Channel the Yoda

Saturday, July 13, 2013

Who Gives the Stink Eye to Runners?

I'm running to Dunn Bros from our house to check on my collage exhibition. It's 1.5 miles away. More importantly, it's hot.

I'm really not feeling this running thing. But gosh darn it, I'm going to make it there and back! I sound much more adamant than you should believe. Why? Because I asked Dan to come looking for me if I wasn't back in an hour.

Puffing and heaving with no fluid motion in sight I make it to Dunn Bros. Finally air conditioning! The smell of coffee beans in the air. I peruse my art. Make some notes. Looks good. 

What else is there left to do? I can only fiddle around for so long. Fine. Gripe to self. Start running back.

I take off! The wind not touching my hair and sunshine beating down on my back. I'm one street crossing away from the path that leads me home. Sweet home. I look both ways. Clear as a whistle. I start wobbly running across the street when I feel an unexpected breeze. A truck has whipped around the corner and suddenly I'm almost body planted in his grill. Does the guy with wrap around sunglasses, polo shirt and red beard even see me?

Not until I screamed in fear! He looked in surprise. Then made a disgusted face and peeled off.

I mean, it's hard enough running, as I've expressed, but if I continually have to worry not just about getting squashed by inconsiderate drivers, but about receiving the stink eye because they didn't see me, I'm going to get a dang complex here.

Point of the story, it's difficult enough to run, but when you make a face at me, it hurts my feelings.

Start seeing runners and save my fragile ego. Or something like that.

And dude with the tude, you suck.

Friday, July 12, 2013

A Garden Metaphor Perhaps

Im starting to think a garden is, of course life, but more so all different ideas of what a life can and will be.

Like my garden, in its current existence, contains cut off milk cartons, plants leaning heavily to one side, strangling themselves because I planted too close, the roots are busted, vines growing on the lawn chair, peed on by our dog and for some reason covered in sap. Heck, Dan just sneezed right on the beans twice.

But they are growing like a child being fed non steroid food- a steady and healthy pace with no sudden allergies to wheat.

Gardens take all different shapes just as life and goodness can grow anywhere. Including the patio of a town home in Oakdale, Minnesota. 

Tuesday, July 9, 2013


I had rocks in my shoes.

I hit several trees.

Waded butt deep twice.

Floated backwards while paddling in forward motion.

Saw a baby otter swim across the river to his very vocal mother who thought us loons for swooning over them and getting stuck on trees.

Hit canyon walls.

Stuck on sand bars and rocks.

I said words I shouldn't have.

Accidentally sprayed sunscreen in my eye.

Kayaking is fun.

***We rented through River Guide Kayaks. They are a fledgling company with lots of heart and a soda in hand for us when we finished. They also were half the price of the other company in town and carried our kayaks to the river for us.

Kayak spelled backwards is kayak. I need to stop writing the word kayak.

Friday, March 8, 2013


I'm going to take a swim in Havasu Falls. All that magnesium that makes the water so blue has got to be helpful to my digestive tract, eh?

I imagine I will be kicking my little legs in a swimming fashion behind the falls, crawling up the slick rocks to find the rock shelter known to be hidden by the falling waters.

I hope there are no bats. Hate bats. But if there are, it will still be worth it.

You know how I know,  because in Idaho we trekked up a mountain in search of healing hot springs. As we struggled with lung pressure, heights and a quick acclimation to altitude, we continually heard, "15 more minutes!" from our momentarily disowned friend as we wondered out loud, "Why are we doing this?" 

We made it. We healed.

But behind those healing springs was it's water source; a dark, mossy cave of wonder. I pushed aside the concerns of what was swimming in those waters or hiding in that soft moss and crawled in.

The warm water dripped from the ceiling splashing our faces and hair. Laughs escaped our throats covered in sheer joy and exhilaration.

A memory of my mother falling into the cave with a huge smile plastered on her face will never be forgotten. Of course, I have a photograph to back that up.

Now we are starting our workout preparations for another trek, this time into a canyon which houses those magnesium falls and another potential cave of wonder...

Or Batman's home.  

Monday, February 25, 2013


Goodbye Okinawa...


Don't worry readers, I haven't gone far. Just taking a break before diving back into the Compulsive World that I inhabit.

Know trips are in planning process, put on cards, and work is a constant movement to pay with a flurry all that is to happen this year.

It's an exciting time, people. You won't be left out.

Time to see the world! 


Saturday, January 26, 2013

FLU an Ode

in messy dreams.
france and eiffel.
switzerland. floating head. he groans.
puppies on my lap.
where's the money?
lost money.
numbness. in my neck.
all the energy i have.
dan needs boots.
no, cold.
not hungry.
sneeze. head. hurt.
the shining.
get it.

Saturday, January 12, 2013


Today is a day I think of prancing, dancing and all that falls in between....

Las Vegas, Ireland, Okinawa, Prague...

My mind has wandered to places I've been, places I should be, places I will be.

With a pancreas not working but feeling kinda pretty I find myself feisty...

Ready to see things (Terracotta Soldiers, Great Wall of China, etc.), do things (like snowshoe, ski, hike, climb and run), eat things (you name it, lets try it) and be a part of the world like we are all meant to be.... I feel amazing.

For now.

I continue treatment, starting Monday, and it always rips me right down the center causing pain, instability and strife. But before that happens I want to remember how joyful, spritely and full of life I am.

I would sing the highest note of "Edelweiss" on the mountain top, prance to music with any beat to step to, climb the highest 8000 meter mountain, run the longest time (Billy Joel), cry with the strongest love and feel the most moments that a mind can allow. I am alive.

Though at this point, I only feel well enough to work almost 40 hours a week, but considering where I was 6 months ago, those almost 40 hours could be gold. The days I don't sleep 15 hours a day are worth laughing with. The nights not in stomach pain and rolling around with aching fullness, they are spent sleeping.

Sleeping. I sleep again. I wake again. And don't want to go to sleep again. I want to face the world. Not fearful but ready for life. Ready for whatever it throws. Ready to laugh.To be. To be me. 

A me not defined by illness. A me not defined by sickness. Or pancreas. Or broken digestive tract or irresponsible gallbladder.

A me who is just me. Weird me. Me.

I like cheese. I skipped today. WE ALL SHOULD! I laughed. Kissed my man. Chased two puppies up and down the stairs until one puppy slammed the other puppy into the door frame and that puppy hurt himself (aka Indy).

I have a family. They expect me to survive. I expect to live as an alive person is allowed.

Treatment Monday, yes I am scared. But no treatment Monday, is so much more wrong. Sick and wrong...and very, very bad.

I write this not to get a response, I write this to say I am alive. My pancreas is not. But fuck it, I am. And, if treatment goes well, it will be too.

Whether it fucking wants to or not.

Wish me luck. I wish you luck. And love and life.

Cause we all deserve that.

-With all thats yours, ours and mine,

Nerissa (aka, the Compulsive Traveler)