This one just took longer with all the holidays and a VERY busy work month in January. McMahon gives us insights into the characters of our American history who don’t generally get a spotlight. I found this book very insightful, informative, and engaging. I highly recommend McMahon’s newsletter, The Preamble, as well as her social media under SharonSaysSo. I’ve joined her quarterly book club, and just find her so informative without being condescending or diving too far into the weeds.
I picked up another Yarros contemporary romance at the recommendation of a reading friend, The Things we Leave Unfinished. This may be my favorite of her contemporary romances. Yarros is very good at ripping her readers’ hearts out and crushing them. I did not see the end coming and it nearly wrecked me, in a good way. Rebecca just has a way of writing relationships. This is a multiple POV book, pretty normal for Yarros, but it’s also a dual timeline, between modern and WWII England. Georgia’s great grandmother, Gran, has died, leaving her home where Georgia grew up, and her last, unfinished manuscript to Georgia. The unfinished novel is Gran’s own unfinished love story from the war, and it had been left incomplete for a reason. But romance author Noah has been retained to write the ending. In the course, he and Georgia battle but also develop their own relationship as Gran’s secrets unfold. This was just so good.
Years ago, I read the Red Queen series by Victoria Aveyard. The books sat on my shelves with their pretty covers. And then recently I started following Aveyard on social media, and found that there’d been a fourth book released in the series. So I’m re-reading the first three before I pick up the fourth. Good thing as I’d forgotten the entire story since my first reading. I got through Red Queen pretty quickly. It is YA Fantasy, and the first book is heavy on world-building and character intro/development. It really sets the stage for the rest of the series. If you like YA fantasy, I do recommend the series. You do see a lot of similar plot mechanisms as those of other YA fantasy series…..a girl who is “normal” but then finds out she isn’t, magic separating classes/society/those with power vs those without, enemies to lovers, the lowers fighting back against the higher-ups with power to get out from under their rule, etc etc etc. It’s still enjoyable.
My local book club read Sandwich by Catherine Newman for our February selection. I’d been looking forward to reading this book since I first heard about it last May, since it sounded like my life as a middle-age woman managing baby-adult children and aging parents. It ended up being not at all what I’d expected. There wasn’t really any plot, but rather was all character. It wasn’t bad. I’m glad I read it. It was just a surprise. A shorter book, it read very quickly with very short chapters, and a timeline of one week that Rocky – the main character – and her family spend at a rental in Cape Cod, as they do every summer. This is a hard look at long-term marriage, family, aging parents, motherhood in all its glory and difficulty. I struggled with really liking the characters – maybe it hit a little too close?
What are you reading? Does your reading change with the seasons, or with what’s going on in the world? Do you prefer lighter reads, more literary fiction, non-fiction, or a mix?
My friends and I have talked a few times about which of us might survive a zombie apocalypse and why. I’ve already determined I will likely be one of the first to go, and I’m good with that. I have almost no survival skills, wouldn’t know how to make food from whatever someone else grows because I can’t garden, I hate camping anywhere other than my RV with my lovely fridge, kitchen, bathroom and shower, and can run a decent distance but not quickly. I also can’t fight with anything other than words. I have books and spreadsheets. That’s it. But I don’t think zombies are going to let me live based on my knowledge, understanding and ability to discuss the works of Shakespeare, Austen, Spencer, and Chaucer, or the latest fantasy or literary novel.
Why do I bring this up? Well, something happened night before last that had me considering the likelihood of my survival when things go very badly. Last night, our little book club (there are four of us) met at a sushi place in town. For reference, we live in San Diego county, about 45 minutes from the border. There was a protest/demonstration against the ICE raids currently going on just a block away from the restaurant, which we all heartily cheered (the protest, not the ICE raids). The intersection and streets where the restaurant sits were full of cars, music playing, people honking and chanting, signs waving. We ordered our drinks and dinner and ate while discussing our January book (Trust, by Hernan Diaz), and what’s going on in each of our lives.
Suddenly, there were loud bangs with flashes of light coming from the parking lot and street outside. People inside started yelling to call 911 and to get down. We all looked at each other like “Is this really happening?” and “What do we do?” My friend next to me yelled at them to lock the front door. My heart in my throat, my mind scrambling, the bangs went on for maybe thirty seconds (or at least it felt that long). A woman two tables over called 911. Then the bangs stopped. One man halfway between us and the door announced it was fireworks. One of the employees went outside (which didn’t seem like a smart idea, but who’s to say what people will do). A moment later, the woman on the phone said the police confirmed it was fireworks. We all took a breath.
