The gypsy in me.

Today I awoke a bit healthier than I have done in the last week or so. But what I awoke to was a longing for the visceral again. For actually seeing the world. Walking it. Interacting with it. Tasting it’s flavors. Understanding bits of it. Definitely appreciating it.

When I get this feeling at this level, it actually physically hurts that I'm not attaining it. It’s the deepest, most intense longing in me. It goes beyond even the desire for companionship.

It’s not about making my mark on the world. My time here on this planet, in the scope of all of history and all that is to come, is miniscule at most. It’s about BEING in it. Experiencing it. Knowing, truly knowing, the wonder of it during these moments I'm privileged to be in it. Glimpsing it’s beauty in this moment. Marveling at the cultures I encounter. And touching as much of it as I possibly can.

This. This is what drives me. What feeds me. I spend my time downloading books to my reader or films to my external hard drive in anticipation of the first step of this journey. Yet, in reality when I go I won’t give a crap about these things. I’ll care about engaging with what is around me. Not what is made to entertain. (Not that I obviously don’t enjoy these things… but they often can dilute the preciousness of the moment as well as suck time from this sacred interaction.)

I used the word “sacred.” I do see being deeply engaged in each moment as spiritual encounter – as the most profound way to honor the divine, or at least to honor this mysterious gift called life.

But I digress. This drive, this desire for a nomadic existence is both marvelous and maddening. How do I support myself financially is the most trying part to figure out. (Yes, I am open to suggestions – and especially connections.)

It is isolating, too. Many people I meet think it’s a great dream, but then have a lot of negative comments about it. They even become angry. I do understand. They have made choices in life that have allowed them to walk away from their dreams. To encounter someone who still holds to theirs is not always comfortable. It is only hard when I get discouraged and haven’t someone who believes in me and my goals to encourage me. (I’m so very grateful I have a few wonderful women who do that for me now. What a true blessing.)

Whatever this wayfaring passion is, it is my objective; my goal. my future. I just wish so much I knew how be in it now rather than always, ever “moving towards it.”

The way here.

I’ve been going through a bit of a transformation lately. It’s been a few years in the process, but the chrysalis is opening, and the view is great!

I think the most recent revelation in this evolution has been in finding that I’m sincerely content to be where I am while at the same time looking forward to all the years yet to come. I’m actually excited for 50, though not wanting to miss a second of all the years in between.

This is in contrast to how I was living. Internally I felt that there just wasn’t time – everything had to be rushed and was eminent because life was in fast forward. While I always was one to “suck the marrow” from life, this frenetic, whirlwind living I think really started after September 11th. Time froze while at the same time I felt like it went into overdrive. I never got out of that gear – not really. Not internally. I was almost in a panic to do and see all that for which I hoped and planned. I knew my mortality and was putting all sorts of energy into racing against it.

Suddenly, though, I feel like I have time. I’m resting in knowing me; knowing I accomplish what I set out to do, so it will happen. In the mean time, I’m here. That’s kind of great. My mortality hasn’t changed, just my perspective on how to be with it.

There’s another level to this, too. It’s the whole thing about feeling and looking (and acting!) younger than I am... This has always been a fantastic thing in my book. (What woman doesn’t want to frequently be taken for 10 years younger than she is??) Now, however, I’m really quite proud and grateful to be my age. Because it took to here to be so grounded and solid in who I am. No thoughts of what others think or how my family might react. My perspectives and beliefs won’t be altered by other’s judgments... no matter how much I might love them.

Considering my world view is so far from my entire, very large and well loved, extended family as well as the community I was so vigorously involved in for my first 35 years of life – the only community I’ve known, in fact - that is an extreme statement. Their disagreements and judgments on my Weltanschauung won’t cause me to waiver from it. If I am very blessed, they might one day understand I haven’t left my faith – only expanded it. But I can’t concern myself with the reactions of others, positively or negatively, when it comes to this subject. I embrace and accept others where they are at... I don’t ask them to do it/think it/feel it my way. I try to meet them where they are at and hopefully I will grow by embracing and understanding them.

