This Is What It's Like: An Eleven Block Walk On A Night In June

This is what it's like.

It's only finishing half of my drink because we're at a restaurant on the corner of your street and I can't risk drinking more than a few sips. It's being proud of myself for siting there and only giving an occasional fuck about it, but mostly none at all.

It's nearly tugging myself up the street when I want to do nothing more than run directly to your apartment.

It's feeling proud of myself with literally each step I take toward my home.

It's less than two blocks in and passing the place we would meet at to grab a lemonade for me and a grilled cheese for you and feeling satisfied and sad in seeing the chairs have changed, like it was done in acknowledgement of our parting. I imagine management holding a meeting about it and laugh.

It's another two blocks up and passing the mexican restaurant where you fidgeted around as you spoke with frustration over this business, your insecurities bright. Where, outside, you wrapped your arm around me, tugging me in to you, still on the phone with your brother, whom I already loved without ever meeting. The place where I passed on seeing you later and wondering if that was The Night.

It's the place right next to that where we ate the last meal we had together. Where I insisted on dining with someone else soon after just so it wouldn't look like you anymore.

If I turn my head away from this place and look to my left, my eyes land directly where we sat and had one of the most important conversations of our time together, and probably the realest. A place I take myself to almost daily because it is my favorite regardless of your existence. Proof that you, nor anyone, can ever take away anything good in my life as long as I claim my joy to be mine.

It is just a few feet away from the spot where I saw you last, the amount of tears on your face only outweighed by the amount of pain and confusion covering it. A place where I walk my dogs up and down and back again and don't think of it as I laugh over their antics and say hello to the people I've grown to know there.

It's hitting my block and remembering you just spent all of last week working right here and not once did you walk the three minutes to my door. It's hating that I don't get to hear about the experience.

It's coming inside and distracting myself with social media and seeing one of your best friend's face pop up on my newsfeed, and another on my instagram, because I'm finally now aware that I'm an artist and our communities are overlapping far too often. Namely because they are the same community.

And this is just one night, one walk home, less than an hour's time.

This is what it's like.

It's choosing myself over you, every day, every minute.
It's talking to God about you every morning, praying that He works in your heart daily.
It's walking on other streets, other blocks, turning left instead of right, purposefully.
It's walking wherever I damn well please.
It's listening to old voicemails from you every time another boy kisses me, your voice coming through my phone like a blanket wrapped around my heart.
It's knowing, absolutely knowing, you think my newly acquired, varied, and consistent success and happiness actually has something to do with you; being self-centered enough to think you can make or break my career or life, confusing loving someone with thinking you know what's best for them, instead of recognizing the truth or asking me about it.
It's the amount of things I'm dying to tell you, share with you, ask about, piling up so much in my head that I would never remember them all.
It's finally learning, in the most awful way, how to undo the belief systems that told me I couldn't have you and my career, that told me I wasn't good enough, that told me what I was supposed to do and be and say with you, that had cluttered and covered me. It's unlearning all of them at the expense of my heart.
It's caring, it's not caring, it's caring, it's not caring.
It's the beautiful recognition that every time I said my happiness is within me is actually the truth. I had only mostly believed it then, repeated it often to soothe you and motivate me, but now basking it it like God has plucked me out of the darkness and threw me into the light. Because He has.
It's every random, crazy, never-thought-this-would-happen thing that is happening now that tells me each day that I do not know the outcome.

It's not knowing the outcome.

This is what it's like.

on MESSAGES

**I wrote this awhile ago and promptly forgot to post it. Upon finding it, it still feels worthy of sharing. Add on a few weeks when you see the number 3. Add on a few things to my lists. Make them real good in your head, I won't ask.**

We were early on in our walk when Henry froze up. All it takes is a loud truck or a lot of people to stop him in his tracks. I knelt down and he ran directly into my arms, paws using my knee like a launch pad. I pressed my mouth next to his ear and quietly said, "You're safe, I'm right here. I got you, kid."

