I very rarely discuss politics. I have always believed I have the right to vote and support any candidate I choose, for any reason. And so does everybody else. I won’t debate with you. I won’t try to change your mind. I won’t ask you who you are going to vote for. I usually know where all my friends and family stand and I’m OK with that. Some of the people I love the most are die-hard Republicans. I can disagree with someone without getting into a screaming match or disrespecting them.

This supreme court nomination process has made me question the very future of this country. I have sat back and watched the crazy interactions and totally ignorant comments on Facebook & Twitter, while trying to pick up my jaw from the floor. I have seen the IQ of Americans drop right before my eyes.

Now it’s my turn. This is my space, and like everyone else, my opinion is my right. This is still America, for now.

You want to know why so many victims of rape and sexual assault never report the crime? Because as traumatic, scary and violent the actual act may have been, it can’t compare to what could happen if they tell anyone. Just take a look at the crucifixion of Dr. Ford. Look how the Republicans have tried to shame her and butcher her character. They turned her into a victim again. I’m just appalled. 

I’m not going to tell my story. It’s not much different than hundreds of other victims. Yet, too many woman I know tell it. I only told my story once. I told my mother. But I have listened to too many of my girlfriends talk about what happened to them. Some of them can talk about it easily and some have cried every time it is mentioned. There is absolutely no “right” way to handle this. I was lucky enough that my brain has allowed me to store that night away in the back of mind and it only appears occasionally. But I know so many who deal with the aftermath of their trauma every single day. I am lucky. Too many are not.

I am scared for the future of women in this country. We all know how the President and his merry band of Republicans feel about women. We all know every degrading, hurtful and humiliating comment he (and others) have made about women. Yet, the people elected him. Women have had to fight for every right we now have and we had to fight hard. It wasn’t that long ago that wives were basically owned by their husbands, women could not own land or have a bank account and we could not vote. And let’s not forget every where else on the planet where this is still the norm. But that’s a rant for another day.  And I have to mention wage inequality in this country. (At last count women earn 79.6 cents to a man’s dollar for the same job.) 

I’m not here to validate Dr. Ford’s story. Nor am I going to try to disprove it. But the treatment of her by the committee, the media and everyone else with an opinion has burnt me to the core. How many other women have been treated with the same malice, just not in front of the media for everyone to see? We all know the answer and that’s why so many remain silent.

Have some women fabricated rape and assault? We all know that some have. But it’s my opinion that this number is very, very low. And shame on them. 

I’m scared for the future because I don’t know what’s next. Overturning Roe vs. Wade is always in the back of my mind. I don’t think old men should get to decide what I, or any woman, can do with her body. I’m not going to argue morals or religion. I believe in giving women, all women, a choice.

So, after almost never discussing politics, I have wrote my opinion. And now I will count to 10 and get on with my life. And pray for our great country.

I am not too proud to say I have cried most of today. Before I even got out of bed this morning my phone rang with the news Anthony Bourdain had died from an apparent suicide in France. The tears started at 6:15 AM and haven’t really stopped yet.

I know Tony was a celebrity that I never had the pleasure to meet, although I tried. The timing and location just never seemed to work. Having a meal and conversation with him was top on my bucket list. I always knew what I would cook and I knew what we would talk about. I already had my list of questions ready for him. Maybe someday I will be ready to share those, but not today. His quit wit, salty attitude and general disdain for “the man” just escalated my love for him. I thought we could be the bestest of friends.

But the truth is, I wanted his job. I wanted to be Anthony Bourdain, the girl version. I have been living a great love affair with food and travel and his written and spoken words have always been magic to me. He taught me to love street food. He taught me to be unafraid to order new things at local restaurants. When I did travel, I listened to the locals about where to get the best food. Bourdain convinced me to buy a good and very expensive knife. He schooled me on who really does the best cooking in high-end restaurants. I never knew what a Michelin Star was until Tony came along. He gave me the dream of going to Vietnam, Beirut and Paris, while also showing me a lot of great places in the lower 48 and what to eat when I got there.

I have everything Tony ever put on TV in my video library. I have a lot of favorites, but the Beirut episodes on No Reservations are my favorites as well the the Parts Unknown episode when he returned. If you want to see Bradley Cooper in his early days, watch the short-lived series Kitchen Confidential based on Tony’s book.

I want to say something profound about suicide and it’s prevention, but I’ve got nothing. Suicide has hit me close to home in recent years. I’ve seen the grief, I’ve seen the unanswered questions left behind and I’ve seen how those same people tried to keep going after someone they love was gone. I’ve also fought my own internal demons at times when I thought there was no other answer. But somehow life won, at least for that day.