Now, to looking young... sure, it gets me in more places and gives me access to more people who wouldn’t normally talk to (or date!) someone my actual age, but I love what those extra years have brought me. Suffering.

Because it’s only when you come out on the other side of deep pain and loss, that engulfing kind of brokenness, that you know your true strength. You know how deep your courage runs. Your footing there is solid and unwavering. You know yourself utterly. And can rest in that.

When you get there, to that place of peace with the ever-present pain, you will find real joy and passion again (likely in fits and starts, but you will find it). In fact, it will be richer because of the freedom taming such a ferocious beast brings. You will be full.

What a miraculous place to be. Hooray for aging!

Great expectations.

Indulgence. Why is that such a hard concept for me when it comes to reading? Up until a few years ago I mostly read by mood. I’m in the mood for a classic, I pick one and read it. I’m in the mood for fluff, so be it. I’m in the mood for a WW2 biography, bring it on!

Then I joined, and quickly was helping lead, an online book club. Suddenly I had a list. I was passionate about this list. No, to be honest it wasn’t so much passion as compulsion. I get that way about lists. So I collected all but 4 of the 118 books on the list I didn’t yet own, plus a few on the periphery group list as well. Sadly, I found two other lists to obsess about on top of the first. It wasn’t pretty. (I blame my ex – everything was his fault during that time!) After a while it kind of felt like a chore to read the books the group chose. I didn’t like that it felt that way, because often they were books I was really looking forward to and occasionally, it was even a title I had selected.

The other compulsion that occasionally overcomes me when selecting my next book is this feeling that I “ought to” read something. I think this comes a bit from being a literature major, as well as being someone who wants to continue to expand my brain and be “well-read.” It also comes from my upbringing in that you do the difficult and unenjoyable first, then if there is time you can do something pleasurable. (This didn’t serve me well in college because I loved my major so I’d always leave that work for last and things I would have aced I struggled with!) The trouble with the “ought to” mentality is that when I’m not into a book, I flounder.

I guess what I’m saying is that I need to read for joy. This means being excited, anticipating, and being in the mood to read it. Also, I need to quit selecting something because it’s on a list and I want to keep crossing books off. I need to read what interests me in the moment, and along the way, those books will get read because it will be the right timing and my mood will take me there.

So, the question becomes, what books in my to-read pile am I most looking forward to reading? What have I delayed reading for those “ought to’s” and list books? These are what I came up with:

• The Gun Seller by Hugh Laurie
• The Scapegoat by Daphne du Maurier
• Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome
• Ballad of the Whiskey Robber by Julian Rubinstein
• American Gods and the other unread books by Neil Gaiman
• The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim
• The Inkheart Trilogy by Cornelia Funke
• All Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett titles I haven’t yet read
• The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexander Dumas
• North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell
• The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins
• Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
• I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith
• Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino
• Shades of Grey by Jasper Fforde
• The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Series by Douglas Adams

It’s a pretty eclectic list. Actually, there are quite a few more, but these seem to float to the surface most often when I’m looking at my library and wishing. Oh, and these are just from the books I already own (except for the complete canons of Gaiman, Chandler, & Hammett – still a few to fill in on each). Also, this list doesn't include recommended books I'm excited for either.

So, while I’m sure I’ll continue to intersperse some of the more educational and spiritual reads, I’m excited to start diving in to my joy and reading these. The trouble is choosing just one with which to begin!

Time to indulge…

The place of pondering.

I sit here on a lovely rainy day pondering. I think that’s one reason I love rain so much – the sound is restful and somehow rejuvenating and in that it gives my mind time and space to consider without the usual stresses. Well, that can happen so long as I don’t run headlong into my day, at least.

What came to mind as I listened to the trickling of the water in the drainpipes, the drops touching down on various surfaces, the swish of the distant cars as the fresh puddles shoot out from below their tires, was the Way of the Tao.

