It's the little things sometimes

I had hoped that by writing about Robin I would magically feel better, that the situation would be better and that life could continue as it was before.

Not surprisingly to everyone but me.. it didn't work that way.

I'm not sleeping well. The night terrors are back in full force. I don't remember them much, just wisps of images and shadows on the edge of my memory. I can see The Boy is torn between letting me grieve and trying to make me happy. Which would be sweet if I wasn't so distracted. I've spent the last few days mostly in my own head.

Today I got home from work and just crawled into bed with The Boy. Unfortunately me crawling under the covers woke The Boy up. My heart was set on sleeping at least a little bit, so I promised him he could wake me up in 2 hours.

Those 2 hours went by way too quickly.

Now, you should know, I can be pretty shifty when I want to keep sleeping. I mean, I will flat out lie.
"Ugh, I'm not feeling very good"
"No Mckenna, I'm not going to wear a braid again. I'll get up in 5 min to do my hair"
"Just 15 more minutes.."
"Oh that's not my alarm, that's Lachelle's"
"The meeting was canceled"
"I'm up I'm up"
"It's a snow day..?"

So The Boy is being persestant about me being concious. The jerk. I mumble something about needing 5 more minutes. He doesn't get the hint (or ignores it) and keeps poking me.

Boy - Saaamm Wake up. I lonely.
Me - mumble mumble
Boy - Please? I want to play, I want to go out. Wake up!
Me - Go play with the dog. Bodhi likes you.
Boy - Bodhi isn't good company all he does is run up to me with his rope and
Says "throw the rope"
So I throw the rope. Then Bodhi runs up to me and says "Throw the rope"
I try to wrestle with him... he thinks I'm trying to steal his rope and
he runs away.
I mean it's fun for an hour, but now I'm over it.

Sadly, this is a very accurate description of the dog.
And my life.

Thank Hera for The Boy. He's going to get me through this.

Many lifetimes ago, I worked at a fortune 500 company. Within a few months I was promoted to the training staff. I was 22 and lost. In my job, in my romantic life, in all paths actually. I was 22 and I was already resigned to my life.

Enter Robin.

She was in my first training class. Blonde, sweet and excitable we instantly became friends. I'm still not sure how much older Robin is then me, somewhere in her thirties or forties. It's hard to put an age on her, she contains a mixture of gaiety, experience, and hope. Life had clearly knocked her down a few times, but Robin remains unfazed. She was eager to learn and in typically Robin fashion she attacked the job with gusto, rising to become a fellow team lead with me maybe six months after we first met. She was good at her job, she was good with her underlings and she was determined.

Robin is the ultimate free spirit, wild child and hippie. Our boss had joked that she hired her mostly because her resume was so random she had to get to know her better. Robin had done everything from working as a professional clown to working in a small town near the ski slopes making zilch just so she could spend all her time and money on fresh powdered snow. At one point she decided that she wanted to see all the states in America, so she got a job as a truck driver. She made it to every state except Hawaii, Alaska and South Dakota. Robin lived the life she wanted to live. And she lived that life where ever the wind happened to blow her. When she went to Vegas with her boyfriend and a few friends, someone drunkenly suggested that it wouldn't be Vegas without a wedding. Without missing a beat Robin was married a few hours later. But for all her free living ways, Robin has a practical streak a mile wide in her. Her life settled down drastically with the arrival of her son. Realizing that her marriage was falling apart, she left. Took her 1 year old son and lived successfully as a single mother for the next 9 years. She saw the job we shared as a way to make life easier for her and her son even if it wasn't her dream job. The first year she worked there she called out sick 3 times. THE WHOLE YEAR.

I can't sum up Robin. It's taken me 20 minutes to write the above paragraph. I keep trying to capture her essence in nice neat little sentences and I can't. I can't explain how she was so good at her job but so excitable that we use to joke about having to pull her claws out of the ceiling like a cat. Or within only a few months of knowing each other she brought in a postcard for me that had a signpost that said "lost" instead of a street name. Robin taught Cliff to juggle in an effort to distract him from how much he hated his job. She helped me with the office pranks. She was a tireless defender when she felt one of her friends was not treated right.

I went through my reservation road break up while I worked with her. I've never been a big crier, but there was one day when my heart was heavy and bleak. Robin was like me, hating to show weakness and would never dream of crying in public. Imagine my surprise when she told me in soft tones about her divorce and told me to expect days feeling nothing but relief that I was finally free of a bad situation. Then there would be days when I would feel so crushed, feel the impact of my failure and feel like the sun would never rise again. She told me it was ok to have days like that, that it was part of the healing process.

