the day after (aka: the banana clip is o-u-t)

Spent a kick ass Thanksgiving with Bob & Cindy & Company. A local AA couple that opened their home to other Programers, Bob and Cindy and their band of dinner goers reminded me of my long lost AA sponsor in California (Kerri O.) and her groovy, laid back husband (Mike O.) and their motley crue of AA stragglers. No family to spend Thanksgiving with? Head on over to Mike and Kerri's. Don't want to get hammered in the bars on Halloween? Go to Mike and Kerri's. More than likely they'll have a fridge full of soda and fireworks, too. I was able to spend time with people I have grown to love and left Bob and Cindy's feeling as though all was perfect in my world.

Spent the morning on the phone with my beloved Gabriella Moonlight discussing program related issues (read: who's bat shit crazy and who isn't.) Just kidding...

Have I ever mentioned how much I love my buddy Gabi? No? Well, I love her a whole bunch. And her husband, too. They are good people. With a magnificent sense of fashion, as well; which you should all know by now is an instant qualifier for the Kristin H. Club of the Fashion Conscious (KHCFC). Does that make me shallow? No, it does not. Who else is going to let you know that the banana clip is out and that not everyone can wear a tapered leg pant? Gabi and I can. And will.

Hey. Have I ever mentioned that I have a weakness for knives and those who use them professionally? No? Too much information?

On the agenda for tonight? 7:00 PM meeting with Gabi and T.

for west coast A.

I made it

Remember this post?

The letter came in the mail on Saturday.

I was accepted into the next phase of the nursing program.

The letter kept mentioning things about my "test scores," but we all know that is code for "Kristin, you looked really hot that night and we are letting you into the program based on your fashion sense."

Just sayin'.

blogger game

Sarah gave me these words...

Orange The California county of my birth. Where I resided for the majority of my life. Not entirely as it is portrayed on television, but still very conservative and full of itself. Orange County will never get past the fact that its on the other side of the freeway from south central Los Angeles. If the state of California was a family, then Orange County would be the uptight paternal aunt who believes that the rest of the family is godless and wayward and needs to get a clue.

Journey What I refer to as my life. At first I thought, "Well, duh, Kristin. Steve Perry. Journey. Oh Sherrie. Faithfully." But I know that you all probably get burnt on my music references. Life is a journey. I have yet to determine what it is that I am traveling toward, but I imagine I will figure that one out when I get there. In the meantime my objective is to be nice to people and laugh a lot on the way there.

Dry Seriously, Sarah? Dry? WTF? (Eye roll) Fine. (Sigh) When I think of dry, I think of the ten years I spent in the Mojave desert. I left southern California for Kern County (north of LA) in my 20's and lived there for approximately ten years. Walking out your front door on a summer's day was like getting bitch slapped by a gust of hot air straight out of your oven. Remember the movie Erin Brockovich? When she would be driving out to the desert to depose her legal clients? Yeah, that's kind of where I lived.

Organic I am a food snob and won't apologize for it. I would rather not eat than to eat something that is over processed, chemical ridden, or of an unknown origin. As a social worker in Kern County, I saw first hand the medical fallout of the migrant farm workers. The pesticides that these individuals were being exposed to were causing health conditions that were deadly. I spent countless days at UCLA Medical Center overseeing the case management of clients who were undergoing treatment for conditions that the doctors recognized as being caused by agricultural chemicals.

Beach I grew up on the beach. Our house was approximately five miles from the Huntington Pier. I grew up in a family of surfers. I recognize now how lucky I was to have access to some beautiful coastline and I miss the smell of the wood burning fire pits, salt air, and bait. I know, call me crazy. But there is something about fishing and all that surrounds that sport that is alluring to me. No matter where I live, I will always be a sandal wearing, "dude" saying, California girl from Huntington Beach.

Want to play? Request 5 words in the comment section and I will get them to you soon.

not holy

There once was a time when I thought being sober would mean that I would don my cap of Puritanical Goodness and belly up to the bar of all things holy. Sunday church services. Early morning gym workouts. Meditative strolls through my backyard garden as I prayed in solitude. Chanting! Prayer! Reflection! Service!

Dude, don't kid.

It's Sunday morning and the best I could pull off was a doughnut run with Billy Squire blaring and a quick pass by the video store to drop off vampire videos. I think the Methodists on Quarrier Street could smell a sinner even before I made it halfway home. At least I'm honest. That's virtuous, right?

Stroke me. Heh.

I'm SO not holy.

sober musician post