Not gonna lie, the four of us were a bit agitated the rest of the night, and I know I was a bit uncomfortable. I’ve never really thought about being afraid when out and about, not really thought about having an exit plan, what to do if something happened and it weren’t fireworks. I’ve been through all the lockdown drills at the kids’ elementary school when they were younger, but we live in a suburban area, generally away from any “trouble” so it just doesn’t sit in my brain to think about something like this happening when I’m out in the world.
Here’s the thing….I hate guns. I won’t allow one to be kept in my house. I appreciate other people liking them, having them, that it’s a hobby for many to go shooting and hunting. It just really isn’t for me. I’ve not seen one in real life besides on an officer, never held one except the fake rifles we used to use in an arcade game at the little amusement park in the town where we grew up. Outside of movies and TV shows, I’ve not heard a gunshot in real life, thus a popping firework sounded like a gunshot sounded in my mind. After last night, I’m apparently not alone. In that moment, it was terrifying and it made me freeze.
Why am I talking about zombie apocalypses and guns in the same post? Well, the zombie apocalypse scenario just shows the fact I am apparently limited in my survival skills, as confirmed by my freezing in the moment of the event Wednesday night. Secondly, what happened the other night is indicative of where we are now……even innocuous situations can become dangerous at the turn of the dime. It seems we must think about action/exit plans when we’re out in the world. Our society has reached a place where the slightest thing has the potential to ignite and escalate. Add to that the prevalence of guns, and you have a firestorm waiting to happen. My point, I suppose is two-fold….our world has changed, and it seems I need to get myself better prepared.
When we moved to San Diego from Northern CA, I left everything and everyone behind. I left a nearly-10-year career, I left my family, I left my church, I left all my friends. I left the home I’d known my entire life, with the exclusion of two years of college in Santa Barbara. The only people I knew in our new town were Spouse, our two (at the time) children, and my in-laws. I had no job. We had eight months until our new home would be finished. I had no church. To say I was lost for a bit would be a huge understatement. It was a rough time. I didn’t regret the move, but growing pains like that, in your early 30’s, are overwhelming. I wondered if I’d ever have my own tribe again. Spouse was flourishing. I was floundering.
When the development where we’d bought our new home did a phase release party, we met people who would be our new neighbors eventually. One other couple had a baby not much younger than the Princess. They would live across the street and over one house from us. Most weekends, we went to see the progress on our new home. Some weekends, we’d see that couple again. We developed a waving-across-the-street acquaintance. The months passed. I found a new job. Our house worked towards completion. We started to settle into a routine. I still felt pretty isolated. My in-laws live in something of a rural town, and they are on the outskirts….it was a 10-15 minute drive to the grocery store and any restaurant options. It wasn’t somewhere we’d hang out in their front yard and meet other families with littles. We bided our time.
Eventually, our new home was done and we moved in. Those waving-across-the-street acquaintances moved in the same weekend. We’d see them when we’d take the babies for a walk. We’d see them going in and out with all the trips to Home Depot or the grocery store or wherever we all had to go as we filled our new homes and landscaped our new yards.
About a month after we moved, we were having family down and hosting something of a housewarming party. As one does, we got a keg. Spouse was out front tapping it (I don”t even know why now he was tapping the keg in the front yard, but whatevs) and those neighbors walked by. A conversation was struck. Before long, we were stopping to chat when we’d see them out front. We invited them over for dinner. They invited us over for dinner. They had a big Fourth of July party, introducing us to their friend group (they also had a pool, which I was super jealous of). J invited me to join their Bunco group. Soon, we were included in those parties, those hangouts, those card and wine groups. I had people! We had a social life. I began to fully settle into our new life in our new town.
J and I were pregnant together with our youngest babies. She was one of the first to hold Z, and he was frequently in her arms when we’d hang out. We talked nearly every day. We traveled together. Before we knew it, there were first days of Kindergarten, last days of fifth grade. Holidays were celebrated, birthday parties planned around each other’s schedules. We took turns walking the kids to and from their school down the street.
J was my lifeline. Sure, I gathered other friends as well, but without her, I don’t know I would have survived that move. I don’t know our marriage would have survived that move. J is one of my very closest friends. She knows me in a way I hardly know myself. We’ve watched each other’s babies grow up, lived so much life together, laughed, cried, endured, thrived.