I worked every day with her for almost two years. When I told her I was leaving for Hawaii she squealed and jumped up and down with me. Even though she knew I would never go back to that job. For almost two years she was one of my closest confidants.

We never fully lost touch. When I started my job at the Keg she was there opening night. We did a few pool days, I'd stop by the office a couple times and a few girls nights out that left blurry, happy memories. We talked on the phone a couple times a month, then a once a month, then a couple times a year. We never stopped loving each other, life just kept getting in the way. We probably made plans to do dinner six different times this last summer. It always fell through. But it was ok, we both understood how life gets.

She called me on my birthday. I was excited and surprised. She laughed and told me "I'm good with dates. As long as you live I'll never forget your birthday. So don't change your number, cause I'm always going to call you".

Robin went in for a routine surgery on Friday. She was sent home and was healing slowly. Sunday she aspirated. We don't know how long she went without oxygen. She's been ICU since Sunday night.

She has a 1% chance of waking up. If she does she will have severe brain damage.

Robin, I'm sorry my words fail you. I'm sorry I can't explain to the world what it is losing.

I...

Just a taste

Halloween weekend was spent in Texas this year.

With The Boy's family. At a renaissance faire. Which meant that we got to wear costumes on TWO days instead of just one. Drink and eat all sorts of yummy foods while walking around staring at all the vendors and shows. So much fun.

I'm sure I'll write more about it in the next day or two. But for now, just know this:


I met Sampson this weekend and I think I love him. I've already asked The Boy if I can have him for christmas. The Boy said no, but I'm pretty sure he's just trying to trick me so I'll be surprised on Christmas day.




Clearly we are meant to be together.

The Science of Sleep And Me

I'm a big fan of sleep.
My deep love of naps is epic sonnet material.

But I don't actually sleep all that much. Maybe it's because I'm such a fan of naps. For the last three years in fact I've done most of my sleeping in four hour sets. Partly its because there is just too much to see and soo much to do. And read. And watch.

But just because I ignore you sleep, doesn't mean I don' t love you. I mean, don't I buy you nice things like expensive pillows, super soft foam pads. Remember the amazing blanket I bought for you in Mexico? I may ignore you but at least I buy you presents.

Also, Sleeping WITH people is interesting to me. Yes, I'm talking about actually sleeping.

When I was in junior high I met the Taylors. Mckenna and Mel... two sisters who shared all my secrets and jokes and love. When we would do sleepovers, which was at least once a week, we slept three to a bed because we couldn't bear to be seperated. Most of the time Jewels would join us too. So three girls side by side in a queen sized bed, and little Mel laying the opposite way on our feet. Even though I'm from a big family I had never slept in that close of quarters before. I loved it. I remember falling asleep whispering secrets mid sentance. Waking up and actually feeling someone else's physical warmth next to you. It was peaceful. I've always liked people. And I loved those girls.

Those summers were spent at beach houses. With the Garrards and my family. Austin and I would spend all day together and when night fell, we would talk until our voices gave out. I'd sleep on the couch and him on the floor next to me. Occasionally he'd pull me off the couch and we'd wrestle for the couch while trying to keep our giggles and shrieks quiet so we would wake any of the other mass of kids that were sleeping on the floor with us. But eventually we'd quiet down, and that's when I first learned that in the darkness and safety of the night people will share things that never see the light of day.


Then I was in high school. And there were boys. And boyfriends. Kissing and relationships were new and exciting. Then one day while watching a movie I fell asleep while curled up in a boys arms. For the first time in years there was no nightmares.

I was hooked.

That's probably when I fell in love with naps. Falling asleep while in someone's arm was like a drug. A few years later I learned sleeping next to someone wasn't all sunshine. Years later and miles down the road, I was in a Reservation Road Relationship. It was bad. I remember not being able to sleep and looking down at him. Realizing that I couldn't touch him while he slept. Not emotionally anyway. That while he slept and I was in the waking world we were apart. Nothing I could do would affect him. How lonely that was. Then realizing that even when we were both awake together.. that there was no way to touch him. That awake or asleep, we were in different worlds.

I chose to sleep alone for a long time after that relationship.

Then there was a year of fun and sun. Working with my friends, partying with my friends. Sleeping with my friends. Ryan use to peek in every morning to see what girlfriend was sharing my bed that night. He teased me, saying that having sleepovers was my way of avoiding relationships. Maybe he was right. But I loved waking up next to a friend, laying in bed and giggling about the things that had happened the night before. On nights when I didn't go out I would creep into Ryan's room with two bottles of Mike's lemonade and an episode of Burn Notice and trick him into sharing his bed while we learned how to be spies from Mr.Michael Weston. I'd make a pillow wall down the middle of his bed, so that we'd get equal sides of the bed and that way Ryan couldn't try to steal more then his share. In the morning I'd wake up to a wall of pillows on top of me and Ryan diagonally across the bed.