I looked up and realized I was directly under a large church. The message was not missed.
__

In the last 3 weeks, I have changed my hair color and started to grow out my bangs.
I've begun guitar lessons and begun conversations with musicians and producers.
I've started to work with a doggy behaviorist, finding myself carrying meatballs on each walk.
I've taken on a handful of new clients, more than I expected for the shortest month of the year.
I've gone out with other boys, seen best friends, had visits from people who live across the country.
I've seen three Broadway shows, one reading, and one where men made for gorgeous women.
I've taken myself to the MoMA, to the park, to Lincoln Center, out to eat, to get my nails done.
I've been in auditions, callbacks, on-screen with producers in other states, and recorded endless copy.
I've re-arranged my room, changed out the furniture, planted a vision board next to my bed.
I've purged items and papers and junk and clothing and books, donating to people and garbage cans.
I've had endless dreams where I am going up and down stairs, all types, in all places, always stairs.
__

We were still sitting on the fountain, my favorite place of all, in one of our Conversations. We must have been nearing an hour by then, the summer heat cooling down as evening was settling in. He was continuing on when he said something that struck me:

"I want to know where God is in our relationship."

It quickly became the second best thing he's ever said to me. The first, I realized, had been about God, too.
__

I was antsy tonight. Checking my phone every few seconds. Instagram, texts, facebook, emails, on repeat. I started to work and stopped a million times. I put on a new episode of pretty little liars, my favorite, but my eyes darted around, hands grabbing for the phone again, feet restless. I was mad at God and ignoring the calming voice telling me to pray, to talk it out. I kept picking up my phone instead, clicking back to facebook, when I heard it:

"What are you looking for? You won't find it there. Pray."

This time it didn't feel like a suggestion.
__

In the last 3 weeks, I've looked up apartments in other cities, way too many flights.
I've been given multiple gifts, from people I expected them from and people I do not even know.
I've been to church every Sunday at 12:30, usually running late because of course I am.
I've drunk dialed the safest people I could, the ones across the country, too far to meet up.
I've remembered why I hate drinking and don't do it.
I started on a young artists board with an incredible group of other artists, makers, creatives, thinkers.
I've soulcycled my little heart out, hitting each beat beat beat beat, singing along.
I've reached out to new voice teachers, joined a group to read plays just for the sake of reading them.
I've re-designed my website, re-designed my resume, submitted to endless casting breakdowns.
I've finally finalized plans for my business website and logo with my designer.
I've had amazing opportunities, exciting things that made me jump around with delight.
I've fielded questions about you in a way that has taught me the definition of grace.
I have been busy.
__

I know without a doubt that we are put into situations and frustrations and challenges to learn lessons and grow as humans. I also know none of us have any damn idea what is going to happen next in our lives, despite our desperate and strong beliefs that we definitely-absolutely-totally are planned and ready.

When I talk about following my gut and what I'm called to do, people are excited and on board. When I talk about God, sometimes some of those people are not so sure anymore. To me, it is the same thing. A voice, a calling, guiding me. When I hear "myself" I believe I'm hearing God's will. When I refer to my truth, it's God's truth, too.

For years, I have had this boy on a pedestal but God was not on one. Over the past year, it's started to shift. The pedestal was gone, choosing to stand eye to eye instead, a better view for both of us. I started to talk to God again, started to turn to passages from the bible, started to go back to church and started to really like it. I mean, I named my business after a passage that I love, that I felt called to use. I picked my designer based on a gut instinct that God wanted me to work with her. My life has actually gotten monumentally better in the past year and even better with each step closer back to God. Like, shockingly, surprisingly, mind blowingly better. But still, this boy, my whole heart, my eyes just as wide for him as they are for God. No, even wider. So it's really no wonder to me that I've been flipped up and over and shaken and set back down on the ground without my best friend next to me. It's no wonder that I'm being called back to God even louder now. It's no wonder that I'm being literally forced to replace my fear with my faith. It's also no wonder that I have peace in my heart despite the unknowns and worries coursing through my veins, through my mind. It's no wonder that I am still filled with pure love for him, despite confusion and pain.

