A 300 Hour Day

Do you ever feel like your life is one giant metaphor? The moment I entertained the notion that we might all really be connected and that nothing is really random, it seemed that all the forces in the universe high-fived each other in celebration that I finally “got it.”

My last post “Tomato Roots”¬†came bursting out all at once. I could hardly wait to follow it up with the VINES! Yep, this was it. Felt totally right. It was a next step, a level up, a tying together of everything we all bring to Hot Tomato. I would spend the rest of October creating brilliant marketing and getting women into the studio to help them celebrate their stories and scars, family and history. EVERY very kind of beauty!! The ROOTS, the VINES!

Stay Tuned

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“Stay Tuned” was how I ended my last post. The next day my sister overdosed on heroin.

Mom held her as she seized in the ER. Dad paced the hall with his hand fixed over his mouth. I made phone calls. Our work, political agenda, domestic duties, holiday preparations, social obligations and personal priorities were checked at the hospital doors until further notice.

The last two weeks have have been more like one very stressful 300 hour day. Being in the ICU with a loved one, for me, is sort of like being an on-call journalist and news reporter, while going to medical school during a family reunion in a minimum security prison. Information in a hospital is a giant game of telephone only using words like dialysis, fasciotomy and rhabdomyolsis. It’s also a terrible time to be introduced to strangers but here they come in droves bearing worried looks and awkward embraces. Your conversations are like recordings that are played again and again. It still feels good be useful. You lead an odd parade past your unconscious family member and together you stare at them, stroke their hand and then stand there and chat in hushed tones as if remarking on a museum display. It’s all very strange.

Back to My Roots

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I was pretty sure I understood what I meant in my last post when I spoke of the power and possibility in my roots but I had just scratched at the proverbial surface.

There’s nothing quite like a large scale family tragedy to check the quality of the ol roots. Holy numerous branches and fibers, Batman! I knew I had some serious, deep family veins but I truly had no idea my network of support was so beautiful, complex and far-reaching.¬†Support, nourish, encourage growth…yes indeed. In every kind of way.

I shared this glimpse of my last two weeks because I recognize that we all have life events that afford us the opportunity to grow. Our crew often is privileged to be part of that growth. Being a witness to change, a hand in healing and a new root system of continued support…

I love that part most.

 

Tomato Roots

I want the same thing for myself as I want for my vegetables…To grow strong and colorful, to nourish those that care for me, to leave behind quality seed and to die as organic compost”

~Jesse Hyde

I wrote that note on Facebook soon after I opened my account in 2009. Hot Tomato wasn’t a twinkle in my eye or even ink on my skin yet. I homeschooled. I gardened. I hung herbs around my kitchen. I watched my little girls chase butterflies and build fairy houses.

Facebook recently asked me if I’d like to update my bio. I read the current version and thought “Oh geez, how antiquated! Yes, I must update with something sassy that tells the world that I am a powerful Hot Tomato!” Then I read it again.

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