Our kids are grown now. Her two are working their way through college and whatever life holds afterwards, just as mine are. This week, J and her husband listed their home. J has had some health issues the last four years. It makes sense for them to move. But I truly don’t know how I’m going to do life without J across the street. It makes me tear up just thinking about it. We’ve navigated so much life, celebrated so many milestones together. I don’t know what it will be like to walk out to my driveway and know she isn’t there, steps away. I don’t know how I will do life without her just across the street.
I love you, J. B’Side will not be the same without you. Thank you for all you’ve ever done for me since the day we moved in. Cheers to your next adventure.
When Taylor Swift first came on the country music scene in 2006, I wasn’t overly impressed. She was young, her songs reflected that, and her voice needed a wee bit of work. I admired her drive, especially in one so young then, but I didn’t expect to see her around in the long-term. When Fearless came out in 2008, it didn’t even blip on my radar, but Speak Now in 2010 changed that, mostly because my little girl was then 9 years old, and had taken notice. Two friends and I took our daughters to the Speak Now concert in LA in August of 2011, and I was sold, but not quite yet a confirmed Swiftie. You could see the work she’d done on her vocals, but it was her lyrics and her showmanship that won me over. My girl sang to all the songs, and I loved that while she didn’t quite yet get what Taylor was singing about, it would only be a matter of time before the lyrics to many of the songs would become the anthems of her life. I loved the way her songs made me re-live, re-feel what it was to be a teen learning the ropes of love and life. I appreciated her storytelling. She rocked that arena, and left us, um Haunted. She had that entire audience engaged, and literally ran the room, then floated above it while she sang about Juliet. We went to see her again four years later for the 1989 tour, and quite literally had the stadium shaking to Shake it Off….I swore then to never sit in an upper deck for a Taylor Swift concert!!
The Princess’ later teen years drew her away from Taylor Swift. Those years were so rough on us. I had a hard time believing the women who repeatedly told me my girl would come back to us, but then she did. I was grateful for anything we could share.
Folklore and Evermore came out during the Princess’ first year of college. We spent hours listening on our own, then discussing favorite tracks, best lyrics, dissecting the albums. She and her friends had their own Red party when Taylor’s Version was released. It hit her at a time in life those lyrics helped her cry, helped her allow anger to pull her up out of dark places, bonded her with her friends. Same again when Taylor’s Version of Fearless was released, and again with Speak Now.
When the Eras Tour was announced last summer, I knew we had to go. We both put in for the ticket codes when we were able. The Princess got a code, while I got on the waitlist. We marked the date on the calendar for the day tickets went on sale, and began to plan. That fiasco is well-documented. They were supposed to go up at 10am for the West Coast, but there were immediate issues (duh…who was surprised that Swifties would break the internet for tickets?), and our time got moved to 3pm. P would be in class/rehearsal at that time, so she gave me her code and her Ticketmaster log in. It made sense anyways…I knew what I was willing to pay for tickets, and I had the credit card. I did all the things they suggested to have the best opportunity to actually get tickets – added the card to the account, made sure the address matched the card, looked at the seating chart and listed sections we preferred and in which order. And then I waited. When the session opened, I think I was maybe 384 in line. It took 90 minutes. I just sat here at my computer, watching and waiting. Then I was in. I quickly picked our first choice for date (LA had I think four shows at the time of the original ticket release), our first choice for section, clicked a row and two tickets, and BAM! we had tickets. I still don’t know how we got so lucky. I know so many people who sat there for hours and either never got in, or couldn’t get tickets when they did get in. We had some survivor’s guilt….for about 30 seconds.
That was last November. We went social media dark on all things Taylor Swift back in March when her shows started. We didn’t want to know anything. It was rough…..LA was the last weekend of North America shows (before the Fall 2024 tour was announced recently), but we did it. Of course, we did see most of her costumes before we got to see the show, and we knew there were “surprise songs”, but that was about all we knew. We planned our outfits (blending outfits representing the Speak Now era), got our matching Air Force 1 Nikes to wear (no heels for this show!), made our hotel reservations near the venue, and bought the supplies to make the friendship bracelets. We spent hours on our Mammoth Lakes vacation making bracelets and listening to all the albums.