The summer I lived with Lachelle we lived in the basement of a house with these teeny tiny little single beds. One week we were both sick and I remember crowding into her bed with her, drinking tea and comparing music. The two of us only fit in that bed if we were both on our sides, but we knew that we felt icky and that human touch can be as healing as nyquil sometimes.

Now there is The Boy. Our sleep schedules are not harmonious in the least. I'm on a mids shift, he's on graveyard. I adore and love our couch and could sleep on it every night. He hates the couch and loves the bed. Get this, he doesn't even like naps. What?! He has to sleep with a sheet tucked into all the corners of the bed, w/ two pillows, two more blankets on top of him and the air on freezing. I like to sleep with one soft blanket, wrapped between my legs with my feet sticking out over the bed and using only a third of my pillow. But I love falling asleep next to him.
Because of our schedules it doesn't get to happen that often.
When it does... it's a bit of a circus.
We have to sleep with two different blankets, so he can be tucked in and I can be free. Then one blanket over on top of our other blankets. We fall asleep sweetly. Then as the night progress, I wake up freezing cause he's stolen the top blanket. Or I wake up smashed into the wall because The Boy likes to.. spread.. out... A lot of the time I wake him up from yelling in my sleep and he has to wake me up and calm me down. So our sleep patterns are not exactly peaceful.
I still love it.

I've lived alone before. I've even lived with someone but felt alone.
But sleeping next to people is a joy and why I will probably always live with someone.

Because beds, and secrets, are meant to be shared.

I love you and you and you

Seven Things I Love About My Life Right Now:

My cozy little apartment. With my cozy little nest of a couch, the slew of movies and tv shows I need to catch up on, the dog that doubles as a throw rug and The Boy who stumbles around looking for caffine at the bright and early hour of 4pm.

The massive amount of music Tyr gave me. I mean massive. I get a little overwhelmed whenever I open my computer or look at my ipod. I've fallen in love multiple times in the last three weeks. I had almost given up on music... but I keep going back to it because I love it so much.

The Boy. Is it bad that he wasn't first? He'll deal. He's just a boy after all. A boy who makes me silly happy, who tickles me on the couch, plays with my hair absentmindedly while watching zombies eat brains and will argue with me about books but not much else. And, he fixed the kitchen lights without me saying a word. I mean, who does that?! And we play games of hide and seek with the oreos. Well at least I think it's a game. He hides them at my request so I don't eat the whole bag and then I tear apart the house looking for them. I eat three and then he hides them again for a few days. That's a game right?

My job. I feel so naive and young saying this... but I really love my job. When it's busy it gives me that daily dose of adrenaline that I crave. When it's slow I get to read a book, or be on the internet. WHICH IS AWESOME. And they pay me fantastic. There are days I'm stressed to the max but those days come with a shot of adrenaline so I still like it. I do work with mostly women, and so I'm terrified of the drama that floats to the surface of every week. I'm trying to keep my head down while still being friendly. It's a surprisingly hard line to walk. Lucky for me I took tightrope walking classes.

Books. Books. Books. I'm three books behind the boy still. And Liz let me go into Barnes and Noble without a proper chaperon. Which means I came home with six books and a lot less money. I figure they'll last at least two weeks.

Friends. All of you. Now that I've rejoined the social world my long lost friends are welcoming me back with open arms full of drinks. Or movies, or long conversations on the phone... You get the idea. The Boy and I are forced to rent a house come January specifically so that we can fit more friends under one roof. Between the nights out, the adventures and the chill conversations I haven't had time to do the basics, like grocery shopping. Although, let's be honest shall we? I'll do most anything to get out of grocery shopping.

Halloween!!!! Which doubles as my vacation. Not only am I going out of state, but I get to go on A PLANE. I love love flying. And Airports. I love them. You know how most girls feel about going shopping for expensive shoes or bags or whatever? That's how I feel about flying. and Airports. Oh Airports. Did I mention we're going out of state? Cause we're totally going out of state. It's kinda a family trip with his family but since we'll be in costume for halloween and drinking and eating all weekend it'll be great. Halloween and vacation all rolled into one?! Seriously be jealous.

One Day More

My 25th birthday has come and gone.

It wasn't as traumatic as I feared it would be. I mean, I still feel my breathe catch, my stomach drop and my inner child burst into tears. But the actual day itself.. not too bad.

The weekend before was spent in a glorious haze. I spent each night with friends, who all politely pretended that the gathering was happenstance and not because of my impending birthday.

