So now that I've been tagged TWICE with "Five Things You Probably Don't Know About Me," I suppose I'd better get to it. I hope it's not too boring... if so, blame my wonderful friends Gwen and Case. They're the taggers.
Okay, spit-spot, Kira:


1.   Well, I was born in Boulder where I went to Shining Mountain Waldorf School and lived in a world of fairies and gnomes, wooden toys and no television. At this strange school, we spent most of our time drawing pictures of letters in the alphabet rather than reading them, doing Eurythmy in place of P.E.,  taking care of chickens, knitting hats, singing songs, drawing with block crayons (literally square blocks of colored beezwax) and painting with organic all-natural toxic-free paint that smelled like rotten eggs.
If you're wonderfing what made me the weirdo that I am today, I hope this has answered it for you....

2.   When I was three, I broke my leg and knocked my two front teeth out in the same week. At least I got them both done at once! I've always made an effort to be efficient.

3.   I play the Scandinavian fiddle. I used to play in a group and would have to wear full-on costume (vest, wooden shoes, skirt, apron, you name it) for performances. I still remember the songs, but skip the outfit when practicing. (Vests look better on some people than others...).

4.  I danced in a hip-hop group for three years and almost moved to L.A. when I was seventeen to be in music videos. Instead, I chose to stay here and finish highschool... (After all, one doesn't require a move to the big city in order to shake her booty; All the tools are right behind her).

5.  I lived for a year in Amherst, MA at Hampshire College (basically a hippie commune where classes are held on special occasions). I spent my time there as a wheat-free vegan with cupboards filled with mysterious "food" rescued from Trader Joe's dumpster.

Okey dokey smokey.
:)
 Love you all.

  It's so beautiful how the simplest things can bring back the essence of a person... How we can pick up an old scarf and suddenly feel its owner in the room, or smell something in the air and immediately be reminded of a certain conversation on a certain day in a certain year long since passed.... I experienced that today in the form of a lovely visit from my grandma Natalie. It started when my friend offered me an orange-flavored tic tac.... And there she was! In full force--beautiful, strong, intense, passionate Brooklyn-raised woman with a no-bullshit attitude, and the most generous and loving disposition I've ever known in a person. She has always been so precious to me. The last few years of her life, which she spent horizontal in a bed being fed mysterious concoctions by my grandpa Morrie, unable to speak or move, were painful beyond belief. This wasn't her... It was a body---a shell enclosing a strong essence of an intelligent REnaissance woman somewhere within, keeping her silent and tortured. Where was she during that time?? Where was that sassy spunk of a woman who never showed an interest in cooking or cleaning, even in the '50's when most women her age had never been through college? The woman who I can thank for teaching me my first four-letter words at a young age, and for giving me a head start in practicing their use in normal conversation? She was there... We knew it. Her spirit had left and, somewhere, was thriving in a state of beauty.  We had to believe that in order to go on. And we knew it was true... We could feel her spirit in the air, even if it no longer showed on her face. I still feel her now.
My sisters and I adored that woman... worshipped her, really. We used to spend every Thanksgiving at their ancient mansion in Evanston, IL. That place scared the hell out of me with its dark corners and creaky hallways... There was even an old broken elevator, which, to this day, I am convinced has a skeleton hanging from the ropes! My sisters and I would go everywhere together... Each trip to the bathroom was a group activity. We got along extra well on those trips; I guess we figured we'd better keep each other around just in case! Natalie loved that house. They never bothered calling any professionals to work on it, even though it was ready to dissolve into a pile of gray stone dust. Why spend the money when Morrie had a tall step ladder and two working legs??
 We'd always explore their refrigerator and find epic, unrecognizable items with expiration dates from the '60's. It was like a treasure hunt every time!  My favorite was the gingerbread house we built in 1989....that same one she pulled out every year to display on their dessert tray until they moved to Oakland in 2003. That thing was an antique. She'd also hold on to the cookies we'd make from the tubes of dough she'd buy on sale at the Jewel. Each year, as we decrorated our current batch, she'd go digging in the freezer for last year's. It wa a good way to see progress in our art skills. Every year they''d look slightly more professional! Morrie would make his 24-hour turkey, which, by the end of the full day, would lose every last drop of moisture and be a choking hazard. (Wouldn't want to leave any excess fat, now would we? Still today, if I eat meat it must be cooked to the state of jerkey. I blame him affectionately for that). One particular day, as we sat and cut our tube of dough, Natalie realized the occupation of the oven by this turkey, and insisted it be removed at once. She did this eloquently as always, exclaiming in her strong Brooklyn accent "Morrie! Get that fucking thing outa there!" Ah, the warm holiday memories of our sweet little grannie!   :)  We'd play hide-and-seek in that scary castle, and she'd always pretend not to see me. I thought it was amazing that she looked straight at me, but somehow, would still say "Huh... Where could that Kira be at!?" I must have been a good hider.
I could go on forever.... I adored her. I do still. She always carried orange tic tacs in her purse.... And she'd hand them out to any child she'd see, stranger or family.
I'm grateful for this sweet little reminder of this heroic woman. She is the spark I carry with me, and the strength I hope to build upon forever.

I can't seem to hold in my mind all there is to feel gratefulness for in this world. It's overwhelming. I can say, to sit with a long-time dear friend today was MEDICINE. We loved each other at six, and we love each other now. The understanding--the communication between us never fades, even after months of silence between us, when our lives are full and "grown-up".... (HA!)... There never is a true absence of her in my life. We are as we always were---She is the sparkling-eyed angelic one with tumbling blonde locks, who sheds love with every word and speaks honesty in every realm of her life. Next to her, I may as well be wearing my devil horns--I, the older, shorter, curly-haired clumsy goofball who she receives with constant laughter and sweetness. She always seems to be giggling affectionately at me. Her laughter's contagious and always has been. Connecting and loving a friend so genuinely for so long--watching each other grow and experience the world and develop into our deeper selves, is truly a gift. To think that we once spent our time together tossing our dolls off balconies during our long sessions of our favorite game (which now seems a bit like a child psychologist's playground)! We now sit, completely relating to our lives today--our loves, our losses, our inspirtations joys and sorrows guilts and longings and stresses and beliefs.... Wow. We used to pretend that fairies lived in our ears, and if we listened very closely, we could hear their sweet fairy voices telling us what to do and where to go. That game was her idea. But I liked it. A part of me couldn't completely buy into the idea that there really were the fairies in there... I mean, why couldn't we feel them fluttering around? How did they fit in there, and why didn't we see them travel in and out? It just didn't quite all fit together in my head.  But, oh, how I wanted to believe as purely and completely as she did! How i wanted to rid myself of the skepticism that held me from the state of complete faith that allowed her to live into this little world of ours with both feet in the door! As we spend time together now, I feel the same admiration--the same longing to be open and receptive to all things--tangible, or not... Through her own share of life stumblings, she is still the girl who followed the fairies, and believed in the magic of life. I see magic now more than ever. And I am so lucky to share it with her--the girl, the WOMAN (!) who taught me to see it.