Isn’t it interesting how sometimes you pick up books at random, in a moment you want something different than what you’re in the middle of for instance, and in the end they all seem to relate? One night recently, on a whim, I picked up the tiny tome call What Is Tao? by Alan Watts. Concise as it is, it manages to effectively convey the essentials of the Tao. Having finished that, I grabbed The Tao of Pooh and now and then delved into this easy read.

The thing that most effects me about the Way of the Tao is that it is in the rhythms of nature. It isn’t the worship of nature, but is a kind of respect for nature that we whom have grown up in Western cultures can’t truly understand immediately. This is because in the Eastern cultures they don’t see human beings as standing apart or dominating over nature, but as an integral part of it, fitting right in to it. From a Western perspective, this is revolutionary.

When I started reading these two books, I was already making my way through John Muir’s My First Summer in the Sierra and No Impact Man by Colin Beavan. John Muir was a devout Christian, yet he saw the hand of the divine in nature. When speaking of poison oak and poison ivy he said, “Like most other things not apparently useful to man, it has few friends, and the blind question, ‘Why was it made?’ goes on and on with never a guess that first of all it might have been made for itself.” John Muir may never have know about the Tao, but he understood it.

In No Impact Man, Mr. Beavan talks about the day that he and his family had planned on walking across the bridge from Manhattan to go to a birthday party, but when the day came it wasn’t just raining, it was a torrential downpour. So instead, they stayed home and relaxed and just spent time together. No rushing off in a cab to do the 101 things that we all pack into our “time off” because they were on the journey of a year without making a negative impact on the environment. That day more than any other he felt how the rhythms of nature, even in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world, is within each of us. He noticed how when we pay attention to these things, when we move within them, we are happier and more connected to the people around us, not just nature.

One of my favorite stories so far from No Impact Man was how on another day when it was raining, he was walking somewhere or other with his daughter on his shoulders. Feeling guilty that because of his choice to do this no impact challenge his daughter was having to be out in this weather. He was trying to hold the umbrella so that she would not get wet, but she was crying. Then a gust of wind blew the umbrella over and rain poured on both of them, and his daughter stopped crying. After he righted the umbrella she started crying again. After a couple of times of this he realized that she’s not crying because she was getting wet, rather she was crying because the umbrella is stopping her from getting wet. In his words, here’s his realization in that moment:

“And on this rainy day, here is what happens when I treat my body as something more than a means to transport my head, when I finally learn to treat the landscape as something more than the space that stands between where I am now and where I want to be later:

I take Isabella down from my shoulders and let her jump in a puddle, soaking her shoes and her pants. For fun, I jump in the puddle, too. Isabella laughs. She stretches out her arms with her palms facing up to catch the rain. She opens her mouth, sticks her tongue out and leans her head back. I try it, too.

When did the child in me disappear?

People are running past. They look desperate, miserable, trying to get out of the rain. What has happened to us?”

I think I’ve always kept the child in me, splashing in puddles and loving playing in the rain, for instance. But also, I am a person of the journey, appreciating the path often more than the destination. Also, I have often felt that there is no place better to find the divine than in nature. To connect with the Way of the Tao has for me been more of an understanding of how I relate naturally as well as how I move through the journey.

Reading the Tao Te Ching, the main source of understanding the Tao, is an interesting process this time around. It is causing me to question my ambition. But it is also giving me permission to find rest and contentment in this time of intense struggle with my situation and my lack.

In sharing this, I’m not saying I’ve converted to some new faith, but rather that I feel knowing about the Tao enhances and deepens the faith I have. It gives me a mind for the whole rather than a part. I see creation, not simply man, when exercising my faith. I have always had an affinity for this way, but until it was explained to me I accepted the idea of man’s domination, if uncomfortably.