Finally, last Friday, we headed to LA, a day ahead of the show we had tickets for. We’d found out a couple weeks before we had access to a special VIP entrance time and location, with “crowd-free merch shopping”. We’d also discovered the tickets I thought were the front row of the second section back were actually straight up front row. There were a bunch of people at the hotel either going to the show the night we arrived, or the next day with us. We spent the evening bedazzling our outfits and the clear cross-body bags we’d bought for the concert. The next morning, we saw the people who’d gone the night before, all wearing their merch, so tired, but still living the high. They kindly didn’t spill any tea, just told us we were going to have the best time.
Saturday was a LONG day. We boarded the shuttle to the venue at 1:30pm. There was a couple on board with us who’d flown in that morning from New Jersey. Already, I could see how the day was going to be, as we chatted favorite songs, favorite eras, and complimented each other’s outfits. Even the driver got in on the discussion. And then we were there! First off, SoFi Stadium is gorgeous. Being in the commercial real estate industry, I was in awe of the architecture, the landscape, the planning that had gone into this stadium and the surrounding area. We made our way to the VIP entrance, and got in line. The bracelet trading began. Everyone in line was so nice, so complimentary to each other. And the sparkle level…goodness, you must be able to see the crowd from space there’s so much glitter and sequins and sparkles! It was awesome to see everyone’s favorite eras as represented by their outfits. And the ages….dads with their little girls, moms with their teens and 20-somethings, groups of friends in their 30’s, couples of all ages……We got in the venue and stood in another line to buy merch, trading more bracelets and chatting with people around us. After we got our chosen items, we got into another line to get to our floor seats. Finally, we were allowed to make the very long walk down to the floor, and as we got to our seats, we were speechless. We were so close to the catwalk part of the stage!! Taylor would literally be just feet away from us!!!
We got our Lavender Lemonade (gin, lavender, and lemonade, and let me just tell you, they were FABULOUS), traded bracelets with the people to our left, who also happily shared their body glitter with us, and then with the couple to our right who’d flown in from India (CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT??!!!). Gayle came on first, and immediately became a new favorite. So badass. She was followed by Haim, who rocked. Then the last wait of the day began. I did know a clock was going to show up on the screen when we got close to go time. When that hit the screen, the place went insane, and it only got louder as it ticked down to zero. We got chills and tears when Taylor finally appeared onstage.
It was such an amazing night. The thing I love best about Taylor Swift shows is that everyone is so damn nice. Everyone is just there to have fun. There’s no drama. You don’t have to worry about fights in the stands, or people being rude. You’re there, scream-singing every word to every song with 80,000 of your closest Taylor Swift besties. And Taylor did not disappoint…for over 3.5 hours she gave her all. Here’s the things…those lyrics are now my daughter’s life. She’s living all those things Taylor has spent years singing about. And I am reminiscing my teens, 20’s, and early 30’s. It allows me and P to bond even more. Cruel Summer allowed P to yell her favorite lyrics (he looks up grinning like a devil), and I got to sway to my favorite Enchanted. We both teared up during Long Live. And we were all blessed with the ten minute version of All Too Well (poor Jake Gyllenhaal is still hearing it from Swifties five times a week). I’ve never been to a concert quite like this. It just kept going. Just when a regular concert would be ending, we realized we still had two more hours of eras to go. When it did end, we were drained, exhausted from standing, singing and dancing for 3.5 hours. I have no clue how Taylor does that night after night. She doesn’t hold back. All those months planning, all the expenses (tickets, hotel, outfits, bracelet making supplies, food, lavendar lemonades, merch), all the hours spent in line that day, and it was over. But oh what a day….
One of our favorite songs of all time is Best Day With You. It was the best day with my Princess. Thank you, Taylor. You bring people together. You’ve built a community that is kind, that compliments each other, that takes joy in your music, and comes together for amazing nights. Thank you for this experience I share with my daughter. It means more than I can convey with words. We had the Best Day in August, were completely Enchanted, kinda felt 22, forgot all our Champagne Problems, felt the good Karma, lived in a Lavender Haze for a few hours, were completely Fearless as we remembered how to Shake It Off, were totally Ready For It, and didn’t step on anyone’s gowns while we screamed how we were Never Ever Getting Back Together and contemplated P’s current Blank Space that awaits her next Lover who could be The 1; and we went in Style, completely Bejeweled, under the influence of your Mastermind. Long Live Taylor Swift and all Swifties! May we all remember All Too Well your Eras Tour – the experience of a lifetime.
I don’t know about where you live, but it seems we’ve had days of rain every week since Christmas. This is so not typical for us, and despite the fact we desperately need the rain, it is wearing on me. I’m tired all the time. I find myself having days of being on the verge of tears all day long for no real reason. My motivation is extremely lacking. And it’s very difficult to get my running back on track when the rain keeps me from getting out there consistently. The weather is gloomy, and I feel gloomy. Seriously, how do people who live where it’s like this every year do this?
