Channel the Yoda

Monday, April 26, 2010

Quick Hiatus

Hello Hello!

I am still here and still writing! My focus has been on finishing my Sundance script which is due on May 1st! But don't you worry or fret my friends, I will be back on board (blogging) in just a few days.

AND New Impromptu Trip! I leave for Grand Marais and Canada on May 3rd! Take off eh! Man, I need to back off the exclamation marks. Blame the coffee.

I'll be back (like the Terminator but with less accent.)

Nerissa

Monday, April 19, 2010

Don't Fence Me In

It is a sweltering day in Northern Minnesota.

I’m sprawled on a lawn chair, my head curled on the arm, resting away the day.

Cheryl, stretched out on the ground, utters one word, “Bar.”

My eyes ping open.

Cheryl saddles up her horses. I grab my wallet. And we hit the dusty, gravel roads.

Being my 2nd time on a horse and the 1st time ending with me being dragged down a rocky trail, I was a bit hesitant.

But I was on PEPPER. Sweet, desperately old Pepper.

And so we began our adventure…

Cheryl’s horse is KICKING AND BUCKING something fierce. I think, “Wow, I’m so lucky to have Pepper. Sweet Pepper…”

20 minutes later I’m bored. So I nudge Pepper. He is quick to trot but then right back to walk.

I’m annoyed. So I nudge harder. NOTHING!

I shake the reins. AND He shakes his mane of hair at me.

Finally I threaten—“If you don’t put a little Pep in your step Pepper you may find yourself quickly made into Pepperoni!”

I don’t even know what that threat means. But he picked up the pace, flicking me with his tail the whole way to the bar.

And that’s where we parked them. Literally, they have a spot to tie up your horses.

Cheryl and I filled the next hour with laughter and shots as the night fell and stars illuminated the black sky.

And as we left the bar and I hopped back on Pepperoni, I felt that illusive emotion—sheer joy.

There were no flashlights. Just the stars to lead us home. Now, I may have been a little sauced as I weaved Pepperoni from ditch to ditch but it was the open sky that truly caused the lack of directional control.

I was too busy looking up to look straight ahead.

And then it floated out of my mouth like a gust of air—

“Ohhhhh….give me land, lots of land over starry skies above… Don’t fence me in.”

And there I am, on a horse named Pepper, swerving from side to side, holding a beer, grinning from ear to ear, crooning Gene Autry to the sky.

“Just turn me loose. Let me straddle my own saddle underneath the Western sky. On my Cayuse, let me wander over yonder, until I see the mountains rise.”

What’s a Cayuse?

Anyway, driving home the next day I stopped for gas. I went to pay and realized I didn’t have my wallet. Shocked I looked at the attendant and I said, “I left my wallet on the back of a horse.”

I found some cash, paid my debt, climbed in my car and headed back to city life. A life I appreciated usually—but there, at that moment I was conflicted… maybe my heart was still with Pepper, on a path, to the sky.

Maybe, just maybe I wasn’t such the city girl I vehemently proclaimed to be. Oh boy.

And the most troubling question of all, how in the heck did I know all the words to that song?


**No animals were hurt in this story. Promise.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Jeerers, Meet Me in the Parking Lot

I have a list—A life list—Not a BUCKET LIST—Just a list.

And today it’s a list with a new black line on it BECAUSE I learned to SNOWBOARD!

And being one who loves to share—I’m taking my readers on a quick and painful tutorial!

Time to learn the basics!

1. How to fall—Tuck chin in neck, pull arms close, turn head sideways
2. Always look out for riders, skiers or random people walking
3. No flailing arms; you look stupid and it ruins your balance
4. Knees bent
5. Back straight
6. Don’t stick your butt out

Are you with me?! Good.

So let’s strap that board on to your shaky legs and glide your way to the chair lift with one foot unstrapped acting as your guide—use your heel or use your toe—NOT AT THE SAME TIME!

Now we are safely on the lift—facing front, board over unstrapped foot, gazing at the piercing blue sky—it’ s an amazing high but don’t get too comfy there my friend—don’t forget you have a snowboard strapped to your foot—this ain’t ski country!

Because when the time comes to scoot off that lift and your overworked brain forgets what equipment is attached to your body—

“Ah! NO!” The leg flails, your face screams desperation and THUD goes your body—my body--underneath the chair lift and it’s 1991 ALL OVER AGAIN!

My poor instructor was either shocked or befuddled as I laid there curled up fearing decapitation. I would be embarrassed but I passed that in 2nd grade when I accidentally peed my pants at Skate City.

And I have never claimed to be graceful!

Whew. Okay we have crawled away from the chair lift and now officially face our first hill. At this moment the instructor mentions, in passing, the phrase “sprained wrists.” IT’S OKAY! We are okay. Because that will not be us. YOU HEAR ME?!

Strap in the other boot and let’s ride down this death defying Bunny Hill! No Fear! Okay, a little fear.

Now, do not be afraid to hang on to your instructor or hell, fall on him. He’s durable.

And that’s what I did.

“I can do this!” I would yell and then fall; on butt, on face, on side, on instructor and repeat.