I think when I started to see the world in this ancient way, I also understood how much less I need in order to feel the fullness of joy. If you know me or have been reading here for a bit, you know that I’m a purger, trying to keep myself free of so much stuff that weighs us down. But isn’t it so much a better idea to simply not collect these things so that there is no need to purge? I’m not saying strive to be an ascetic and live in deprivation, but more to be thoughtful in what you buy. To have less stuff is to have more time because you needn’t work so much to get it and you have less to clean and sort and put away. Not a bad trade.

I look forward to exploring the Way of the Tao more. I look forward to feeling the rain on my tongue and appreciating the wind on my face. I look forward to being fully present and having the time to connect wholly with those around me. I look forward, but only in that I am completely engaged now so I know whatever comes I will be the same then – engaged and ready.

What was discovered there.

This weekend I did another event with the same meetup group. This time it was a docent lead tour of the town I grew up next to, followed by a hike in the hills behind it and a picnic supper under the Redwood trees.

The tour about town was fun and informative, but a little odd since I’ve basically lived there since age seven. Still, it was a kick. The docent was new (I have a sneaking suspicion this was her first time) but she was quite good. The most fun thing I learned was that Lillian Fontaine brought up her daughters Olivia deHavilland and Joan Fontaine here! As an classic film lover, this was astoundingly cool to discover.

But I must say I came alive on the hike. This area of California… well, we are incredibly blessed. It’s unbelievable how stunningly beautiful it is. With the forests that have survived their giant ancestors being cut out 100 years ago, it still thrives. From the most elegant, almost lacy, little plants along the path like the Maiden Hair, to the great Redwoods, it’s lush and vibrant, and quite frankly life-giving.

I nearly didn’t go on the hike, fearing I mightn’t keep up and hold up the group. But the group was four of us, all completely enamored of the nature surrounding us. I gamboled all over the mountains, becoming the kid I am. The others laughed at me as I chattered like a five year old, completely in my element and happier than I’ve been in quite a while. They expressed their shock at discovering I wasn’t 15 years younger than I am (probably would have thought younger had this been their first experience of me). But most of all they found it too funny that I thought I’d not be keeping up with them. I mean, I probably walked twice as much as them in my excitement and contented joy.

But the very best part was when the sent me ahead to see if the path continued on or not, and I discovered something… interesting. There was a bit of a clearing, and in the center of it was an eight foot stick standing upright in the ground with a colorful ribbon tied to the top of it. Beyond it was a small circle of trees, as happens with Redwoods, that had long branches placed in such a way that all sides of the circle had about a four foot high wall, save where the entrance was coming from the clearing. On the two larger trees that formed the door there were imitation flower leis about seven feet up.

As I approached it, I took in the four foot high stump with three candles, broken pieces of celestial stone work, and another flower on it. To the right of the entrance I noticed a broken stone disk of the sun, but it was what was posted below the lei on the right hand tree forming the entrance that caught my attention. The others hadn’t caught up, so I had time to read the wooden plaque. It read:

LOVE

There is no difficulty that enough love will not conquer;
no disease that enough love will not heal;
no door that enough love will not open;
no gulf that enough love will not bridge;
no wall that enough love will not throw down;
no sin that enough love will not redeem…

It makes no difference how deeply seated may be the trouble;
how hopeless the outlook;
how muddled the tangle;
how great the mistake.
A sufficient realization of love will dissolve it all.
If only you could love enough you would be the happiest and most powerful being in the world . . .
Emmet Fox

Wow. As the others approached, I surveyed where we were exactly. It turns out that it was at a meeting of five paths, none of these paths were man made, but extended out from this clearing. It was fascinating. And beautiful.

This was, in our communal opinion, a place to receive a (pagan*) blessing for love – whether with your partner or in hope for the future of an individual. It wasn’t until we’d explored several of these paths and returned that I finally decided that I wanted some of that, so I entered. I took it all in, looking up at the sky through the tall branches that met in the center of the circle far, far above me, to the hand-dyed celestial tarp that was lightly buried beneath the debris of the forest, to the lovely scarf wound around a fallen branch that slanted from the back in (and was perfectly placed to hang a lantern from) and the necklace also attached with a charm reading “I ♥ Ashton.” I felt as if love was brought there, sought there, and found there.

