Heart, meet head.

When it comes to your heart, does it ever truly connect with your head? And should it even bother?

I've recently found myself getting swept away by a possibility. In the beginning, this possibility was more of "we'll see" and less of a sure thing. Later that possibility became a no. And then later, a resounding no along with other possibilities. And now...now that possibility has gained strength; becoming a strong possibility.

Amidst my impending move and this possibility are some fierce opinions between my head and my heart. My heart is excited, passionate, and longing while my head is attempting to wrestle its way to the lead with reason and logic. I feel like I've become the rope used in a tug of war. And with Black Monday and a trip to The Beach just around the corner, I have found that my head is starting to give way to my heart as it fantasizes about this possibility and what's to come...

Curiosity killed the cat. And me.

Ever get so curious about the "what if's" and the "what's to come" that you could just burst? That's me. I cannot stand the not knowing. I really can't.

If I've said it once I've said it a million times, I'm a destination girl. I like to pretend on certain days that I enjoy the journey, but if we're being honest here it's time for me to come clean one more time. I hate the suspense.

Even more honest: Maybe it's just me, but the worst part about the time that's in between one part of your life and the next is that it's usually a learning time. A time where something pertinent and profound is taught to you in some form or other. I'm sure there's a Mary Sunshine out there that thinks this season of life is awesome. I'm not her.

In between my deciding to move to Portland and the actual act of that happening, I've stumbled upon a few reasons why I might want to stay near The Bay. Nothing serious. Nothing really big. But they're there. Dangling in front of me. Taunting me. Trying to make me find other reasons to stay put.

Are you kidding me?!?!

This is me. Desperately trying to be patient.

Once again, I find myself forced to remain open to...anything. While it's sort of a relief to not have to commit too seriously to the unknown of a somewhat far away city, the curiosity of what's down the road is literally killing me.

Free to be you....and me!

My mom says that I used to have a record (yes, a record!) of Marlo Thomas' Free To Be You & Me. I can just imagine me with my Dorothy Hamill haircut, dancing around the living room in corduroy bell-bottom pants, letting the words wash over me. I can't even remember the tune of the song, but my mom likes to remind me every so often of that particular album and then proceeds to hum a tune wile looking at me expectantly, waiting for the familiarity bell to ring true with my faded memory. She also likes to remind me of certain characters or episodes of Mel's Diner as if I were alive when that show was made.

Uh....right.

Anyway, I was looking over some of my posts from this past year and came across the one about picking a mantra and was remembering all over again how definitive that statement was for me. Since I've gone back to working for myself full time I've had the opportunity to either fail miserably or succeed in the most unbelievable ways. As my old ballet teacher used to say, this is my time to shine! There is really no in-between when it comes to owning your own business. You either make it or you don't. And I think that a huge part of whether or not a business survives (especially in this economy!) is due largely to passion. In other words, if you're all in, it shows. And this principle goes far beyond your commitment to your work. If you're all in with who you are, it shows.

I'm not entirely sure when this Stella got her groove back, but since I've recovered parts of myself that I felt were lost, I have been all in. It's like I've taken on a whole new personality...or maybe just reclaimed pieces of my joy or enthusiasm. Either way, these last couple of months I have finally felt like I am free to be me.

Best feeling in the world.

Color me fickle.

Okay. OKAY! I know. I said that was the last post and I meant it. But every time I visit these words, ready to send it to blog heaven, I can't. I miss this little blog. I love my biz blog, but I yearn for this blog. My little corner of the web where I can rant and rave without worry. Where I can type out anything my little heart desires and not fear that I just upset a lurking client.

That's me. Little Miss Fickle.

So, dear readers, I have decided NOT to shut this little bloggy down. I need it too much. 

Having said that, here's my latest blahblahblah: I am about to move to Portland*. A city that I like, but can't help but instantly see pictures of unwashed hippies every time I say its name. A place I said I would never live. Ironically, I'm about to write out the exact same post I wrote about a year ago.

I'm moving.
Again.

This time I'm moving with purpose. Sort of. At least, I know what I want to do when I get there. I have visions of what my life could look like up there and it's not bad. In fact, between the haziness it looks pretty fabulous. I know without a doubt that I am the kind of girl who is about a million times happier when she's within arm's length of a burgeoning city. That said, I have really come to love life here in The Country. It's been a sweet place to come heal, rest and otherwise find myself all over again. A part of me is a little sad to leave. And truth be told, a large part of me has been scared to death lately.

I've always been envious of those people who just pick up and move on without a second thought. Those people who look at life like one big adventure all the time and never seem to have moments of self-doubt or worry.

Who are these people? Are they on drugs?? Can I get some of these drugs?!

Portland will not be the first city I've ever lived in. And It probably won't be my last. I have no idea what has me so fearful. I had to fight my way through this last year and fight I did. It almost took every last bit of me to make it through, but darn it if I didn't make it out of 2010 still in tact! Knowing that I took on the most crazy and convoluted mess that 365 days can throw your way and lived to tell about it, I can probably handle anything 2011 will throw my way.

