Eda's World

I love travel, but I hate the plane flight. I have a plus size butt in a tiny world. So, it is always a ten hour nightmare. One time I was shoulder to knee between Scott and some random stranger (sidebar: he was lovely. I find a lot of random strangers are lovely if you smile and ask questions). When we got to Prague and I took off my new blue jeans I was blue from the belly button down from sweating against both of them. Just ewwww. So, one long ass plane ride later, we get to Heathrow. We get out luggage and find Eurowings to get two of our bags checked. We have two carry-ons, one is filled with toiletries and Scott's meds. UK airports has a ridiculous rule of one sandwich Baggie of travel liquids per person. We had four gallon size bags. Security was a shit fest. By the time we got to the line and realized we had way too many bags it was 2pm, our flight leaves at 2:40pm. More than once I've had to run down endless hallways looking for gate 74z that is hidden is this bloody...

I was lucky enough to score a Neil Gaiman MasterClass in writing. I'm in Chapter Five and he relates being a writer to WEC. My heart melts. This is how I feel in my life constantly. He said being a writer is like WEC running alongside a cliff then he shoots out ever the edge and keeps running. He only falls when he looks down. our jobs as writers is not to look down. I love this. This is my image that keeps me going. How am I going to accomplish these things? No fucking clue. Not one. I just take the next small step, call the next person, attend the next class, and generally show up for life. I've received some solid wins in the last few weeks. I'm moving my business to a nice spa near my house three days a week. I'm treating my writing like a craft and studying it. My editor just finished my first book, so now I have a professionally edited book to submit to Kindle then to the Long Beach Libraries. I'm getting two short stories published in an Anthology of Cu...

I'm an extremist. I wouldn't be the lifelong yo-yo dieter that I am if I wasn't. Everything is to the hilt. If I'm going to do it I am going to race toward it until it flames shoot out of my ass. I'm in my 40s now and this shit is not sustainable. I've taken many falls, but the one in '98 permanently jacked up my left leg and low back. I hadn't connected all the dots until recently, but all of my re-occurring chronic pain has stemmed from those injuries. My sacral spine is compressed and my left sciatic nerve is impinged causing leg weakness and phantom pains deep through my thigh, knee and arch. I've spent my life on my feet doing heavy physical work moving bodies. It's been a battle. But I'm not stupid. I am willing to change and learn. This has always been my saving grace. Well, now I'm locked in the epic battle of facing an aspect of myself that was once a survival habit that morphed into deep flaw. My extremism. I don't tal...

I'm excited to be packing. It's all bound up with anxiety, like a murky soup. The government shut down, my cold, booking the flight, changing the flight are all low-level anxieties that were snowballing into a feeling of dread. But, I'm looking forward to this. This is going to be an adventure. A good one. Sultry nights in Key West, chilling on the porch talking life with my Aunties, my childhood compadre and his husband (who I adore), and whoever else decides to stop by to chat. I'm driving down from Ft. Lauderdale tomorrow at 5:30 am. I can't wait to watch the sunrise, drive the causeway, pause where ever I fancy, and take my time. I realized when I drove back from Lake Havasu that I hadn't done a solo road trip in a good decade. I used to do them all the time. Don't get me wrong, I love traveling with Scott, but traveling as a couple is a team sport. You gotta play together well to travel well, check in with each other's comfort, and be ready ...

My husband and I are fools for the holidays. We are all about the lights, the cheer, the music, the trees and the gifts. But we love, love, love Christmas lights. The day after Thanksgiving we start roaming the streets, looking for the pretty lights. We think nothing of hopping in the car after dinner and spending a good hour and a half circling local neighborhoods looking at lights. We've gone to Sleepy Hollow in Torrance. The Christmas Village in Cambria. Hearst Castle Christmas Tour. The Enchanted Forest light show at Descanso Gardens. A Christmas Village in Cologne, Germany. We have our Christmas lights street cred. We have serious discussions over the merits of a home's display. Classic vs modern? C-7s vs. LED. Primary colors vs black light colors? Wire frames vs blow ups? Good use of lights? Foliage utilized adequately? Last night, we went next level. I found some WINNER ribbons at Allin Party Supply down the street. For $5 and some change, my husband and I had ...

This isn't a funny story. It's a cringer. I had just left my therapist on an up note and was cruising down Los Coyotes Diagonal to go shopping at Pavilion's. Movement in the bike line caught my eye. I'm giving you until the first line of the next paragraph to step off this ride. You still here? Fine. What I saw was a possum. Its head was on the ground. Its body was cringing and whipping around. It looked like it was trying to get up. I knew it had just got hit. I was past it before I could think. I was on the far side on a five lane road. I couldn't whip around to go back easily. I drove on and tried to reason with myself: It's already dead. I'm not taking it to vet. There is nothing I can do. I pulled into the parking lot. Killed the engine. I sat staring at my hands. I couldn't shake it. The primordial empathy of seeing something writhe in pain. The idea of laying there listening to the last fading whine of its nervous system shutti...