I know I’m whining, trust me. Our weather is normally pretty temperate. We spent Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Day in shorts. That is fairly normal for us. I always joke we get our winter during May Gray and June Gloom when the marine layer is solid throughout the day and our temps hover in the mid-60’s, but the rest of the year usually makes up for it. Not so this year.
It was 75 this past Saturday, and sunny. Spouse, Big Man (home from school on Spring Break) and I sat on the upper back patio for hours just soaking up the sun. And then that evening, the clouds covered the sky, and the rain came back. Our dogs don’t know what to do. They’re used to having the back door fully open all day, every day. This morning, our big dog, Ozzie, started to go out the door, stopped, turned around and looked at me with a look that basically told me I was nuts if I thought he was going to go outside in this mess. The creeks near our house, which are typically barely trickles if they’re not completely dry, are running high and fast. It’s pretty, but also bizarre to see. We’ve lived here nearly 21 years and have never seen it like this. The Princess’ school has closed campus three days this quarter alone due to flooding and unsafe roads. She’s about 250 miles north of us.
I’ve often heard of seasonal depression, we just don’t really have to think about it here. This year, however, we’ve discovered for ourselves just what a real thing it is, and I am over it.
A few years ago, I took on the trend of choosing a word of the year (WOY) – a word that would hopefully focus my intentions, my actions, my words for the year. Some years it sticks, some years, I find myself discarding the whole experiment a few months in. Wouldn’t you know it, my word of the year in 2020 was simplify. Hah! How simple can you get when everything is cancelled? 2021 my word was grace – giving grace to myself, to others, to situations, after coming out of an extremely mental and emotionally challenging year. Last year, my word was intentional. I wanted to be very purposeful what I did, how I did it. I wanted meaning behind my words, my actions, the activities I engaged in. This year, I’ve chosen health.
Menopause has not been kind to me in the past nine months. Heck, it wasn’t a carnival before then, but it really hit hard last year. My body was unfamiliar to me. It didn’t seem to matter what I did, or didn’t do. Sleep was elusive. Mood swings impacted most days. I hit a deep point of depression in the fall that carried into this new year. In addition, I had the worst plantar fasciitis I’ve ever dealt with. It would not go away, no matter I stopped running, stretched religiously, utilized heat and ice. I couldn’t run at all for seven months. I could barely walk for three months. I finally caved and went to my doctor which lead to a podiatrist appointment which lead to custom orthotics. Wouldn’t you know – as soon as those babies arrived, my foot felt better. I use the inserts anyways just to keep the tendinitis at bay.
I wasn’t necessarily making healthy choices last year – more wine was involved than was necessary, I wasn’t turning to other exercise in place of running, I definitely did not prioritize bedtime. It went deeper than that. I feel I neglected my mental and emotional health, as well as those important relationships in my life. That it was an insanely busy year did nothing to assist, even if much of that busy-ness was those amazing trips we took, near and far, long and short.
Because of all the above, I decided in late November I needed to prioritize my health – all of my health. I needed to put emphasis on my physical health as well as mental, emotional, spiritual, relational, and even professional health. It’s very-low-level outlined at the front of my planner to keep it at the forefront of my awareness.
I know many of us start (or re-start) healthier eating and an exercise plan in January. The gyms are packed this time of year. I noticed as I drove by the gym near our house yesterday afternoon just how full the parking lot was. I know from experience that parking lot will go back to regular occupancy by mid-February. Am I being honest with myself I’ll be able and/or willing to keep up with my health focus? Only time will tell. I found myself feeling somewhat defeated when I got on the scale yesterday, AFTER THREE WHOLE DAYS OF EATING RIGHT AND EXERCISING, and the number hadn’t moved at all. But I reminded myself physical health isn’t necessarily about whatever number shows up on that evil scale – it’s about making good choices a majority of the time, taking care of my body by eating good things, getting the rest my body requires, and moving every day.
