The Heather Chronicles

I went to see my friend play on Tuesday night at the Tractor. I've seen him play drums hundreds of times, but this night something really struck me as Amy and I sat there watching...his passion. My friend Jason is an amazing drummer and I knew this, but what I think I'd never really noticed was not only that he is an amazing drummer, but that you see his soul coming out as he plays. His amazing heart that has been a wonderful friend for almost twenty years, poured out as he played. It's quite a beautiful thing. Then I turned to Amy and saw this beautiful person with a beautiful heart who is passionate about her family, her friends, growing as a person, fashion and her home. She wants to make the world beautiful.

In this moment I saw in my mind what was similar to your life flashing before you. I saw the years with my oh so amazing friends and as each person's face flashed in my mind, I realized that what they all had in common was passion. I grabbed a napkin from the bar and started writing down the various passions my beloved friends have.

A passion for...
Music
Fashion
Change in the world
Personal growth
Nature
Their home
Family
Their children
Animals
Peace
Healing others' souls
Acceptance
Beautifying the world
Speed
Travel
Adventure
Fun
Laughter

Me? I got a passion for writing, making myself and others laugh, and new adventures. Some might even say I have a passion for poo, though I would have to correct them and say, "That's TALKING about poo. I don't like the tangible form, thank you very much."

I used to think I connected with people over a niche for the creative, as most of my friends have something they excel in creatively. Yet that is not it. It's their passion. Okay, passion and humor. In all honesty, I connect more over humor than with anything. So maybe that's the connecting tie...a passion for laughter and the oddities of life? But then that opens the door and I get to see what else drives their heart and it makes me love them even more. Some passions may seem simple to the normal eye, but when you look to the left and you look to the right, you get the bigger picture. It shows the person's heart has a drive, a mission, a purpose, a love for something. And you can never go wrong with love of even the simplest kind.

Hey y'all! I'm back!

Well, I've been back a month and a half in Washington. The trip home started mellow, got bad with being trapped in snow, then got weird due to a tequila incident. I was so happy to get home, then freaked out and wasn't adjusting to life back in the city well. I wan't used to so many people, cars and buildings and was missing the quiet of North Carolina, but not the garbage. There were welcome home parties, my brother came for my first weekend, and I was flitting about enjoying the spirits and the good people. Seeing friends was so great, but I was socially burned out before the end of the week. What had happened? Me, who was so craving the energy of others, wanted to crawl into bed and hide. I'm officially retarded.

Luckily the angst and overwhelming sensation of loss of my hermitness is subsiding though. I have a job that I LOVE, friends that I already knew I loved, and am adjusting back into never being home and surviving off of little sleep. At some point I'm going to have to go into hibernation. Until then I thrive off of the strange adventures I'm already encountering. It didn't take long.

ADVENTURES OF A BAD BABYSITTER
My friend who is also my wonderful boss had to have emergency shoulder surgery a few weeks ago, so I stayed with her to help out and work from her house. It was great as we got to catch up a lot and reconnected from time lost. It was almost like a mini vacation and a 4-day slumber party all wrapped into one! So on what I think was the third night there, she's petting one of her dogs and finds this blood-filled lump with a dark spot. Now you have to remember she is on pain medication and I'm on I think my second or third glass of Chianti. After careful investigation we decide it's a tick.

Monica: How do we get rid of it?

Heather: I had one in my armpit in North Carolina. I know what to do. We gotta burn it so it'll pop his head out and then pull it out with tweezers.

She scours the house, high on meds, looking for matches. After finding them she gets her dog, Toby into place and smashed down his fur so I can get to the tick. I light the match, blow it out, then touch the "tick" with the hot, blown-out match. He whimpers and both Monica and I whimper too. Monica then starts pulling the "tick" out. Blood starts spurting out and while Toby is not happy, we think we're helping him...until we realize we've basically just burned her dog and pulled off a black scab with tweezers.

I think it is evident why neither Monica or I have children.

WHEN OLD CHICKS ROCK OR PRETEND THEY CAN
Friday night I went to a show with the boy I've been hanging out with and some of his friends. We were having a great time laughing, chatting it up, and I introduced the boy's friend's wife to bourbon and diet coke. The final band came on and we migrated to the stage only to find that the husband/wife team weren't playing on the stage, but on the floor. They were awesome and fun and were rocking out, and then it happened. The boy and I were right up front dancing (thank you to Jason and Kelsey for teaching me I don't have to conform to Seattle's "no dancing at shows" policy) and having a great time. All of a sudden the singer wanders into the crowd and pulls me up front with them. I turned to look back at the boy and his friends, me panicking at what lay in store for me. All of a sudden the singer puts a frickin' guitar over my shoulders and I stood there frozen. He then wandered off and looked back at me as if to say, "Strum, bitch!" So not knowing shit about the guitar...me who gets booed off in ten seconds on Guitar Hero....faked some finger positioning and strummed. Then he sang more and his wife played and rocked out next to me and I strummed again. I think the boy and his friends laughed at me. Everyone else was looking at me like this must be some pre-Mother's Day stint, as I was likely the oldest girl there. I can just hear the conversations that must have been had.

"Ahhhh. Look! He pulled his Mom onstage. How cute!"

"Dude, that's not his mother! She's obviously too young to have birthed him, but STILL! Shouldn't she be like feeding cats at home on a Friday night after she's done knitting?"

"And she sucks at the guitar. Do you see her finger positioning? She obviously masturbates WAY too much! She may know herself, but she doesn't know a guitar."

After about five strums the singer realized how badly he fucked up in choosing the old chick and came back and took the guitar off of me. I wandered back to my group and all of a sudden had a tambourine in my hand. Bourbon? Destiny? I'm not sure, but I shook it and finally realized I sucked at that too and passed it off to the boy who knew what he was doing. Now I find myself how he knows the tambourine so well? The kazoo. If only there'd been a kazoo, I'd rock that kazoo.