Even though you can't hear, LISTEN TO THIS!

Do you guys remember the episode of American Idol when Seacrest offered a congratulatory high five TO A BLIND GUY?

A similar experience occurred last week when one of my dearest (and most intelligent...) friends was discussing her two thumbs up! for the movie 127 Hours.

Julie: "Saw 127 Hours this weekend and give it two thumbs up!
A tip for moviegoers: skip the snacks and drinks - particularly anything yellow like Mt. Dew. Just sayin'."

Unabashed Me: "that's kinda like seacrest throwing up his HIGH FIVE! for the blind guy..."

Just sayin'.

Day 1: I have no legs

There's something to be said about revisiting things you adored, were fascinated by, or that captivated you as a teen or young adult, as an adult. A grown adult. With kids. And a career. And graduate degrees and stuff. Where staying up past 10:00 pm is considered asinine.

I recently revisited the movie Kids for the first time since I was a mere 20 years-old living in Virginia Beach. My life back then involved waiting tables to stay alive and rolling pennies to make rent. Meanwhile, purchasing a bag of grass took about as much forethought as blinking.

Several friends and I snuggled (whether we wanted to or not) on my sectional to take in my inaugural movie club pick. I'm certainly not someone who selects a film involving The Rock or Jackie Chan - I have no idea why I chose those two names to describe what I don't like in a movie. I'm sure both possess qualities in their acting career that really appeal to many movie buffs. Or not.

Side note: Inception was shit no matter which way you slice it.

Whether our own free will or not, the opening scene of Kids? Set the uncomfortable, seat-shifting, gag-reflexing, eye-rolling tone for the 91 minutes each one of us unpleasantly endured. Some of us peered through the fingers we veiled our eyes with while others turned their heads in utter disgust. No matter how we reacted, each one of us simultaneously rattled off how many reasons why THAT IS JUST SO WRONG!

And I still love it.

On shifting

It's been bugging me lately that I have this yearning to create a blog entry, but when I go to write one, I CAN'T. I get this great idea for a topic and then POOF! just like that it's gone.

Today it dawned on me: The masthead. It's all wrong. Just like me struggling to go about my daily routine with Jon still in it, this blog still has him in the masthead. See? Up there?

Not only that, you guys, but we no longer have the Sprinter, bless it's heart. Probably went to some electrician, or general contractor, or painter, or courier, or moving company. SOMEWHERE IT BELONGS.

Just like the decision to ditch the Sprinter and finally get a normal family vehicle, I opted to ditch Jon as my husband. Wait. I'm still keeping him on as The Father of My Kids. He's really good at that part. Amazing, even. Not so much in the Emily's Husband role, though.

I'm shedding things over here, you guys. People warned me this happens with divorce. And I'm really thinking I'm starting to believe it. The contract is the first to go. You know, the one that declares this person as your HUSBAND or WIFE? Just a formality? Really? Enjoy it when you get sick of that person you spent however-many years with and want out. And that whole 50% thing? Might be worth paying attention to.

Friends shed like your dog's winter coat. Or that snake skin you find on the vine whilst vintnering (shout out to Molly!). It's amazing how people choose to align with one person or the other, rarely maintaining a balance with both exes. Everyone plays a hearty role in creating this shift in friendships. I've found trusting people I once thought I could to be difficult. If you're friends with Jon, supporting Jon, how can you also, equally, support and help me? And vice versa. You may think you can, say you can even. But I don't buy it. I successfully shoved a pretty good friend away by, well, I'll keep all those dainty details to myself. But see, I clearly needed to shift myself in a different direction than the one I was going. I have found a minute select few who are capable of being friends with both Jon and me. And that group can be shaved down into two more groups: Real and Not So Real. Surface bullshit is no longer a part of any friendship I desire. Being blunt and honest? That's a very strong part of my character. Those who can't handle it, POOF! gone.

There's this thing we call Self Medicating. Are you familiar? Thought so. Being able to shed the need to escape into a bottle of High Life or even Torpedo or Two Hearted and replace it with going to bed when my kids do is a fantastic change. Plus I like to enjoy my beers and not just not just regret having them when I get up in the morning. Ouch.

Part of being married to someone I didn't want to be married to created a lot of conflict within myself. Following the divorce, I continued to maintain a positive relationship "for the kids." Just like that guy Doug from the 80s would say, It's an illusion! I'm all, Wait. Didn't I divorce you? For those reasons? Why are you still here? What am I doing? It's like Sleeping Beauty who was awoken after 100 years of slumber by a simple kiss from her prince. Only I'm waking after 10 years of constantly comparing myself to other wives and mothers, knowing the whole time it didn't feel right. And nobody's kissing me. It's Egan shouting, MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM, CAN YOU WIPE ME?!

It's extremely liberating to focus my energies on my kids, my career, my interests, and me; instead of trying to be someone I'm not with all that pretend stuff in the way.

Now about that masthead...

Holy Wonderful Weekend, Batman!

Here's how small the world is: On my way back to CF from outside of Winterset, I stopped in Des Moines to reunite with three amazing friends. I begin describing my weekend to said friends Leslie, Phil, Reimer, and Sam - who at 13 was far more concerned about the table of cackling 'tweens dressed in dance recital regalia than my stories of fire spinning, cowgirling, and lazy 35-year-old lounging.

Elaborating far further than necessary about The Duchess of Sheets's amazing garden, Leslie stops me. She explains she too knows The Duchess because he gave her a bunch of zucchini one night. Bombarded by my imaginary chorus of "that's what she said's," I remained on topic realizing that Leslie and I not only share our astrological sign and personality similarities, we know the same amazing people.

Sundrenched cheeks, nose, and chest - dubbed "Spring Break," as in, "Braaaaaah, thrashing the pipe at Breck left me with mad goggle face." - I am acclimating to civilization slowly but surely. Against my will.