And in these past 3-ish weeks, despite the endless list of what I have done, what I had not done yet was hand it on over to God. So tonight I did just that. Take it, lead me, bring me closer to you. Bring him closer to you. If you want us back together, let it be when we're both back with you. Give him the grace he needs to do the work he wants to do in his heart and on his life. Work in him. Work in me. Let him seek out God, that's where he can find me.

We all love a good happy ending. We all nod in agreement as we listen to people talk about how they just needed a month or two apart or a year or two apart in order to realize they didn't want to be apart. We chime in about how important it is to take the time to work on ourselves before being with our partners. But what about while that part is happening? What about the part where we're uncertain, fumbling around like baby deer, just trying to get our footing underneath? What about the middle section of discovering and questioning? The part where the lesson hasn't yet been made fully clear because we're still literally in it? What about the part where we're wildly uncomfortable?
__

I had caved and been talking out loud for a few minutes when Layla started to fuss, moving from my pillow down to the mattress, laying one way before flipping around to the other and kicking her feet into me. I leaned down to her and smoothed her fur, calming her down. "Can't get comfortable, huh? It's okay, I'm right here, you're okay. Shh, you're okay, you're okay."

The message was not missed.

Sunday Nights Are Great For Love Letters.

photos from this week. mainly bc my computer quit and instagram is all I got for ya

Sometimes I just get these clear, calming thoughts. Most likely that's from meditation and the paradox process and, you know, God and the Universe and Nature and all of that. BUT it got me thinking. What if our future selves can reach out to us right now and send us little love messages? So I'm writing myself a love letter from my future, older, wiser self.

Because these are the things I do on a Sunday night and also because I would very much like to have a talk with her soon. Here's what I think she would say.
___

Dear Kerry,

Calm down. It's going to be just fine. All of it. I promise. Calm down.

It's actually a lot more fun to go through life not knowing what's going to happen next. Think about it: haven't all of the best times been things you never saw coming? Yes, they have been. I know that's true because I was there for them, too. I know it feels scary and uncomfortable right now but it won't always feel like this. I know you're worried everything is going to fall to pieces but it won't.

Spoiler alert: we absolutely get everything that is meant for us. All of the meant-for-us things are ours. We win! Yay! I'm not going to tell you what they are because I'd rather you enjoy the experience of your life as it happens but trust me, they are good. Really, really, deliciously, outrageously good. Keeping on that note, we do not get anything that is not meant for us. Another spoiler alert: by now we could give two shits about those things because they were not meant for us. And the things that are meant, that are ours, are so awesome that we can't even remember what those other things were.

You are really, really loved. You are loved so much you can't comprehend it quite yet and that's okay, but it's important you know this. I know you feel kind of crummy right now and I'm sorry. Think about every other time you felt sad, confused, or alone, and remember that each and every time that happens it turns you into a better person. You are not going to feel this way forever. In fact, you already don't feel this way all the time or even most of the time. Don't let the once-in-awhile feeling trick you into believing it's never going to stop.

You've already learned by now that you somehow just know things. You don't understand why or how but there are some clear truths that hit you hard and you simply know them. You know. Stop trying to figure out why you have this gift, stop judging if it's cool or weird and stop messing with your own head and convincing yourself you don't know or you might be wrong. When it comes to these things, you are always right and you do just know. Trust in it. Even, and most especially when it feels scary or hard to trust yourself.

Let him take the time he needs to become the person he wants to be. You can't do it for him, no matter how much you want to. He can't be with you until he figures out who he is and he can't figure out who he is with you by his side. Sometimes the best way to love someone is to let them wade out into the mucky waters by themselves to learn they can figure out how to get back out on their own.. instead of scrambling to build them a canoe and fashion them a life vest and yell like hell from the shore. I know you're scared he won't make it back out and I know you're scared he won't return home to you. But even with all of that fear, you have to let him figure it out on his own. Put down the life vest. He did the same for you.

You're actually doing a lot better than you give yourself credit for. Keep working on giving yourself that credit. Be nice to yourself. You're listening to your calling, and creating the life you want for yourself and that right there is enough to throw a freaking party over. You're living in New York City and you're making it work somehow and that's also worth a celebration. Keep working from the place of serving others and you cannot lose. Remember that gifts are meant to be shared. Quit keeping most of yours to yourself, that's called being selfish. God gave you these gifts for a reason. And sing more, would you? You like to sing.