I felt more than thought my prayer, and with the joy of an explorer who has made a delicious discovery, I scampered on to again overtake my group so that I can come back with more to show them.

*When I say pagan I refer to the original meaning of “belonging to the country,” or those who believe in honoring and respecting nature, not the blanket term adopted much later by those of the Christian faith to mean “ungodly.”

The gathering.

Today I attended the Tartan Day Scottish Fair about 45 minutes from my home. I was meant to go with a Meetup group, but they canceled for fear of rain. A little rain never scared me away, and indeed it never did rain anyway. I was too excited for this event not to go.

I’ve never attended one of these things, though I’d wanted to for some time. This was a small gathering, but I must say, SO MUCH FUN. I had no idea about all the things that go on. What I did expect was shopping booths, the clan booths, and Scottish music, but I did not expect all the different reenactments and interactive displays. Nor did I expect how outstanding and diverse the music would be. I learned a lot and laughed and danced and met lovely people and spent WAY too much money. I don’t regret a bit of it, though.

On the historical side of the event, there was a family that set up camp and dressed up as if they were Scots from first century BC. Just down the way was a Viking tent with all sorts of interesting weaponry and protection. This group not only put on a display, but explained what kind of person would be wearing each costume and why. There were those dressed as if they were from more of the upper echelons of historical Scottish society, including royalty. (“Excuse me, your Majesty.”) And of course, there were all different aspects of what everyday life would have been for the Scots of the day. The traditional kilts, the sword fighting with actual steel blades, and the feasts were all spectacular.

I confess, I met a gentleman that turned my eye. I actually blushed in his presence. I don’t do blushing. The funny thing is, he was big and burly with long hair, a great scruffy beard, and a belly, but his genuine character and kind nature shone the moment I met him and all that other stuff I mentioned that I’d normally avoid was suddenly quite attractive. QUITE. And yes, the kilt and kit made him that much hotter!

There was a birds of prey display that was outstanding. They had hawks and falcons, but they also had a huge eagle that was stupendous and gorgeous. They would walk around with them in and amongst the rest of us. It was amazing to be so close to an animal that regularly hunts for live food.

As for shopping, I was doing just fine - a CD here, a necklace there – until I found a kilt. It’s just a simple black cotton one, but it looks so good on me. I was avoiding, avoiding, but I couldn’t resist. Basically, I’ll wear it as skirt and love it. I'm sure I will feel ridiculous doing so when I actually move to Scotland, but I will enjoy it nonetheless. I’d love to have one exactly like this:

because this is actually my clan tartan, but as this is a designer gown (Alexander McQueen) that’s not very likely. It’s crazy how expensive it is to even get the fabric in your clan tartan in order to have a kilt, or anything else, made. So for now it’s crazy tights and a “fun” skirt (a.k.a. the new kilt).

Anyway, if you ever have the chance and like to learn as well as hang out with really down-to-earth folks, I highly recommend attending a Scottish Fair. For me, the music alone makes this kind of event worth it. The rest made it... a perfect day.

*If you didn't get the pun in the title, you REALLY need to watch more movies. "There can be only one."

What it's really about.

A good friend of mine has been trying for ages to get me to check out a website called CouchSurfing. It’s this fantastic site for… well I was going to say for travelers, but really it’s for people who want to connect with individuals from other places and cultures. Obviously I finally took a look – and signed up straightaway.

When filling out the profile, I really liked that they had a section for “Teach, Learn, Share.” Under the premise that surfing isn’t just about a place to sleep, but about an exchange, they gave a place to share any sort of special knowledge or insights you might have.

