Who am I kidding? I'm happy.

I am happy.

When I started this blog, I thought: OK. We'll do this blog thing until I get my book deal and that will be the big fat cherry on top, the final entry. Hasn't happened quite yet.

Still happy.

Not living with my cosmic man.

Still happy.

The Next Big Thing...is me staying where I am. Signing a year's lease. STAYING. Me, queen of itchy feet. STAYING. I took a walk on the beach today, letting the ocean chase my feet, sipping my oolong tea (Iron Goddess of Mercy) and suddenly I was inspired to belt out a song. I mean loud, too.

Sit, stay, breathe. Be happy.

Single in your 30s

I read this article on single women in their 30s in the New York Times (it tickled me that it was in the Fashion & Style section). It's not Carrie Bradshaw, but a touching look at the question the author and her single friends asked themselves when they reached the mid-thirties, unmarried:

What's wrong with me?

Sara concludes that the answer isn't about something being wrong - but the timing being right. The right guy comes at the right time. Totally! I like her. And I'd like to read the book her byline says she's writing about women who get married after age 35.

When I lived in Mexico, every male I met asked me this question:

Where is your husband? And your babies?

I felt defensive then. Now, I think, well: he's on the way. He's looking for me, I'm looking for him, and our paths are bound to cross. I've had a lot of great love - even great romance - along the way. And truthfully, I've been traveling so much it's no wonder he couldn't find me!

I welcome being found.

Love and... Ludacris?

Lately I've been trying zazen, the Buddhist practice of sitting. It's not your usual meditation - an emptying of the mind. This is sitting with what is, letting your mind range - and moving forward from there. What's coming up for me is loneliness. If happiness is accepting what is, then I can't get happy with being alone anymore.

I accept that it is unacceptable for me to be without my love any longer!

Take that, Buddha.

I am fucking lonely. I am happy with who I am, where I've been, where I'm going...and I am ready to share. NOW. I'm not afraid to say these things. I want to be held. To touch and be touched. To fall asleep with someone, wake up with someone, adventure together through this thing called life.

Being alone even one more day is completely unacceptable to me.

And on a completely unrelated note, I heard this fun song by Ludacris in my car yesterday, My Chick Bad. The hook caught me:

My chick bad
My chick hood
My chick do stuff that your chick wish she could

I have always enjoyed Ludacris, ever since What's Your Fantasy.

Blues rock is my drug of choice but you've gotta admit: a lot of the edgiest stuff that's come out in recent decades is rap. Nelly, Eminem, Missy Elliot, Ludacris.

Don't even get me started on Country Grammar. When that came out, NOTHING sounded like it. It was revolutionary, fool!

So if you're looking for a woman who's unafraid of sharing her dark feelings and jamming to some rap from the Dirty South...I'm your gal.

Crush and Ganesh

Look who I saw yesterday: Ganesh! My friend M told me that he has a big head, telling you to think big and go beyond your limitations. Also, he has big ears, telling you to listen and follow what you hear.

I have a crush. He's a beautiful artist. I saw him looking at me. And hopefully he saw me looking at him. I gave him my phone number.

I wonder where the story goes from here.

Om Gum Ganapatayei Namaha
Salutations to Ganesh, remover of obstacles

Bynum Bridge: doesn't it make you feel good?

Cosmic joke

I've been weighing two options. Let's call them THIS and THAT, to keep it simple. I've managed to get pretty tangled in my deliberations...

Is THIS or THAT better? If I do THAT then does it mean I can never do THIS again? THAT doesn't really align with who I am anymore, so is it wrong to even try it? Will THAT fuck me up in the head? THIS may not last, so should I worry? THIS seems foolhardy, while THAT seems onerous. Is THAT what it's come to? Am I worthy of THIS?

Hoo boy.

I meditated about it. I read some cards. I asked friends. I wrote about it. I tossed a coin. I made a list of pros and cons.