Just wait until you see how great it gets. Every experience, every pain, every fear was totally worth it to get us to where we are now (something you can already understand, right?). Keep swimming. I love you!

Love,
an older, wiser, incredibly beautiful, still not modest, but happier than a pig in shit,
You

Valentine's Day & The Best Love

obsessed with the brilliant max wanger and his photography skills

I always have these mixed feelings about Valentine's Day. Part of me thinks it's really freaking stupid. I have never seen the point and believe we should love fully, loudly, wholeheartedly each day. But the other part of me sees all the people walking around the city hand in hand, the gaggle of men carrying bouquets of flowers alongside their briefcase with exhaustion all over their face and yet they remembered to stop and grab flowers. The high school students carrying bags with stuffed animals spilling out, chocolates tucked under their arms, and little ones with heart stickers on their faces, book-bags  sweaters, worn proudly to show the world they are loved. And that makes me think it's a pretty okay day after all.

Because at the root of today is love. Love. That delicious, necessary, lesson-filled love. Sneaky devil that one. We deserve love. Let's start there. You and I and everyone we know and everyone we don't know deserve massive amounts of love from the world, from community, and most importantly, within. And how do we do that? I only know how to answer that for myself.

Loving myself looks a whole lot like getting up and brushing my teeth when I'm dead tired and am already face first into the pillow.

Loving myself looks like figuring out what boundaries I need and creating them.

Loving myself looks like 45 minutes of intense spin class as many times a week as my wallet and body can handle.

Loving myself looks like stretching, arms over head, feet moving from flex to point and back again.

Loving myself looks like finishing the emails even when I don't want to, and knowing the difference of when I don't have to.

Loving myself looks like taking a night off to stay in.

Loving myself looks like actively silencing the critical and negative thoughts in my mind and encouraging the positive ones to get louder.

Loving myself looks like two furry nuggets running circles on my bed, paws pressing onto my face, and putting my notebooks/phone/laptop aside to play for a bit.

Loving myself looks like eating. Actual meals. More than once a day.

Loving myself looks like the delicate and difficult practices of forgiving myself and not judging myself.

Loving myself looks like two meditations a day, every day, nonnegotiable.

Loving myself looks like knowing the difference of when to pick up the phone and when to not pick up the phone.

Loving myself looks a whole lot like picking me, standing by me, and not abandoning myself for the people or opportunities that come along and tempt me to leave myself behind, waiting.

Loving myself looks like a smile as wide and as real as I've got, a greeting in the bathroom mirror, knowing my beauty does not live in my make-up bag.

Loving myself looks like taking risks, living out of my comfort zone and trying the scary things.

Loving myself looks like throwing out what I don't need anymore, donating what I can, cleaning the bathroom when I'd rather do anything else in the world. 

Loving myself looks like a gentle reminder that it is definitely not my turn to buy the paper towels, the hand soap, the swiffers.

Loving myself looks like allowing others to help, accepting the hand extended toward me, seeking it out when needed.

Loving myself looks like a new haircut on a whim, changing the color just because I feel like it.

Loving myself looks like listening to my gut.

Loving myself looks a whole lot like my favorite places and the faces of my favorite people directly in front of me.

Loving myself looks like a phone on silent, a laptop shut.

Loving myself looks like opening a book and reading the words, turning actual pages, getting drawn in, while the television remains off.

Loving myself looks like marathons of pretty little liars because I can and I want to.

Loving myself looks like a brisk walk in fresh air to reboot my mind.

Loving myself looks like a pedicure and my heels far away, in my closet, and slippers as a replacement.

Loving myself looks like a morning hike in the warm sunshine, going as slowly as I'd like.

Loving myself looks like paying down credit card debt but trusting when it's necessary to spend on things.

Loving myself looks a whole lot like the word "no". Firmly.

Loving myself looks like admitting when I'm wrong and holding my ground when I'm certain.