So when I got to that section, the following is what I shared…

When I was simply crossing a park in Athens on my way to someplace ancient, carting my bag as well as some leftovers which were meant for my supper, I came across three homeless men. The only three I saw in that country, I believe. They spoke to me, eventually in perfect English, with respect and politeness they tried to induce me to stop for a moment. I'm a girl, traveling alone in my first foreign country in a shrouded area at dusk. What did I do? I stopped. Sure there were things I wanted to see, places I wanted to go, but this was after all truly Greece right here in the park.

After some conversation around a burning trash barrel by a park bench, they insisted I eat with them - & were insulted when I pulled out my own food. First of all, the food they shared was phenomenal - the churches made sure they were very well fed, so it was one of the best meals I had in Greece. But then chatting with them I discovered that one of them had worked for years at one of the most famous restaurants in New York. He told me about serving all the famous people of the 60's & 70's and who really had been magnificent and who had been horrid. Another had been a merchant marine & told of some thrilling adventures & travels as well. The third told shyly of the love of his life, whom had eventually died after many years of joy together. We all talked and laughed into the wee hours.

In the end, I discovered the one who had lived in America had recently inherited a tiny two room flat, and knowing I hadn't yet found a bed for the night, insisted I stay at his place. The other two explained they were homeless by choice. They enjoyed this life, even on cold January nights like that one. Indeed, they were some of the most contented people I'd ever met. I'll never forget any of them nor those hours around the rubbish bin fire where they, each one, enriched my life.

Never discount the little moments. Take every opportunity to embrace life, but even more to experience the people around you, whatever their status. Don't miss the people for the place; don't miss the now for the past; don't miss the beauty in front of you for the dust on it's shell.

There is so much more to that story, like how horrid my host’s home smelled because he had recently painted it… and they put crazy stuff in their paint there. I believe I may have experienced something akin to an acid trip. I mean, I wouldn’t know because I’ve never dropped acid, but… it was SOMETHING. In that neat, sparse room were there REALLY bed bugs, or was it all part of the hallucination?

Still, great people, great experience, and many, many great stories… all because I stopped for people most pretend don’t exist.

Simply luscious.

What makes a day a good day?

Today I woke up to a fresh doughnut (thanks Dad!) and coffee while enjoying the end of last night’s Olympics (Ohno! Kearney! So exciting!). I then put on a cute skirt with fancy tights and my still-pretty-new boots and headed out to the farmer’s market. Sheer joy. I can’t explain why. I think it reminds me of when I lived in Italy… except far more international with sellers originally from Tunisia and India and Portugal, to name a very few.

Maybe because I know after I’m done I’m going to my favorite French-American fusion café, located right on the strip of the market, for the lightest, most delicious crepe imaginable. Today I upped the ante by getting champagne instead of café au lait, and when the chef/owner found out I didn’t have a sweetheart, he gave me a tuxedoed chocolate strawberry – very sweet – as well as instructions on how I need to find a French man for real romance. I even got a second glass of champagne on the house! Best of all I laughed with a lovely couple from Australia during all of this.

I also walked into the local used bookstore on the off chance that a specific copy of a book I wanted might be there, fully expecting to have to go elsewhere as they didn’t have it only days ago. But there it was! Just EXACTLY what I wanted – and for so little!

I eventually wandered home to snack on a fresh hummus and warm pita, finishing with a perfect cup of tea. Then after a quick change, I was off to the park for a long, brisk walk around the lake – a big deal with the ankle still recovering. It was lovely, if packed with couples taking a Valentines stroll. It felt like spring with trees flowering here and there. I finished lounging on my blanket on the hillside overlooking the lake, reading until dusk.

Now, after a warm shower (under a wonderful new shower head) and a fresh and light dinner, I’m enjoying the Olympics before watching a movie!

So, little joys, fun interactions with people on an international level, delightful surprises, tasty treats, refreshing exercise made up this good day. But even more, purposing that it would be good made it so. I chose to believe it would be, and my outlook made all the difference. Now if I could just remember to do that more often…

Anyway, after sharing about “one of those days” recently, it seemed right to share this simple yet wonderful day as well. I hope in the days to come you find delights around every corner.

