And they’re at the Icefields…



You should’ve asked

Source: You should’ve asked


This is ground breaking for me, one of the most brilliant and accurate things that I have ever read!!

I hope you enjoy it too!

A mere moment of gratification and celebration…

It meant so so much to me at the time and I had almost forgotten all about until I was reading the (currently sitting at 825) comments of yesterday’s poignant post on acupofjo  and I was reminded of this spectacular moment, courtesty of Adele, at the grammy’s last February…this

“…and I struggled.  I still do struggle being a mom.  It’s really hard…”

No amount of fame or money can help you here.  Parenting.  It’s bloody hard.

Thank you for your honesty, generosity and brilliance, @Adele.

X-Plan: Giving your kids a way out (#xplan)

Brilliant! Thank you!!

Bert Fulks

Friends, as most of you know, I get to spend an hour each week with a group of young people going through addiction recovery.  Yes.  Young people.  I’m talking teenagers who are locked away for at least six months as they learn to overcome their addictions.  I’m always humbled and honored to get this time with these beautiful young souls that have been so incredibly assaulted by a world they have yet to understand.  This also comes with the bittersweet knowledge that these kids still have a fighting chance while several of my friends have already had to bury their own children.

Recently I asked these kids a simple question:  “How many of you have found yourself in situations where things started happening that you weren’t comfortable with, but you stuck around, mainly because you felt like you didn’t have a way out?”

They all raised their hands.

Every single…

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A worthy petition


I just signed the petition, “Tell Disney to stand against President Trump’s anti-family policies.” I think this is important. Will you sign it too?

Here’s the link:




Just a regular December night at House of Crazy…

Me: (watching and being severely traumatized by The OA on #Netflix hears the man of the house open the dishwasher door-ALERT! ALERT! Nothing good can come of that noise!)
Him: (snobby chuckle while looking inside the dishwasher)
Me: (now traumatized and fuming) Yes…?
Him: (continuing to snobbishly chuckle…)
Me: Oh, so you think there’s a problem? (please note The OA is still playing and has not been paused #multitaskingfemale)
Him: (dead calm)
Me: (two can play this game)…….
Him: (silence)
Me: (absolutely bursting) It’s fine! It’s fine the way it is. Do not touch anything inside that dishwasher!
Him: (snooty laughter starts up again while he rearranges my dishes in the bottom of my dishwasher)
Me: (now must focus so have paused the apple tv) Happy? They don’t come clean when you rearrange my work!  It’s like the dishwasher rebels after you give it the once over.  Do not touch…please…(regaining some sense of decorum and manners)…
Him: (deftly changing the subject) So, are you caught up to me in The OA yet, Miss-fall-asleep-every time-we-turn-on-Netflix?
Me: (launches couch pillow at him)

THe ANger

I have read that in some cultures it is acceptable to scream it out or sweat it out when you’re pissed.  Many believe that this is the key to escaping your depression, your anxieties, your neuroses, your failings and your sadness and finding your way back to you.  Call yourself back to yourself in whatever ways suit. Literally, call your name out loud.

I’m thinking that not only is it acceptable, it may be one of the best or the only ways.  There’s a whole lotta hype about mental health these days and I’m so glad for that.  So glad that celebs are speaking out and the ‘regular josie/joe’ is, too.  We need to hear from everyone on this topic.  We need you to share your ideas, methods (mad or otherwise), successes, failures, etc. so that we can learn from each other.

For most of my life, I have sweated it out. In the form of sports-hockey mostly. When I abandoned hockey (strangely, due to anger), I had no outlet. No sweat or anger was leaving my body in any kind of healthy way.  Everything stayed inside and ate away at all of me.  My friend told me that she saw me, when not playing hockey, as a purebred racehorse, being pulled back by my reigns, clenching my jaw. She literally saw that image when she looked at me.

I am certainly not anger free but I am feeling lighter these days. Thankful for the last month of hell like no other, super moons and strange dreams.  And many conversations with my beloved.

When the anger starts to leave, that space will be invaded with love.


For more info-Sweating it out, Drumming, Personal Rituals.

A Hug At A Funeral

A hug given at or received from a funeral is a hug that I haven’t really experienced until yesterday.  It was my second funeral of the week and the main one of the last 4 funerals in the last 6 weeks.  Yes. Exactly.

The hugs which I was given, the kisses (Jacqueline), the looks are some of those that I will never forget.  The connection, the power, the love was palpable, more than usual.  I walked in, saw my kin, went straight to them, hugged the crap out of them, as they did to me and that was it.

Later, I told my hubby that those hugs were like something I imagined Stanley Cup winners giving to each other after winning the cup.  I know ice hockey but feel free to insert whichever trophy that you most identify with, including and with no limitations, Wimbledon, The Masters at Augusta, etc…even though those aren’t team sports.  It doesn’t matter.

I also said it was like what I think a marine hug-or any warrior hug would be like.  Here we go into battle hug. Strength.  It’s been a party up until now hug.  Now shit gets real hug.  First time I’ve seen you since hug.  Thanks for traveling from so far away hug. Force and love for team, for the clan, the tribe, your people.  United in your grief.  We will never be the same hug. Hanging on for dear life hug.

With unexpected workplace death, there are some strange emotions, I have found in these last weeks.  I almost threw up when I saw the reflective signage while coming off the highway the other night.  And I don’t think that I can ski Sunshine on my own just yet or golf (but I do have a while for that golf one).  There are too many memories there.  And though they are sacred and wonderful and joyous, I will need to ski with my man.  I will need to draw on his strength as I cry, as I tremble. As I remember the good, the fun and there was so, so much of that. It was all that with him and only that.

I cried on the way to that funeral.  I cried at the funeral.  I appreciated that the minister said we are free to cry and laugh here today because that is precisely how we celebrate his life.  I know this but I loved that he said it to us all and out loud, putting it out there in advance, making us feel welcome.  I loved how well he described someone that he had never met but knew so many wonderful stories about.  I loved how when he read to us some of the emails received from friends around the world, he said that he wished he’d known Bammer and he meant it.  He meant it with his heart and he said it with emotion and conviction.

I loved it, of course, when some of his close friends shared stories, too, laughed, brought joy to the rest of us and cried with us.  I loved the music played and the video made by his brother. In pretty much every single picture of him, he was wide eyed, smiling. Or falling off of something, laughing. Beer/drink in hand.

I drove up to the other gondola in town a few days after it happened to sit and stare out at the beauty from a giant empty parking lot.  And to think and to be.  My eyes are different now. They see more clearly. Everything is different and everything will change again and again.  But I will never forget the feeling, the force of love of those funeral hugs or what that force gave to me, gives me. From my people, our people.


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