Loving myself looks like the ability to hear your side, your story, your words, your fears, and not take them home with me.

Loving myself looks like a paintbrush in my hand, paint smeared on my skin, a canvas coming to life.

Loving myself looks like staying when I want to run.

Loving myself looks like honesty.

Come to think of it, what always drives me nuts is when incredible people are bemoaning how they don't have anyone to spend Valentine's Day with. They DO. It's themselves. They have the best date in the world and they are missing out. We can only love others as much as we love ourselves. Love can only spill out of us after the well is filled up within. And ignoring the beautiful, wonderful, amazing date you have waiting for you will not make any others to get here any sooner.

So tell me, what does love look like to you?

Here's To; or, a Toast and Some Truths

It's an interesting thing to be so filled up with love, with my own love, with god's love, that I'm actually unable to stay in a negative space. Like, not only do I not want to but I also honestly cannot stay angry, hurt or upset at myself, at the situation, or at him. It's weird, and by weird I mean fucking awesome.

This is not because I'm special or superhuman, but instead because I've committed to being the kind of person I want to be and am not stopping for hell or high water or (attempted) heartbreak.
So a little toast to the reasons I have been dancing in my room, laughing with my whole heart, and kicking ass and taking names during a time when I thought I'd be inconsolable and broken.

Ahem.

Here's to the Paradox Process,
Here's to Ziva Meditation,
Here's to the Fiddler Women who quietly build a fortress of love for me from coast to coast,
Here's to all the exes that came out of the woodwork to send loving and funny messages,
Here's to the one flying across the country to come kick it with me for a week,
Here's to so much free theatre in the best city for theatre in the world,
Here's to my main men Pharrell and Flo Rida for making their music for me to sing and dance to,
Here's to one best friend Facetiming in from India, and another feeding me Indian food.
Here's to the gentle (loud) reminder from the universe that I can't avoid going after what I want just because my heart is so full, and to the fact that it will remind me until I get it.
Here's to loving yourself so much, keeping so much grace in your heart, that you're unable to be deterred or rerouted or broken.
Here's to understanding we have the power to be who we want to be, and live the life we want to live right the fuck now, regardless of how we've been living until this moment.
Here's to already being whole and knowing no one else is ever needed to complete me, because I'm already complete. Other people are welcome to compliment my wholeness with theirs but both of my "other halves" are me. The roles have been cast and I booked them both, no understudies needed.
Here's to knowing that I am only in charge of my growth, my ability to love, and my choices, and that I am sure as hell not in charge of yours. Just as you are not able to create or remove my happiness.

And here's to the pure hope in my heart that someday very soon you learn how to love yourself this way. That you learn how to like yourself this way. That you learn how to be massively, overwhelmingly in love with your own self. That you learn it's okay to be happy and loved all of the time, and only fill yourself up with things that make you proud of yourself. That you fight to be the man you want to be just like you've watched me fight to be the woman I want to be.
And after that, maybe you'll be okay with loving me, but either way, I'm good.

If the one thing in the world I thought could destroy me only had me upset for slightly over 24 hours, then the world had seriously better watch the fuck out.

Loving someone so much is actually very cool. It's more important to me that he grows and heals in the way he wants so badly than it is for us to be together. It's selfless in a way that I honestly didn't know I was able to love (mainly because I am not a very selfless person, openly admitted), and it just pushes me to grow more, work harder, focus more on my own life. My love for him, and his love for me, continue to make me a better person even within a painful situation. And that is something I am damn proud to be a witness to. It's something that feels rare and special, and worth honoring and respecting by not tearing the other person down but instead, praying that they build themselves up.

Love is not something we give or get; it is something that we nurture and grow, a connection that can only be cultivated between two people when it exists within each one of them – we can only love others as much as we love ourselves. Shame, blame, disrespect, betrayal, and the withholding of affection damage the roots from which love grows. Love can only survive these injuries if they are acknowledged, healed and rare.” - Brene Brown

on SEEING WITH THE HEART

"Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; 

what is essential is invisible to the eye." The Little Prince

Switching my computer off, and leaving it in another state for two days, helped me remember what's important.