I learned toe. Then I learned heel. Then I forgot how to do both and just squealed! And my board went left when I wanted right and I leaned front –FACE PLANT! Arm hurting, chest smacking (ribs A-Okay!), knee slamming, pride—hmm no prides fine, CRASH-SMASH into slushy, soft snow.

Breathe. All together—Breathe.

Let’s get up. Shake it off.

Resituate GOOD FORM—point one arm the direction you want the board to go. Put the other arm in front of your mouth like a microphone.

DO NOT, I reiterate, DO NOT get so involved with the “microphone” aspect that you pretend you are Whitney Houston singing I WANT TO DANCE WITH SOMEBODY until a tree just pops out of nowhere and you tumble down again.

Little kids will pass you. People will gawk. And jeerers can meet me in the parking lot.

By now it’s been 2 hours and your focus is shot—did someone say shots? And that’s exactly where I headed too.

And that is the end of our SNOWBOARD TUTORIAL.

*Snowboard photographs have been restricted by me.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Oh Mary Jane! You Dirty, Dirty Girl! (PG-13)

My legs hurt. One hour into downhill skiing in Colorado they hurt. After doing 4 runs they burned—and now three hours later I am facing a conundrum.

See, it floated away about 10 minutes ago. It being my coffee buzz that keeps me running like the Energizer Bunny.

My coffee that I am imagining with bright eyes is down a very, very steep mountain--apparently infamous mountain called MARY JANE (named after the local whore from the 1930's.)

As I stand at the precipice of this rocky mountain, my face drains in sudden fear. "Why don't I have medical insurance? Or even life insurance? My leg--my poor leg is going to snap in two--my brain splattered red on the pure white snow."

I ask myself, "Now Nerissa, do you want coffee? How bad do you want coffee? HOW BAD?!"

I reply, “I WANT IT! I said I WANT IT! Grrr!”

Then shake a leg Lady!

I slowly inch forward as little kids zip past me laughing. My pride puffs my chest to a solid B cup, my gaze steels as I quickly launch forward ready to beat those twerps with my pointy, pointy poles--wait--DOWN THE MOUNTAIN!

Noooooooo MARY JANE!!!

"What now? What now?! Focus. Glide right. Left. Right. Left. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Don't snow plow you nerd!”

What is this? Moguls? I CAN'T DO MOGULS!

I hit a mogul and think "Death." I hit the next mogul and think "Coffee." And repeat with voice influx between high and low--"Death. Coffee. Death. Coffee."

And stop. Breathe. I look down. I unclench my hands from the poles and lift my goggles to survey my options.

Can I walk down? Slide down on my butt? Roll down? Be carried? Oh look, there's an emergency phone. Would they come and get me?

I am pathetic at this moment. A quiet, pathetic, sweaty girl--without her liquid courage...

I can do this without coffee. I have balls without the caffeine. I don't need to butt slide down this mountain.

I. am. gonna. ski. down. like. a. normal. person.

And all I can say to those burning legs of mine is STOP YOUR WHINING!

I swoosh my way down—performing a strategic dance combination of flow and thought.

Oh, sweet, sweet MARY JANE and her smooth mountain soul.

I made it. Drenched in sweat and slightly tweaking out but in one piece nonetheless AND slightly craving a cigarette.

I sipped my coffee and water...letting my shaky legs and mind unwind.

Then I hopped back on the chair lift and DID IT ALL OVER AGAIN!

Of course 2 hours later I couldn't walk.

But 2 hours after that I could feel my butt again.

SO--they might've been right when they invented the catch phrase, NO PAIN-NO GAIN. (No Pain—No Jane as they say in Winter Park.)

Because it was totally worth it.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Cross the Atlantic by Schooner? Crazy? Or AWESOME!

At the ripe age of 20 I proclaimed I AM GOING TO SAIL THE WORLD!

I would buy a boat. Live off the ocean. Dodge sharks. Eat fish. Toss my cookies over the ledge. Salt my pork. (Isn't that what the pilgrims did?)

As a child I had a fixation on Kurt Russell and the movie "Captain Ron." I am a sucker for eye patches.

Now being a server means I collect CHANGE. I threw it in a bucket and every couple months dropped it IN the bank. Where I rolled the money in to EE and II Bonds and slowly collected a sail boat nestegg.

8 years later I produced my first play with that nestegg...so long eye patch...so long salted pork...so long ocean of dreams.

Now! NOW! With the spark of sailing around the world still alive in this little heart of mine, I did a little GOOGLE research and FOUND:

SIRIUS SAILING at www.siriussailing.com!

TRANSATLANTIC SAILING!!! Antigua to Athens in 41 days and a chance to live my dream.

AND if I have my sea legs, I CAN SAIL BACK!

Mind you it would cost more than if I bought a crappy little sail boat and took lessons on Lake Minnetonka and became certified but...

IT'S THE ATLANTIC! And a big boat. I like big boats.

It's adventure like none other. Right up this traveler's alley. And I think it deserves a spot on the List of LIFE'S POSSIBILITIES!