The world is a sadder place without Anthony Bourdain. When I do travel, the places won’t be the same. When I eat, the food won’t taste the same.

The universal truth I keep replaying over and over in my head is “Be kind, everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about.”

I haven’t wrote here in a long, long time. It’s not for lack of trying. I have had a lot going on, both good and bad, and a lot I can’t write about. So let’s start with what I can write about. Business has been phenomenal, my personal life has been a roller coaster, there have been epic high and horrible lows and the squad and I have had some pretty great adventures lately.

Right now I am in the best place I have ever been professionally. I’m hanging up my programmer hat and I’m going to create all the time. It was a hard decision to make. I’m walking away from the almost constant travel, I’m walking away from the financial benefits of being a software engineer, but I’m gaining the freedom to do whatever I want, whenever I want. I’m still in transition mode and will be for at least the next six months, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. This is what I have worked my entire life for, but it is a change. And change brings apprehension at times.

I’m on a plane right now beside one of my best friends. I have dragged her along because for the first time in my life I am afraid to be alone. I’m afraid the overwhelming sadness sitting in my heart will win. I have always been a loner. I have never had a reason to need anyone. I have always taken care of myself. I’m afraid if I’m alone I will never go home. I have lived out of my suitcase for so long. Being home is foreign to me, but I like the idea.

I have tried to stay  at the lake, it’s not home yet. I don’t know that it ever will be without him there. It was for him—for us, but if he isn’t there I can’t stay there. It will never be home without him.

So in the meantime, I’m doing everything in my power to stay away from my house. I have drug Amberle thru too many airports, hotels and rental cars and then I pushed them away. And then I’ll pop thru Carmi and grab a quick lunch with Dora just to assure her I am still alive and spend some time with my folks. I can’t forget John, who calls every single day without fail just to make sure I am still in the country. I promised him I would take him the next time I decided to travel outside the US. He may get a call soon. The boys will usually find me and they seem to gravitate to the lake. And of course, Lucas has Lizzy in tow when they arrive.

When I am at the lake I have developed an unhealthy obsession with baking. I have always been a pretty accomplished cook, but never a baker. But right now all I can concentrate on in the kitchen is cookies, cakes and pies. I must say, I have made some pretty tasty treats lately. I have absolutely perfected my coconut cream pie. Maybe I am destined to be Suzy Homemaker. I sure wish I could be.

I’ve been thinking about home and what and where that is for me. Honestly, I can’t give an acceptable explanation.

As much as my parent’s home in Carmi will always will be home to me, I don’t feel at home there. Of course I feel the unconditional love of my parents every time I walk in their back door, and of course every childhood memory I have originated there. They moved to this home in 1973 and have never lived anywhere else. It is where we all started and where we will probably all end.

I have spent many miles on the road for my career over the past 10 years. I spent too many days away when my boys were teenagers when I shouldn’t have. I hope they have forgiven me by now. I hope that my struggles, and theirs, helped to make them who they are—and who they are is awesome.

I have spent more nights in motels than in my own place in the past four years. I have also spent too much time in my friends’ guest rooms and on their couches. My home has always been open to my squad, and they have graciously never turned me away when I have shown up on their doorsteps not wanting to be alone. As much as I crave my solitude, at times I have needed them to feed me, hug my neck or just be a physical presence without saying a word. They all know my life story and they all know my dream.

In the past two months I have been trying harder than usual to get grounded with little success. I have looked at way too many properties and am overwhelmed trying to make a decision. I leased another apartment, but it’s far from being my home.

I know why I can’t think straight. I know exactly why. I have had a dream in my head and heart for way too many years to count. Realistically, I never thought this dream could possibly come true.

Too many days of silence almost had me giving up hope, but I didn’t. I have been patient, which is not even close to a word I would use to describe myself. I told myself every cheesy cliché about patience I could find. I sat on my hands when I probably shouldn’t have. I let things just play out. I intentionally stayed away, stayed quiet and never trolled around. I didn’t know what was going on in his life, it didn’t matter.

There were so many months I was just a few miles away, but drove on by like it was nothing when my heart was pulling my truck to his exit. There were many nights I stood on my balcony looking toward Illinois wondering if he was looking toward the city and thinking about me. I still don’t know if he ever was. With every business decision I made, I tried to imagine what his advise would have been to me.

Now, I’m trying to keep going like nothing is different. I am trying not to alter my schedule, my work load or my mindset. Nothing has changed, not really, not yet. But I’m ready. I have been prepping for this moment, I have been training my team for the day I can walk away. All I need to hear is, “today is the day,” and this girl’s lifestyle changes.

Tomorrow is Monday. I will pack my bag and hit the road, but I still have the same dream; now, it seems like it might come true.