Running with them in the park, joyous smiles spread across their little faces, helped me remember what's important.

Playing scrabble, my favorite Halloween movie on in the background, my phone silenced, helped me remember what's important.

Sitting across from my favorite human, marveling as he took the same words from earlier, and shook them around like real-life boggle, spilling them back out in front of me until it all made sense, helped me remember what's important.

Weaving through the aisles of the grocery store together, continuing our life long conversation in a way that only best friends can know, helped me remember what's important.

Seeing updates on Facebook as a friend was losing her dog, my heart breaking for them, helped me remember what's important.

Watching as she went to help even though she was already tired and would have preferred to relax, helped me remember what's important.

Taking a cab across town, to a part of Manhattan I rarely encounter, just to give him a hug goodbye, reflecting on the great lessons he taught me the whole way there, helped me remember what's important.

Resting, instead of working just-a-little-more, helped me remember what's important.

Hearing the crunch of leaves under my feet, navigating our way through the pumpkin patch, helped me remember what's important.

Watching as he stretched out his body, relaxing, trusting, knowing he is safe here, helped me remember what's important.

Sharing my truths honestly, instead of covering or worrying, and having them received with love, helped me remember what's important.

You never know when you're going to get a boatload of lessons delivered to you. Might as well stay open just in case.

on Counting Them Again Even More

Lincoln Center,

Henry Elliot's little paw reaching out to ask someone (not me or my mom) to play,

lemonade,

Layla June in a ruffled dress,

sending the scary email,

having a couch to sit on,

having a chair to sit on,

oatmeal chocolate chip cookies,

watching an Opera at The Met,

re-usable tote bags,

meditation,

big ideas,

little steps,

callbacks,

making vegan mac-n-cheese,

listening,

the return of the red head,

so you think you can dance,

stretching,

saying yes,

not knowing, 

saturday night high fives at bed bath & beyond,

craigslist,

the woman who carried the chair down five flights,

possibility,

dry shampoo,

lauren graham,

pulling on a cozy sweater,

painting,

stacks of notebooks,

serving with your talents,

asking questions,

feeding them by hand,

my green jacket,

singing,

acting,

writing,

Love.

i am grateful for you.

previously: 4 / 3 / 2 / 1

on FILLING UP

Sometimes I realize I'm running on empty. Oh, I'm sleeping plenty, and I remember to eat more than I used to, and my life is going great, but my soul is hungry. I've been putting others and other things before me, before my dreams, before my being. And try as I might, I just can't care and love and give the way I like to unless my heart and soul and being are full, overflowing, drenched in inspiration. I don't think or know if it's this way for everyone, but I am an artist, for better or worse, and it is this way for me.

I'll notice it in little signs. The way I stretch my feet while on the subway, subconsciously sliding one foot out of my sandal, letting it gently press through a flexed position and slide into pointed. And repeat. My hands start to itch to paint. My thoughts play through my mind like a really great book, or narration of a film. And a dull, low ache, begins to wrap itself around my core. Sing. Dance. Move. Run. Play. Color. Try. Make. Trust. Write. Stretch. This little soundtrack composed by my inner most needs.

So I start to fill up. I watch things like this, and I think about the last time my bare feet touched the floor of a studio. And I marvel in the gifts that others have, and the wonders of what our bodies can do, and the ability to tell a story without speaking:

And I re-watch things like this, and I remember what it feels like to be so fully committed, and on fire with passion, and fearless and terrified all at the same time:

And I re-watch a season of this, to remember why I'm an actor, because ohmygod have you seen the genius that are these actors? The way their ability to do nothing is just everything? The way I become fixated that I must be on this show, I must be on this show. Or at least on the set, just watching, absorbing:

And I turn to words and poems and stories that crawl into the space of my soul that needs it the most:

And I think about how in the past, those words above would have surely sent me into a memory about broken hearts from boys, but seeing those words now, as I am in this very moment, I am aware of how very much it has nothing to do with boys. Quite frankly my heart is very happy in that area, thankyouverymuch. And this delights me. So instead of seeing that, this quote took the shape of me doing, trying, and going toward anything except what I want. For all the human reasons that we humans do that sort of thing. And in a way, that's almost worse than the kind of pain from a broken heart from other people. Breaking your own heart is worse. Except I think something is cracking, and it's either my sanity or my heart. And I think maybe instead of breaking, it's opening. Letting the light back in, or the fire back out, or both at once. And I wonder if I'll let it open all the way, or if I'll get to try again another time. Because eventually it will open to my truth.