Best pick-up line EVER.

(Well, by a geek to a geek at least.)

It was last year, and I was in a frustrated and miserable state as my car, which I’d just the day before dropped a bunch of money into to replace the radiator while on a trip, had not even 11 miles later fizzled into eternal death. By that time, however, I had crossed the San Francisco bay (from Marin to Oakland) and there was not a soul I knew in the vicinity.

So I waited for a tow truck (that was going to suck even more money out of me) to make its way up from home in the south bay to where my car had breathed it’s last. I was stuck in a sort of in-between place, so had to walk some distance to find a spot in which to finally eat. It was a restaurant next to a boat dock.

I go in, and head upstairs to the less… romantic area. I ascend the stairs into a raucous, merry world filled with local fishermen and posh yacht owners swilling together. There were peanut shells on the floor, and dice rolling around on the bar.

I reached the top and INSTANTLY became the center of attention. Oh, and you can believe me, I (also instantly) decided I was going to have some serious fun with this!

I was invited to sit many places, but chose the table at the head of the stairs, just next to the bar, that was filled with a motley group. Sort of a large “welcoming table” as you got to watch the ebb and flow of customers… and discuss said customers at length in front of them if you wished (apparently this was the local custom).

Now, in that mix, some of the guys were complete idiots (to be expected) attempting to pick me up by insulting me and calling me a liar. As a side note, the irony was it was the one thing I wasn’t… “misleading” about! You see, I’d also decided to just be evasive about everything, so that when they questioned me about what I did for a living, they decided it was whatever they suggested because I didn’t stop them from thinking that. So I had a myriad of occupations (and a plethora of names), depending on who you talked to!

There were other guys that offered, and did, buy my drinks and my meal. There were some that were so drunk they could only say sexual things to me as their friends laughed nervously, while I, smartalec that I am, had scathingly awesome comebacks that the drunk guy couldn’t follow, but which his buddies so admired that they rather were in awe of me. There were others that were overly polite trying to make up for the rest of them. In all, I was on top of my game, witty as all get-out, and having the time of my life!

But then there was the guy next to me. Sigh. It’s true, my geek-love set in. He had the hot geek-style glasses, was thin and tall as I often lust after, and was, I discovered, quite smart. He thought I was a quantum physicist.

He took his time at starting to talk to me, and when he did it was to “save me” from the idiot who wouldn't stop insulting me in a twisted attempt to win me over. So the geek turned my stool toward his and started chatting. It was natural for both of us and we matched wits well. He wasn’t trying to pick up on me in the least, but just trying to keep that rude guy from annoying me. We continued to interact sporadically with the entire table, but focused more on each other. Then as his confidence grew with my attention, he started telling me this great story.

Did I know, he wondered, that we are all made of stardust? He talked about eons ago how different stars exploded and their molecules were blown across the galaxies. He told me how we are now made up of these molecules. He also talked about how molecules have memory and how if they’ve ever been linked, they remember and are drawn to those once connected molecules. In his thoughtful, rapturous monologue, he continued his thought process with, “Wouldn’t it be interesting if some of your molecules were from the same star as some of my molecules and that’s why we were drawn together? We are from from the same star...”

Completely involved in his story, he was intending on continuing, but I sucked in my breath, my eyes wide, I said, “BEST PICK-UP LINE EVER!” He was completely thrown and couldn’t remember what he was going to say… instead, red as a beet, he finally grinned.

Yes, it turned out he was married. But this event made flirting the rest of the evening, in the midst of and while participating in the chaotic revelry of that place and the phrenetic enthusiasm of our table, until the tow showed up a blast – no worries about it being taken seriously either way. We could be saucy and sassy and know that this was it. This moment. It was, in the end, a perfect moment. All thanks to my car deciding THAT was the spot she wanted to “shuffle off this mortal coil.”