Then, thankfully, I realized (or remembered!): it doesn't matter if I do THIS or THAT. My choice is irrelevant. What matters is how I do it: happy, calm, in the flow, laughing. Because it's all a big cosmic joke. Laugh at the cosmic joke!

Look at me

That's what this cardinal seems to be saying. Look at me. How can you miss me with this fabulous red coat on? These sexy guys are all over the woods where I'm staying. In fact, all kinds of funky animal friends are busting out in the woods: big spiders, a bullfrog, owls, hawks, deer.

This cool little North Carolina vortex of life is helping me bust out some words and art, too. My creativity is off the charts right now.

Look at me. Not the cardinal! Me, the writer. If you've ever wondered what it's like to live straight from your gut, this is it, baby. It's all magic, all the time.

Sometimes magic can hurt. Just saying! But if you've been reading my blog (and if you haven't, you can always catch up in the archive!) you know the tasty secret: the pain is outpaced by the pleasure.

Helloooo, 2011!

Tracey Emin's "You Should Have Loved Me," 2008.
Courtesy of the North Carolina Museum of Art - on current exhibition

Today I braved Maine-like windchills to go the North Carolina Museum of Art. I was thoroughly impressed with the exhibitions, the space, and the redesigned grounds.

Above is the most delectable piece. Raw, gorgeous emotion. I saw Tracey Emin's "Love Poem" (another neon, in glorious hot pink) in Vienna a few years ago and it left me breathless.

Oh...speaking of breathless, she says girlishly. Said trip to the museum was a first date. With a lovely redheaded boy.

And he brought me flowers!

Can a man and woman be friends? part two

A snippet of conversation with another male friend...

Me: Are we friends?

Him: Yes. But if you were my wife, I wouldn't be able to help myself. When you walked in the door at night, I'd rip your clothes off and roll you around on the floor. If the door was still open and the neighbors happened to walk by, hell, I'd just kick it shut with my foot. I wouldn't stop for anything.

Me: Wow. Even if I were wearing these chickenshit boots? (I am housesitting for a friend who has chickens and, well...)

Him: When you've got it, it can't be covered up, woman.

Can a man and woman be friends?

Sleeping on an airbed in your ex-boyfriend's spare bedroom will do wonders for self-discovery. In fact, just being around your ex in a non-sexual way will do wonders for said self-discovery.

Last night we watched When Harry Met Sally and at some point, this inevitable dialogue ensued...

Me: Are we friends?
Him: Sure. Although it's not like me with my guy friends and you with your girlfriends.
Me: More intimate.
Him: Yeah.
Me: I mostly don't want to sleep with you.
Him: Errr....

I admit it: I crave love.

This is yummy!

Notice how you feel as you speak the following: "The strong, independent part of me resisted the embarrassing truth for a long time, but I finally came to accept that I'm someone who craves vast amounts of love. Ever since I surrendered to this need, it doesn't nag me all the time, as it used to. In fact, it feels comforting, like a source of sweetness that doesn't go away. I never thought I'd say this, but I've come to treasure the feeling of having a voracious yearning to be loved."

Courtesy of Rob Brezny's PRONOIA Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You with Blessings.

Teeny pleasures

Talking with M, she said, "I am someone who takes pleasure in small things. But my mom: she is happy with really small things. Things like sharp new scissors, or fresh milk."

And I thought: what a blessing. Being blissed out with the nuances of life that usually fly under most people's radar. I know people who'd need a private jet to make them happy. And people who get happy with an extra 10 minutes of sleep, or a light bulb, or a juicy peach.

I'm aligning myself with the sharp new scissors people. Because then everything is joyous and magical, not just the expensive, the extravagant, the large.

Thank you for some teeny pleasures in my life...

• Blueberry honey
• A lime
• Soft blue bath mat
• How good my pillow felt last night
  

Time out for thanks

Returning to Maine, I stayed in a hotel before moving to a little studio someone helped me find. Alas, it had a raging mold problem. I couldn't stay even one night. I landed back at the hotel again, car full of dirty clothes and the flotsam and jetsam of my life, numb with my situation. No home no job nowhere girl.

