A Quick Recap

Rocket Fuel got its start as the offshoot of Rocket Designs (a recovery brand that Simon & I launched together). Originally, all my posts looped back to recovery (as everything in my life does). But, I started to feel a little stifled by being tied to a theme…

Rocket Fuel got its start as the offshoot of Rocket Designs (a recovery brand that Simon & I launched together). Originally, all my posts looped back to recovery (as everything in my life does). But, I started to feel a little stifled by being tied to a theme…

At the same time, Simon and I got pulled in different directions (by things like his transition, a move to Atlanta, a near break-up). We decided to continue selling recovery shirts online, but not to further develop the brand. Which left Rocket Fuel hanging around in cyberspace on it’s own.

And soon, I started to wonder if the name really fit what was happening on the blog. And what I want to happen in the future. What do I want to do more of? Well, I’ve dabbled in fiction. (I’ve got a whole middle grades book written… but not published. Remind me to work on that). I love to read (and I’d like to talk about what I’m reading a bit more…) And I want to do a lot more critical thinking and writing about what’s happening in Atlanta (and in the world at large).

What won’t change? Well, me being me. Which means a whole hell of a lot of honesty. And some cussing. And lots of pictures of my kid. And post about running and recovery and coffee and spirituality and parenthood and LIFE.

But the name. Y’all. The name of the blog has got to change.

Coming Soon…

Something new is about to happen at Rocket Fuel, y’all.

Wait, what’s Rocket Fuel?!?

It’s the place where I write about parenting and recovery and running and coffee. I cuss a lot. I ponder the big questions in life. I talk about my marriage. My spirituality. How my adulthood is shaping up–for better or worse.

Something new is about to happen at Rocket Fuel, y’all.

Wait, what’s Rocket Fuel?!?

It’s the place where I write about parenting and recovery and running and coffee. I cuss a lot. I ponder the big questions in life. I talk about my marriage. My spirituality. How my adulthood is shaping up–for better or worse.

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Good question!

The blog is called Rocket Fuel because it was launched in conjunction with Rocket Designs, where Simon designed & sold recovery shirts. (We picked “rocket fuel” because it wa kind of a play on my obsessive love for coffee.) The original idea for Rocket Designs was to scale the business, expand its reach, and become legends in the recovery world (or something kind of like that).

My first blog posts on Rocket Fuel were, in fact, centered around recovery. And it‘s true that I still write about recovery a lot. In fact, recovery underlies everything I write about, because without it, I would have none of the other amazing things I write about: my kid, my marriage, my health, my spirituality, my life. BUT I realized, after a while, that I didn’t want to overtly tie all my posts back to recovery.

And, while the Rocket Design shirts are still for sale on Redbubble, we never put the networking, marketing, and dedication into expanding the idea the way we originally thought we would.

But, while I still love coffee, Rocket Fuel seems kind of like a non-sequitur without being tied to Rocket Designs, no?

(If you want to check out Simon’s shirt designs, you can find them here: https://www.redbubble.com/…/collectio…/174232-rocket-designs)

Detours

I run to explore and discover. Sometimes I get lost. And sometimes I take a detour (which which turns out to be more like a metaphor for life than you might think)

I’ve been exploring my new neighborhood on foot. While running. As I do.

Before I carried my iPhone everywhere, running a spontaneous route presented a challenge for me. Because I was likely to get lost. Very likely. But now I’ve got a handy map, right in the palm of my hand.

Sometimes I consult it. Sometimes I don’t. (And then sometimes I totally misread the damn thing, but that’s a conversation for another time). Right now, I’m in a non-consulting phase–because I’m learning to navigate, and sightseeing, and meeting folks… you know, just getting the lay of the land.

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How I feel about running (and living) in East Atlanta.

Today, I ran up to a fork in the road, hesitated for a minute, then went straight ahead. But I immediately knew I’d chosen wrong, that straight ahead wasn’t the way I wanted to be going at all. So, I u-turned & reversed course. I ran through a lovely part of the neighborhood, quiet with lots of trees. And–miracle of miracles–I knew exactly where I was the whole time. (We’d considered buying a house in this part of East Atlanta and had driven through this neighborhood at least half a dozen times (likely more) in our deliberations.)