And I fill up.

on THREE YEARS WITH HENRY ELLIOT

On July 27, 2010, Henry Elliot Raleigh Alexander Anderson made his way into my life and picked me to be his mommy. This past Saturday, we celebrated three years together with a little outing to PetSmart. His sissy came, too, and he graciously allowed her to share in his day (as he was raised very well by his momma and is a polite and loving little bear). Check his face below, I just die.

Henry and Layla each picked out a toy. Hedgehogs for everyone! A tug-o-war style guy for Hens-El and a little pink one for La. Both mega-squeakers and good to toss.

Above: Henry: "Mom, this is the best day ever!" Layla: "I judge you."

Sleepiest bear in the world.

I don't know if you guys have caught on yet, but I love this tiny man with my entire heart. I still remember sitting with him on my dining room floor on that first day, how scared and small he was, and his foster mom asked if I was interested in keeping him or not. I immediately felt horrified that she even asked - this was my dog, my Henry. I just knew it. There's a bumper sticked commonly spotted on many a suburban vehicle, that reads: Who Rescued Who? (do note: I totally want one of these) and it couldn't be more true about my Hen. He saved me, he taught me what unconditional love looks like, what it feels like, and what matters.

Hen has taught me, you know, an exceptional amount of things. But this year, with the addition of Layla June, he's taken it up to a whole new level. Here's a few of the lessons baby bear has given me recently:

1. The people who love us are always there waiting for us. We can't be separated (truly separated) from those that share our hearts. Therefore distance ain't nothin but a different time zone.
2. We don't know what's coming next, but we can choose how we handle it. When I came home with La, Hen basically tried to eat her. He pouted and was hurt, but then.. he changed his mind. Decided to be friends. This past week, they attempted playing together (I cried). If my baby dog can choose the higher road, then I can, too.
3. Show your affection. Hen has taken to resting his head on my hand as he falls asleep. This gentle action makes my heart fill up and burst with love.
4. Treats are important. Have them often.
5. Fresh air is nearly always the answer. Leaping and playing in grass will also aid you in any decision making.
6. You have to play. You just have to. Daily. Often. Silliness and play time are clutch.
7. Get vocal about the people you love. This boy basically screams at the top of his lungs every time I come through the door. I could be gone 5 minutes or 5 days, and it's a freaking party up in here.
8. Sharing is cool, but sometimes you need to whine or gripe about someone trying to take your toys. Let it out, and then try to practice sharing again.
9. Naps. Naps, my friend. Very important. Fluff your blankets and pillows around a bit, too.
10. Words aren't as needed as we think. Henry tells me exactly what's up with his eyes, body, and actions.
11. Rejoice. Dance. Leap. Wave your front paws (arms) around wildly. Smile as wide and as big as you can. Show joy with your entire body. Wiggle. Shake your tail. Kiss the people you love. Roll around on your back. Stretch. Wear your love all over your body.

This is the story of how we came to be & this is what I wrote on our one-year of togetherness.
(Important to note that those years were really rough, and I was not in a great place. You'll catch on as you read some of the snark and hurt laced between those words.)

He is still, by far, the number one best decision I've ever made. He is my best friend, and I'm so proud to see him interacting with other doggies and people, and to see how much he's grown. The best lesson of all that he taught me, is that we all truly just need love and to know we are wanted, and trust that we belong. Those things heal us and shape us into our bravest, best selves.
Oh little bear, I love you so.

on MR. & MRS. MONACO TURN TWO

This past week marked the second year of marriage for my sister and brother-in-law. That's a long time, if you ask me. Because when you're married to someone, you're married to them every single day, all day, nonstop. Think about it (non-married people.. you married people can laugh either in understanding or mockery). Sometimes I just say the "M" word and get really uncomfortable. Recently, my favorite male person said it once or twice himself (I did not even know he knew the word), and understandably we didn't speak for a few days after that. I'm pretty sure I replied with  "you've thought about what?". So you can imagine my impressed-ness over anyone being married at all, let alone multiple years.