The actual birthday was lovely too. About three months ago I had mentioned to the boy that the perfume I had found in Ireland had finally ran out and I wanted to buy something new. Well, the sneaky Boy found the website for the tiny little store in Ireland, ordered a bottle and had it wrapped all pretty waiting for me. If I was the crying type I would have sobbed. Instead I squealed and hugged the boy until Bodhi freaked out and instead on being middle dog. He's good at middle dog.

Also lovely? All the birthday love my friends sent me. Since I wasn't fully acknowledging that it was my birthday, whenever I read a message instead of seeing "happy birthday" I read "your so pretty and thin and I love you". Which rocked. Cause who doesn't want to hear that? Much better then Happy birthday you old hag.

As you get older, the presents get less, but they become more meaningful. Like the perfume. Or my brothers all teamed up and bought me a kickass jacket. Tyr gave me so much music that my computer tried to throw it all up. Twice. My mother sent money to pay for all of us to go to dinner. I got a voicemail from my little sister and almost cried when I heard how much her voice sounds like mine. Presents don't just come in gift wrapped form.

I'm still kind of in denial about the age thing. I'm not ready for it yet, which is a whole other post. But for a nonbirthday... it was pretty awesome. I might even consider having another one.

Back to Kickboxing or Why I'm not good at one night stands

Training is still kicking my ass, but the end is in sight. Almost a full year of training. If I make it out alive I plan on celebrating by eating a full cheesecake.
And maybe jumping out of a plane.

Because of training, I haven't been to kickboxing or bootcamp in two months.

So yesterday I went back. Somehow I picked a day when I was the only girl. If I was better at math I could probably tell you what the odds of that happening were. Out of the six girls that go regularly.. I showed up.
Which means on my first day back in two months I had to work out with a boy. One I didn't know at that. Oh, and we had an odd number of people. So I had to work out with TWO boys. A threesome if you will. Trying to spar with three people instead of two is always difficult to manage. Trying to spar when all three are strangers... is down right impossible.

All of the above made me nervous. Cause kickboxing is kinda like sex.
Don't laugh. I'm serious.
I'll explain

Everyone's got different levels of experience. Some people have been going for months but their technique still sucks. Or their stamina is lacking. Some people have a natural talent. The Boy is one of those. :) A lot of people are just naturally uncoordinated. When you start out, you start with shadowboxing. By yourself. Just you and your hands, mimicking the real thing. Then when you've proven your not going to hurt yourself or someone else, you're allowed to start partnering up. At first you'll workout with anyone, anyone, you're just so grateful to not have to workout by yourself. Time passes and you start to realize that you like working out with certain people. That you click better with some people over others, that you can move faster, more fluid and hit harder with them. You develop favorites and you keep going back to them.

Yep, still talking about kickboxing.

So back to yesterday. None of the girls that I'm used to sparring with are there. I get paired up with two guys that I've never worked with before. And that's when I realized that training with a new person is kinda like a one night stand. It's a little awkward. They do something out of sync, you laugh to ease the tension, instead they get self conscious and so they hit harder, only harder isn't necessary better. I mean, sometimes it's better, but you have to be in the mood to be hit. And there kinda needs be a trust factor that doesn't come with strangers. I'm ok with exchanging hard blows, but only if I know someones not going to end up in tears. Because one of the guys was new, I ended up spending most of my workout explaining and showing him what he should be doing. I didn't get a very satisfying workout.

Still talking about kickboxing.

When the day ended I decided two things. 1)I like kickboxing. I really like kickboxing and I don't want to let two months go without doing it. 2)I'm not a big fan of one night stands. I mean working out with brand new people. It's too awkward, you don't get a good enough workout, you don't really learn new things and you ended up leaving unfulfilled, knowing it could have been better.

I mean, I like the idea of sparring with a stranger. Of meeting in a dark smokey ring, making eye contact, touching gloves and then pounding the shit out of each other. Not caring if you actually hurt him, actually being glad when they hit you too hard because it means you can hit them harder. Pushing each others skill level, breathing hard and wiping the sweat out of your eyes. Walking away, knowing you beat the shit out of each other and not really caring. Maybe you'll meet in the ring again, maybe not. I mean, I like that idea. I've just never been able to follow through with that.

I guess I'm just not that type of girl. I like workouts with people I have a relationship of some type with. I don't like hurting strangers. I actually care about peoples feelings. I like knowing their personality and being able to navigate the tricky parts with finesse. Knowing it's ok to laugh occasionally, it's ok to try a new jab, it's ok to mess up, and it's ok to sometimes take out aggression on them and then buy them a beer to make up for the bruises.

Still talking about kickboxing.

And I'm ok with that, being that type of girl.