I came out of the neighborhood exactly where I expected to (if this doesn’t seem like a revelation, then you must not know me IRL). But what I didn’t expect is how far off the original road (the one where I’d decided not to run straight ahead) I’d actually be. It was further than I’d thought, and the whole right-at-the-fork-instead-of-straight detour added over a mile to my run.

That’s the thing about detours–they take you off your planned track. Sometimes you’re better for it–better run, better marriage, better life. And sometimes, you just don’t realize how far from your original route the detour (that seemed so small) will take you. Or how long it will take you to get back to where you want to be.

My life has excelled at detours. I’m practically valedictorian of detours. But, when life tosses me a detour, there’s really no choice involved. I just have to take the path, look for new things to appreciate along the way, and learn the lessons life’s about to hurtle at me.

But when I get to choose my path, I’m a deliberator. Because I want to know that the detour is worth the extra mile, the unexpected hills, all the challenges of an unfamiliar terrain. I like the life path I’m on. And I respect the shifts that even small choices can bring in my life. So, in the face of a detour, I try like hell to get quiet enough to hear my. inner voice (God… the Universe… whatever) guiding me. And Good LORD am I a talker, so listening is a cultivated skill. But still, I’m learning that the more I listen, the more I know.

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There’s no rule against being cool in my Run ATL shades WHILE I listen. 

Running as Spiritual Practice (Wha???)

Running is sacred for me, like meditation or yoga is for some folks. I check in with myself when I run. I get real. Like, real real.

Running is sacred for me, like meditation or yoga is for some folks. I check in with myself when I run. I get real. Like, real real.

When I’m running, I can’t lie to myself. Who’s got the energy for running AND lying? I get honest when I run. It’s the time I can best see through my own bullshit.

Truth-finding at it’s finest.

This summer, I committed to approaching each run with curiosity & wonder. Atlanta’s got a rich tapestry of complex beauty to explore. But I can’t really engage with my surroundings when I’m tripped up on things like time and distance. So, I stopped struggling to meet goals that required miles of continuous running. And I started taking pictures. Instantly, running became an adventure. Taking time and space to connect with the world around me really upped the ante on running as a spiritual practice.

Now, (on most days) I emerge from a run with an honest, peaceful connection with the space that surrounds me.

Pretty damn cool.

 

Running has also honed my ability to listen to myself. I often set out on a run with some loose goals in mind. But, most of the time, my body has plans of its own. Sometimes that means a farther run, because I’m feeling good or I’m trying to work through something–and I need the mental space and/or the boost of triumph that a long run provides. Or it could mean altering my pace, running faster for a shorter time or plodding along just taking it all in. Running is teaching me to trust myself again (drunks are notoriously untrustworthy. It’s been years since I picked up a drink, but I still struggle with self-trust. Running helps).

Today, on this bright and sunny summer day… I didn’t want to run. It seemed like a helluva lot of work–especially since leaving my house for a run requires running uphill no matter which direction I head. I procrastinated. I rationalized. But I had no good reason to not run–so  I finally hauled my ass out the door. And for the first 500 feet, I was miserable. Then I told my brain to suck it. I needed the time outside. I needed a self-check in. And spiritual practice is, well, a practice–not an if-I-feel-like-it situation.

And I’m so glad I hung in. Because today I found this:

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It’s a splash park, y’all!

I ran through the water (spontaneity! Usually I’m AWFUL at spontaneity). And took a picture. And felt really grateful I’d come on this run after all.

Running’s about discovery for me. And about being a better version of myself.

And, c’mon, a spiritual practice that involves splash parks…that’s rad.

Oakland Cemetery Run

This morning dawned dreary and cool(ish) after last night’s rains. What better time to take a run through one of Atlanta’s most famous cemeteries than on a cloudy Monday morning? Right. No better time. So, off I went.

This morning dawned dreary and cool(ish) after last night’s rains. What better time to take a run through one of Atlanta’s most famous cemeteries than on a cloudy Monday morning? Right. No better time. So, off I went.

The best thing (the VERY best thing) about running in the summer is feeling free to do whatever I want during a run. No pressure. It’s hot as all hell outside, so taking it slower & just staying in the moment becomes a survival technique. And it’s also a technique that lets me take a lot of pictures on my running adventures.

Here’s Oakland Cemetery in Grant Park, Atlanta, in all it’s summertime glory:

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Beautiful. And peaceful. Such a chill way to start my Monday.

I’m grateful I live in Atlanta. Every day, I’m grateful.