Never take for granted a roof over your head or a place to wash your underwear!

Then my friend K sent a note, saying I could stay at his place for a few weeks. In honor of this kindness, I wanted to take time to say Thank You! to all who have helped me so far on my journey:

• N, for smiling at me
  
• R & M, for being my family
• TRB, for making me the brave bad-ass I am today
• M & C, for the lake and the house in town
  
• M, for a bed in your fairy garden home
• D & B, for the place over the Thai restaurant
• C, for being my winter anchor and "Connection"
  
• My yoga teachers J, J, and MB
• My massage gurus E, A, and T
• K, mi amiga, for your infinite heart
• F, for absolute loyalty and unconditional love
• K and J, for room and board in Maine
  
• K, for keeping me in smiles and roses

And the beauty is: my journey continues still!

Ultimo dia en Mexico

Last day in Mexico. Everything took on a new sheen, down to the 3am techno music wake up call and dusty streets.

My mind said how can you leave Mexico? My heart answered you don't leave Mexico. It stays in you forever, no matter where you go.

My Mexican friends only said cuando regresas? When are you coming back? For them it was a given that I was only leaving for a little while.

I started this blog to chronicle the journey from Maine to Mexico. Today I realized that somewhere along the way, I'd already placed a period after Maine. Winter in Maine. Period.

And yet, God had placed a comma. Maine, the place where I'll go through the editing process.

I feel quite comfortable with the continuation of From Icy to Spicy because while I will be departing Vallarta, I've become one spicy woman.

So stay tuned.

Shooting star

Last night I talked to a new friend from neon-pink sunset until the stars came out and beyond. We lay on the sand, looking up at the sky and out of nowhere this marvelous laughter. All night, this laughter cascading parading serenading out of me.

me encanta mexico
i love mexico

The place where

The place where he touched my arm burned, melting into my body.

Yearning...

There's something that keeps invading my thoughts. At a yoga workshop, I once met a woman who said that she spent seven hours kissing one of the loves of her life. She said that nothing else ever happened between them but that epic liplock on a porch overlooking a river.

After so much time, that kiss would move beyond lust, beyond the physical, beyond to a spiritual - a mystical - experience.

Seven hours.

Kissing.

Cannot stop thinking about it.

¡Fiebre primaveral!

It means spring fever. And that's just what's hit Maine this weekend. The beach was packed with people. Everyone was smiling. I even met a woman with a dog who was half wolf. She - the dog, not the woman - dipped her pink tongue into the ocean and then sneezed.

For me, spring fever awoke this morning with the intense desire to dress up for dinner. I mean tall boots, dress, and eye makeup. Off with the fleece, jeans, and Uggs and on with something fancy!

I called the man who works at the eyeglasses shop. (I just got a new pair).

"Hi, S?"

"Oh, Kelly, your frames aren't ready yet."

"No, well, um, I'm calling for another reason. You said you were looking for a reason to dress up. That you don't get a chance to dress up as much since you moved from New York City."

"Uh huh." He's sounding confused here.

"So I thought, why don't we grab a bite to eat and dress up together? Sounds fun, right? Good conversation, fancy clothes?"

"Oh. Oh! I am so flattered. But I have to tell you, I'm a married man, so I don't think that would be appropriate. But oh, so flattering!" Now he's sounding quite pleased with himself.

I agreed with him and hung up. I'll chalk that one up to the rising of the sap...

I love you, too

There's not a lot of color in Maine in February. But I've got an audacious florist friend who keeps me steeped in nature's palette. A little eye candy. Thanks, K!

Like this glorious rose above, which opened into a cosmic message of love. Spectacular.

And meet "Shocking Versilia." Quite the strong, masculine rose, don't you think? I love a nice, straight stem. Insert dirty joke here.

He's watching over me as I write...