It's A Process: After the Before, But Still Before the After

Have you ever had a crazy dream and looked up its symbology online? Or is that only me?

Anyway, one of the most common elements of my dreams, especially during times of change, is a house.  And according to dream dictionaries, a house always represents you, and its condition is very telling of how you are feeling at the time.

So it should come as no surprise, then, when my husband casually mentioned that my house tweaking verve was symbolic of my own desire to makeover my life, myself and what was next for me.

"You're working through the creative process, Aim," he told me.

Funny that I never made that conscious correlation but he was actually spot on.

Here I was envisioning a brand new kitchen (the heart of the home, aka me), with a bright freshness.  Sure, the bones stayed the same, but the outward appearance and how it was presenting itself would be more in line with the real me and my tastes. It was slowly being transformed into something even better.

{Before. Note the '80s-chic, heavily-grained oak cabinets. Nice, no?}

{During. Note 7-year-old whirling dervish in left corner.}

{Still during. Note non-7-year-old whirling dervish in left corner.}

Hmmm....interesting.

What I find more astonishing is how this transformative process has bled into other areas of my "house" — the adjacent "rooms" are following suit, getting their own facelifts and upgrades, receiving the much-needed love and attention they deserve.  And in doing so, every part of my house will (eventually) be acknowledged, integrated and unified.

Of course this process can't — and won't — happen overnight, despite my enthusiastic fervor and my desire to make it so.  I fully admit upfront that along the way some decisions will seem perfect at the time only to later be found to be not quite right.

But that's okay, because there's always room for growth and change.  And "home" renovation is a never-ending process.

I'm No Jan Brady...and That's Okay

Let's get something straight: I've never identified with Jan Brady.

Yes, we're both the middle of three sisters, had blond hair and questionable eyesight (thanks to Lasik, my is no longer questionable, thank you very much).  But that's where the similarities end.

{That's me on the right, next to my big sis and helping hold our younger sis. Aren't we cute?}

I say this because growing up in the '70s there was very little in the way of relatable and aspiration-worthy icons for a middle sister. Especially if you thought Jan Brady was kinda whiny. ("Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!" anyone?)  Even Jan didn't want to be Jan.

Sure, there were some badass females during that era — The Bionic Woman, Charlie's Angels, Pinky Tuscadero — but all of these women seemed a bit cliché, over the top and not like someone I wanted to be. (Well, I did really did like pink as a child but that's for another post.)

Think back to when you were a little kid — who did you want to be?

It may surprise you to learn that I was an extremely shy child.  Like hiding-behind-my-Mom's-leg-when-our-parents-had-adults-over-the-house shy. This was in stark contrast to my older sis, who, as a first-born and all-around superstar, preferred to use the opportunity of having a new audience in the house to demonstrate her latest gymnastic moves. And to her credit, my sister's leotards did come in handy when constructing our 1976 Halloween costumes — Electra Woman and Dyna Girl (guess who was who?):

{Halloween 1976: Raggedy Ann, gypsies and hobos, oh my!}

But as it is with siblings, when one goes one way, the other goes another.  In the end every child is just trying to find his or her own place in the world, especially as it relates to getting attention and discovering his or her unique gifts and talents.  If you have siblings (especially if you hit the proverbial sibling jackpot and have awesome, rock star older and younger sisters like I do) you know what I mean.

My Dad would always tell my sisters and me (with PC apologies, as this was the '70s): "Be the pilot, not the stewardess. Be the lawyer, not the secretary."  His point was to never limit ourselves or let others dictate what our destiny would be.  And you know what?  He was right.

So who do I want to be?  That answer keeps evolving.  And that's okay.

That said, I can definitively say there will be no Afro wigs in my future.  But you already knew that.

My Doppelgänger

This morning for the first time since my, ahem, transition I actually allowed myself to sit in a coffee shop to enjoy my nonfat latte and write. As I was doing so, my Peet's barista approached.

"Amy," she said. "I have something to tell you."

Of course this immediately piqued my interest (and scared me a bit, truth be told). Had I violated some unspoken coffee house protocol? Had I forgotten to pay? Was there foam on my nose?

Thankfully, it was none of the above.

"There's a woman that comes in nearly every day -- at least on every day you come in -- and she looks exactly like you but with slightly shorter hair. She's here about a half hour to an hour before you and I've been calling her 'Amy' but she keeps telling me her name is 'Colleen.'"

Ah, the elusive doppelgänger. We've all heard tales (okay, urban myths) about how each of us supposedly has a twin out there, in a parallel universe. And if you should ever run across this other half your mind would be blown and dimensions would be shattered, sending the universe and all that we know into a tailspin (or maybe I'm just embellishing here).

Anyway, the gist of it is that meeting your doppelgänger would undoubtedly change the course of history, and certainly the trajectory of your life.

Which got me to thinking: maybe this is the universe telling me that my path is about to change (yippee!), and that meeting up with Colleen would be a really good thing.

Making a mental note to try and grab that latte earlier.  Oh, and to get a haircut.  Just to make it, you know, interesting.

The Evolution of RBP

I know, I know.  It seems like I never write anymore. Well, that's not entirely true. I've been doing a lot of writing of late, just not a lot of publishing.

This blog originally started out as a resource to quickly and easily plan an amazing family getaway.  And while that's still fine and good, it came time to evolve and transition...something that RBP's owner knows all too much about.

Having recently separated from my travel industry job of almost a decade, I've decided to make this blog more about me and my personal evolution and journey (see the connection to travel?) through life...the struggles of being a working (or non-working!) parent of two tween daughters, half of a happily married, live-to-travel couple, a successful business person longing to flex her repressed creative and expressive muscles, a makeover/transformation aficionado and a 40-something woman looking to actively build and blog about a pretty cool life and set of experiences.

As the proud owner of a really big purse, I’ve always been the go-to gal with the goods. I like to think I help people by being a great resource on a lot of little things; my really big purse is chock full of observations, tidbits and info that I'm eager to share. I invite you to follow my journey — the successes, pitfalls and everything in between — and hopefully learn something, laugh and smile along the way.

If this sounds interesting to you, read on.  And if not, try it...you might like it and find something that resonates with you. Besides, you're already here so you might as well stay awhile.  :-)