 

Florida’s Weird & So Are We

I’m back in Florida to visit my family and to retrieve my daughter from a week of rollicking fun with her grandparents, aunt, and cousin. I mean, for real, they went to Legoland, to the beach, they swam, they played…

I’m back in Florida to visit my family and to retrieve my daughter from a week of rollicking fun with her grandparents, aunt, and cousin. I mean, for real, they went to Legoland, to the beach, they swam, they played… It was, apparently, some serious fun.

I think Jane grew at least 4 inches in this one week. But, in good news, I’m still one of her very favorite people. And she still likes to build stuff:

And she’s still weird as all get out, so there’s that.

I, of course, couldn’t resist a run this morning. It’s really just become part of my daily. And I miss it when I don’t get to go exploring on foot. I know: WEIRD.

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These birds are my nemesis. Seriously, one rose up and flapped it’s wings at me. I cussed him out & then hauled ass out of there. If you assumed I’d think these suckers were majestic or something, well, you just don’t know me at all.

Top left: Untamed Florida. I kept wondering if a gator was about to snatch me up. Bottom left: Planned, designed Florida. Still kept waiting for a gator to get me. Right: A magnolia tree. I checked it first for a gator.

And then, when I was done with my run, drowning in 90% humidity, and sure I was safe from the gators, I found this dude on a playground. I think I’ll call him Lil Whaler:

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Florida’s been fun. Catch y’all when I get back to Atlanta. ❤

5 Things I’ve Learned Today

If you go on & on about how hot Florida is, Georgia’s gonna get all jealous and show off. It’s okay to change plans. Seven year olds are non-truth tellers. Everyone needs to own their part. Today is always a good day for a do-over.

  1. If you go on & on about how hot Florida is, Georgia’s gonna get all jealous and show off. That’s why today it was 87 degrees by 10:30 a.m. And why, on a 5K run, I thought I might simply evaporate into thin air. Or spontaneously combust. Which one is more likely under oppressive heat that sucks all the oxygen out of the air? Either way, hot as actual hell. Sorry, Georgia. You are hot, too. The whole South is hot. So there.

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    Wait! Am I actually in hell?! No, no… that’s just the Atlanta Zoo parking lot. Whew!
  2. It’s okay to change plans. Like if, say, you’d planned on taking a nice jaunt through the cemetery on your run. But then you realize that the cemetery doesn’t have much shade to speak of. Then you might just decided that–unless you want to make the cemetery your permanent home–you should run through the park, where shade abounds and you’re likely to be hot and tired but ALIVE at the end of your run. Maybe, if something like that happened, it’d be okay to change plans.

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    Ah, shade: so beautiful… and life sustaining. 
  3. Seven year olds are non-truth tellers. I discovered this 3 days ago, when I started excavating Jane’s room. Normally, she frowns upon me touching her stuff. But she’s vacationing in Florida right now… which meant I got to venture in to her room and discover that it was DIRTY. Like, real, real dirty. Holy shit. She was supposed to be straightening, dusting, and sweeping her room every week. But, I guess I was also supposed to be checking that she done that oh for, say, the past year. Oops.

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    Jane in Florida with her aunt & her cousin. Shhh… don’t tell her I touched her stuff.
  4. Everyone needs to own their part when shit goes wrong. I know Jane tried to clean her room. There’s just too much STUFF in there for her to clean anything. I let her accumulate all that stuff. Then I didn’t check if she was really cleaning–because I’m overwhelmed by the stuff. I was lazy and wanted to avoid a hard conversation about hanging on to and collecting things …. and I paid for it for the last 3 days.

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    Me, after cleaning Jane’s room.
  5. Today is always a good day for a do-over. I tell Jane we can start our day over any time (thanks A.A. for that little nugget). So, I’m calling a do-over on cleanliness and orderliness. Whatever I’ve been teaching Jane about either one of those so far is a load of horseshit. No one needs as much stuff as she has. And cleanliness is next to godliness–or something like that. I just know that if I ever go into her room again and it’s that dirty, all she’s going to get for the next gift-giving-holiday is a Wet Swiffer and some dust cloths. And maybe a hutch to keep the dust bunnies in.
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    The clean version. For a before shot, imagine if a tornado swept through here. A very dirty tornado.

     

 

 

 

Header Image by Franck V. on Unsplash