The second year of marriage calls for a cotton gift. I told my sister that I would give them a blogtton gift instead. It's true, I am incredibly generous. No, I will get them a gift, but first I must scour etsy and the like. In the meantime: blogtton! Both of them are very weird, which seems right when getting married. Find someone as weird as you, who puts up with you even when you are whiny (Amy) or making fun of the other person's little sister (Matt), who will go to Target with you, and other places. But mostly, just someone weird who likes you a whole lot. They have that down.

Love you both very much. And sometimes your cats. Happy Anniversary!
Love, the sister, Henry Elliot, and Layla June. (they helped write this. woof.)

on FOURTHING

Yesterday was one of my favorite Fourth of July celebrations in awhile.

We went to the traditional parade in my town - which gets weirder and weirder each year. Then I made that glorious fruit situation you see up there and I felt like I was in my own little pinterest-come-to-life moment. I spent some time with my furry babies before heading out to a party with friends, and got to catch up with lots of people I like a whole lot. A little break in the day made time for a walk with the pups (the more tired they are, the less they care about fireworks..) and some face to face time with my favorite person, who is out of town as per usual. I'll tell you what though, praise the people that invented skype and facetime and the internet.

Then it was back to the party and the friends and the food and, of course, we rounded out the night with fireworks. Hope you had a spectacular little day of your own :)

on WHAT LOVE SOUNDS LIKE

For two weeks, there were pianos scattered throughout this city. Eighty-Eight, to be exact, the same number of keys on each piano. On the last day, they were all brought to Lincoln Center for a full day of music, art, dance, and, of course, piano playing.

At first, fascinated by the pianos, I chose a new favorite one every thirty seconds. But then, it became about the people. Oh do I love to people watch, oh my oh my oh my, I love it so. And those fountains - they are mine, my favorite place, and to sit and watch these fascinating people, oh I was in my glory. The woman in the purple outfit, sitting at the purple piano, was glorious. We chatted awhile, I took photos for her, she told me she was from Cuba, how beautiful I was, her whole being was animated. She eventually started to play, and then later, sing. Full voice, singing old songs, the kind of songs that you can tell she's known a very long time. I liked her best.

I grew up with a grand piano across the hall from my bedroom; our very own music room. My mom bought it before her first place, or her first car (and she wonders where I got the weird factor from..). I didn't realize that most people don't grow up with a piano.. until just about right now as I'm writing this sentence. Anyway, one of my favorite sounds in the world is the sound of a piano. So one of my favorite activities (people watching) mixed with one of my favorite sounds (pianos) at one of my favorite places in the entire world (Lincoln Center).. well, you can imagine I was elated. How could it get any better?

Let's throw in my favorite person, who was asked to perform at the event. He is the coolest in the world. (Just so we're clear, that last photo of a dude singing is NOT, I repeat not, favorite. He has never been pictured here, and we'll have to see if he earns a spot someday.) You know that part in "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" where the grinch's heart grows three times as big? My heart did that watching him that afternoon, and then even more so while seeing him interact with perfect strangers who came to give thanks and thoughts. Sometimes I don't like feeling things, vulnerability and I are off and on, and sometimes I still protect.. but darn it if he doesn't drag it out of me; first kicking and screaming, and now in a more easy and unable to be stopped type of way. Like looking at your own heart, outside of your body, but only after you forgot you had one.

And now, let us ignore the mush and go back to the pianos! 'twas wonderful. And you guys, also at LC that weekend? A CRAFT FAIR. A craft fair. I KNOW. I know what you're thinking and it's true: I DID visit heaven, and it was better than we all thought. The whole event was put together by Sing For Hope and you can visit their website riiiiight here. Share that art, you handsome fools.