I’ve had a morning routine, once the kids were dropped off at school, for years….breakfast, coffee, news, devotional time (that hasn’t always been part of my morning routine, and generally was the first thing to get scrapped – see, this is why spiritual health was also included in my 2023 planning). I’ve opted to become more focused and planned in my morning routine, particularly now I don’t have any children to get up and out of the house any longer, nor do I have to deal with any drop off or pick up lines at any schools. One of my goals for the year is to read one non-fiction book per month. I’ve decided to incorporate that reading into my morning routine. It may just be 10 minutes, a chapter, a section of a chapter, but it’s part of the morning rundown. I have three short prompts I journal in my planner, which I try revolve around how I’m going to stay focused on “health” for the day. Then there is that devotional time – I have another non-fiction, Christian book I’m working through, as well as a plan in my Bible app.
My sister gave me a new journal for my birthday last year. It’s beautiful, with worked leather cover, and the lined pages she knows I prefer. I’d gotten away from journaling as I used to, utilizing that brief section for each day in my planner, and this blog, to document my life, my thoughts, my feelings. The issue with that is the planner gives me room for about ten sentences, and this is a public domain, not giving me space to really get it all out, especially those particularly private events/thoughts/emotions/processes. There are some things that just aren’t meant for sharing, but that I need to work through. I set the journal aside when I got it back in June, holding onto it knowing I would start with it fresh on January 1st. I don’t have expectations I’ll journal every single day, but I really want/need to get back to a regular routine.
That’s not, of course, my whole plan for how I’m incorporating my word of the year, health, into my life. But that’s a start. Do you have a word of the year? How do you maintain your focus on that word? Do you care to share your 2023 word of the year?
In 2011, me and two of my mom friends took our daughters up to the Staples Center in LA to see Taylor Swift on her Speak Now tour. We got a hotel for the night, and surprised them with a limo ride to and from the venue. I’d appreciated Taylor Swift before that show, but once I saw the connection her music produced between moms and daughters, sisters, dads and daughters, friends old and young, I was sold. We had an amazing time. In 2015, another mom friend and I took our girls to the 1989 tour. This time, a grandma, matching her granddaughter in tutus and tiaras, rocking to Shake It Off brought me so much joy. Last year, my daughter and her friends had a Red party when Taylor’s version was released. We both had the album on repeat for weeks, belting out the 10-minute version of All Too Well every time it played. The lyrics for most of her songs apply to both our lives, mine in the distant past for the most part, my Princess living many of them now. We compared notes for days after the release of Midnights, our favorites changing the more we listened.
As soon as the Eras tour was announced, we knew we wanted to go. We both signed up to be verified fans, Princess actually getting a code to buy tickets, and me ending up on the waitlist. Tuesday morning hit – P sent me her code and log in credentials. She was on the site as well, which promptly crashed. After twenty minutes of cycling, she got the text the California tickets would now go on sale at 3pm with the presale codes. She would be in class. I had the afternoon free. At 2:30pm, I logged into her account, updated the payment method with my card, entered the “waiting room” and waited. I was terrified my computer was going to freeze or crash or something. The stress level was high.
At 3pm, I was put into the queue, a mere 864 people in front of me in line. For nearly an hour, I watched that number slowly tick down to 542, then it quickly went to 399, then 154, then 32, then 1. Finally, I was in. I’d already scoped out and listed the sections we were interested in. I quickly clicked on the first one we’d targeted, clicked on two seats, threw them in my cart as fast as I could, and hit “Check Out”. Within minutes, I had our two tickets to the Saturday night show in LA, with a parking pass, and, just to be safe given the state of our world post-pandemic, the ticket insurance. WHEW!! Both the Princess and I were so relieved and elated. It took just about 90 minutes of my afternoon, and some diligent computer screen watching, but we had them. As the afternoon and evening wore on, I began to hear and see it wasn’t the case for so many people. My sister kept getting kicked out to the back of the line, or as soon as she’d click on seats they were gone. She tried off and on until she went to bed, and then again the next morning. No luck.
As this week has gone on, and we’ve seen all the TikToks, Reels, stories and posts, I realized just how damn lucky we were. We had minimal drama, got the tickets we wanted, and were checked out relatively quickly. I find I’m having some kind of survivor’s guilt. I know so many people who just couldn’t get through, or couldn’t get the tickets they’d clicked on once they finally got in, or got booted back to the end of the line repeatedly, until they got the notice all the presale tickets for their venue were gone. Then yesterday’s notice the open sale scheduled today was cancelled. Is it crazy there’s so much furor over getting concert tickets? Totally. At the same time, I feel awful we got ours when so many people weren’t able to get any. Do I feel bad enough to give ours up? Um, ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!!! P and I will be seeing Taylor on August 5th, and it’s going to be epic.
Three's a Herd
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