So. I am making this move. I will probably be scared. And hopefully, in the meantime, get my excited mojo back. In any case, I will survive this too. And I will live to tell about it!


*I really do like Portland. In fact, I love that city. And I am very much looking forward to living there, despite what I wrote. The hippie comment is just a weird stereotype that I've believed for far too long. And anyway, it's not like hippies are zombies...

One more thing!

Since I teased you all with my mustache presents it's only fair I show you how the mustache lollipops turned out! They're fantastic, if I do say so myself :)

Yum!

Directing traffic

I recently launched my biz blog and ever since then this poor little blog has been ignored, pushed aside and basically forgotten. I feel bad. I like consistency. I crave consistency! But my poor brain can only keep up with one blog at a time which is why this blog will soon be redirected to the new one. And although I know that the bulk of my readers know me and have already attached themselves to the other blog, I have a feeling there are a few more lurkers than I'm aware of. Soooo, in case you're a reader I haven't met yet, feel free to hop on over to the biz blog!

Don't worry. It's not all serious, all the time. It's like a mullet. It's only business half the time. *wink*

iPhone love and other drugs

Disaster has struck this Urban Cowboy.

That's the cool new nickname I earned while I was in New Mexico! I love it!

My iphone took a dip in the waterfall on our ranch. Yes, I know how cool that sounds: waterfall. ranch. I get it, but seriously! Hear me out! My iphone, my baby, the love of my life almost met it's maker today! Well, not really it's maker, but it almost went to the sad sad place that all dead iphones go when they've been submerged in water. Where ever that is.

I was working from the ranch house today, sleepily clicking away until my head could no longer stand the smell of urethane paint that my dad's employee was using to coat the new wooden stairs. I felt queasy, tired and irritated by the headache that had formed. So, I debated on whether to make the 20 minute trek to town to get some "real work" done or just go for a walk around the property. The walk sounded better. I'm a known workaholic. So, breaks have begrudgingly somewhat become a part of my daily routine.

I sauntered down our road to the lower pond and was enjoying the fresh rain smell. As I walked around the pond I decided to hike up the canyon and through the small waterfall that forms into a creek that feeds our pond. It's always been one of my favorite spots on the ranch-especially this time of year! The canyon rocks are covered with green moss, baby ferns and leaves from a plethora of oak trees that grow up like crooked necked old men, bending and hovering their low-reaching branches like withered canes. I was so excited to take it all in. The fresh air had never been more crisp. The water was getting colder and I imagined what it would look like when the snow comes again. The rocks were perfectly green and slippery. I took a million photos with my iphone, my baby, careful not to slip or fall over and let go of my precious. I popped my iphone back into my sweatshirt pocket and started further up the waterfall. But one precarious step was all it took. That's when I heard it. It's an unmistakable sound, the sound of plastic casing tapping against rock. To this Mac disciple, it's the sound of horror.

I felt around the inside of my sweatshirt pocket and said out loud, "What? No. No, that can't be. Oh my gosh. Oh crap. Oh no. OH NOOOOOO!" I frantically searched the craggy, mossy rocks and shallow pools of water first. "This can't be!", my mind raced. "This only happens to other people!" And that's when I started frantically plunging my hands and arms into the deeper parts of the wintry currents. Luckily, my first plunge was my last. I had found it! I had rescued my love from the icy grips of rugged rain water! If it were an option I would have administered mouth-to-mouth just to be sure it would survive. Instead, I desperately, but lovingly touched the little circle button hoping I could will it back to life. Success! It's eyes opened, flickering while I pushed the little arrow left to right holding out hope that I would once again see my home screen. Spotted with drops of water, I could still make out the basic apps of my sweet baby. It was going to be alright.

This is right around the time that I realized I was so far up the canyon that it would make more sense to cut across the hill to my left, through another canyon and hike straight up the hill to the main road rather than go back the way I came in. I simultaneously remembered that I was in mountain lion country. I was so busy being enchanted by my iphone and the nature that was its background that I forgot to be on the lookout for wild animals. (Hence the name Urban Cowboy.) But when love is on your mind you'll do anything to rescue, save, nourish or otherwise tend to the object of your affection. So, I tramped through the muddy fields, around fallen trees and down the steep and slippery canyon walls just to get my treasured possession to a much needed bag of rice. It was treacherous and I looked like a rag flailing in the wind as I tripped, slipped and bumped my way to the top of the mountain. Muddy, sweating and out of breath I made it to the main road, raced to the house and saved my dear iphone.

I may not be the best at living in the country. In fact, I'll be the first to admit that life on the ranch has me perplexed most days. But when the chips are down, the proverbial sh*t has hit the fan, and you need someone to git 'er done, I'm your girl!