twenty.

sometimes life gives you shit. foul, goopy, putrid shit, and lots of it.

today shit happened in the most literal sense. sophie, clicquot, and i were outside playing ball just like every other day, when clicquot, our "fat puppy girl" who is as dumb as that ridiculous name of hers, decided to step up her game and remind me just who's boss. one second she's merrily chasing a tennis ball, the next moment she's bee-lining for a soggy, rained on, lump of brown in the neighbor's lawn. i didn't even have to guess what was about to happen, and as my world became slow motion, clicquot barreled her body, with the intensity and precision of a football tackle, face-first into that heaping pile of feces.
i screamed her name in my fiercest tone and ran down the driveway toward her as fast as my bare feet could take me, but it was far too late. she was upside-down and sideways in it, rolling and rolling. as i reached her, she abruptly hopped to her feet and looked at me wagging her tail with a dopey look on her shit-caked face that said "look! look! did i do good!? huh!? did i?!".
and i laughed. and laughed and laughed. the situation was terrible, truly. not laughable at all. the fetid stuff was embedded in her fur from head to tail and caked around her ears and face. of course the timing was impeccable, i'd just spent the past three hours thoroughly cleaning the house, doing laundry, and finally showering myself, only to now be dealing with this mess. yet i could not stop smiling and laughing.
you see, life gives you shit all the time, and it always happens at inconvenient instances and it always seems to compound on itself, making life as messy as clicquot's face. but the beautiful thing (and sometimes the hardest thing to see when you're knee deep in it) is you always have a choice; you can let it consume you or you can choose to make the best of any situation.
sure, it's easy to get angry. to yell. to give up. to play apathetic or wallow in self-pity. it's much easier to say "this is hard, i quit" than it is to lean into unpleasantness or to ignore something entirely than it is to acknowledge discomfort. yep, it may be easier, but does it make you happy? does it make you grow? has taking the easiest road ever made the world a better place?
i won't pretend i haven't had my fair share of reacting poorly when shit hit the fan, and trust me i've seen some tough shit and have spent plenty of time up shit creek (how sick of the shit references are we?), but when it boils down to it, i want to live my life choosing not to get lost in the mess and not adding to it. so today, i just laughed.
shit happens, it's always gonna happen, and when it does, as someone dearer to me and wiser than he knows reminded me yesterday, "we don't quit. we improvise, adapt, overcome". ok ok, i realize this may be just an adaptation on a military credo, but it is so relevant, i shit you not.

nineteen.

even if you are lost, even if i am lost, even when all seems lost, we are alive. and that is beautiful.

eighteen.

i've got an inordinately catchy song caught deep in my brain.
there is something about this song that has had my toes dancing for days now. upon further investigation, i've realized i've got a serious soft spot for brett dennen. this is possibly due to one of the following facts: he, like me, is a northern california native, playing shows barefoot seems to be a recurring theme with him, and he has an elephant on his guitar. he's got no shame when it comes to using that voice-from-another-generation of his to warble out the high notes, and, oh, he's a ginger.
i must have listened to this song a hundred times in the past few days, and every time it's just pure rollick-y sunshine gladness.

sydney, whenever you feel unhappy
all you have to do is call me
i can make you laugh

you know that i was never that cool
but i won't be taken for a fool
if they wanna talk trash
they can talk, talk, talk
but they better come correct
and if you ever need me, call me
i'll come runnin' straight to you
straight from the airport
(i'll come runnin')
cut through the customs line
(i'll come runnin')