I am a quiet girl, prone to moving through life at a turtle’s pace and to doing things at small, detailed levels. I am not one for making big splashes, yet I know I can have profound effects. Nevertheless, when I look back at my life, sometimes I feel like I haven’t done much; the tracks I leave tend to be humble, not monumental, and it can be difficult for me to see that I’ve “made something” of my life.

From where I sit today I know that this past year has been monumental, I can feel it. To give myself a tangible sense of this, I made a list (’cause that’s how I roll).

In the year twenty-ten:

I swam with turtles in the Caribbean and with sturgeon in the Puget Sound. I stood on a cliff and watched a pod of seals frolic. I stood on a riverbank and gazed enraptured while fledgling eagles squealed through their first solo soaring.

I found bald eagle and red-tailed hawk feathers, and marveled at mountain bluebirds and merlins. I lingered with a village of hermit crabs; they were magic and freaky at the same time.

I found a wee, pink orchid on a remote hillside, where pirates had walked centuries before. And at a roadside stand I bought beautiful rattles made from “garbage” by a man with a lovely voice and knowing eyes.

I drove through miles and miles of wheat farms, top down on my yellow car and my farm-girl DNA all a-ga-ga. I rode small ferry boats across a river, a lake, and a sea. I lingered with many a sunrise, sunset, and the Milky Way. I saw shooting stars, and watched fireworks.

I tickled my circus bone, at Teatro ZinZanni, Ricochet, Libertease, Can Can, Columbia City Cabaret, Moisture Festival, Circus Contraption, and twice at Cirque du Soleil’s KOOZA—where the King of Clowns hit me over the noggin with a Porterhouse steak and confetti sailed out of a cannon and into my cleavage.

I became Mayor of Heimlich’s Chew Chew, Hollywood Tower of Terror, and Malo Trading Post.

I learned how to do my make-up as if I were a burlesque performer, and I wore 3D glasses at the midnight opening of Alice in Wonderland.

With the love and kindnesses of friends and family, I survived a divorce (there was a lovely, laughter- and tear-filled party at my new apartment the night-of), and with the brute power of my friends and family, seven months later I packed up all my west-coast belongings and moved 300 miles east.

I built a website for a poet, because I love his voice, and I nudged a shamen through publishing a daring book. I (finally!) opened my Etsy shop—and actually (finally!) sold some of the vintage things I’ve accumulated.

I made new friends, and expanded existing friendships. I could have been a better friend, but I’m pretty sure everyone still loves me nevertheless. And I’m okay with that.

I did not send out my annual Valentine, and I regret that, but February 14 was only a month after my divorce was finalized, so I was not feeling much Cupid in my heart. (I am looking forward to rectifying this in 2011.)

I took good care of my body—celebrating one year of sobriety, losing twenty pounds, and indulging in Pilates. I got pretty descent at feeding myself, even though I abhor doing so.

A priest and I collaborated on a sexy little art project. And in an interesting turn of events, I crafted my first art installation, which hung at a major art festival. There were also many art dates with dear friends and these included glitter, gossip, and giggles.

There was much!!! sand between my toes–from several different beaches–and lingering poolside in Ballard plus skinny dipping in a pool in Los Angeles.

I invented a new sport—the S’mores Off—and I did not win this roasted marshmallow competition, but I launched much laughter and learned ways to refine my roasting technique. PUFFY.

I did many things that were uncomfortable, practicing spontaneity and no-fear; I believe I am better off for doing so.

I have also been dabbling in vulnerability, and I am grateful to know that there are openings in the walls I built around my heart. Not many of them, and not large openings, but after the way I began this year in a complete upheavel of my life, even the wee, smallest openings to my heart are precious.

Thank you all for riding along with me. I really would not have made it without you.

Two nights at KOOZÄ makes me an expert, right. So here’s a list of tips to get maximum enjoyment out of your two-plus hours of enchantment with Cirque du Soleil.

First, if you are coulrophobic, this is probably the wrong show for you. All circuses are suspect for anyone who is afraid of clowns, but KOOZÄ is certainly so.

KOOZÄ is a return to the origins of Cirque du Soleil: It combines two circus traditions – acrobatic performance and the art of clowning.

Secondly, if you are fearful of being “picked”−selected from the audience and pulled on stage for something−wait until just before the show starts to take your seat.

But, that would be sad, because that half hour between doors opening and the show starting is a sweet time to settle in and start imbibing in the glory that is circus. I like to use this pre-show time to absorb the bits that otherwise distract me during the performance−the infrastructure that makes a Cirque du Soleil show possible. The incredible towers that hold the lights and the riggings. The tent itself. The round stage, the draperies, the “music” of the crowd as 2,600 people enter the the grand chapiteau with anticipation.

After a bit there will be the antics of the pre-show, which will introduce you to some of the key characters of the performance. Will The Pickpocket give you a balloon? And, The King, will he acknowledge your presence, you, the mere subject? That woman in the splendid dress, is she in the audience or in the show? And oh my gosh, I can’t believe that man is walking right over the audience!

You may want to study the show in advance, if knowing a bit about the production adds to your enjoyment (and for me, it does). You can read more about the characters and the acts on the KOOZÄ website.

The show does start on time−you’ll want to be in your seat by the time the house announcements begin; when those conclude the grand chapiteau goes black and the first act begins.

And from what I can tell, there’s not a bad seat for this show; the producers and performers really want you to be entranced by the experience.

And yes, tickets are dear. This is a huge production−more than 200 people working for seven days to set up just the infrastructure for the show. Imagine the hours of practice and rehearsal! So open your wallet as far as you can and buy the best seat you can. You are buying magic, don’t short-change yourself. (Is the VIP Tapis Rouge package worth the price? Yes, if money is no object or you are trying very hard to seduce the person you bring with you. Otherwise, I’d save that money and use it to return to the show a second time.)

If you’ve purchased E-tickets for KOOZÄ, be sure to print the actual tickets that arrived as an attachment to the email; they will be the ones with the bar-code on them. And don’t print multiple copies of just one ticket, the bar-codes are unique.

Some people have said the show’s “not kid appropriate”. Of course this judgment is personal, but it’s not how I would deem the show. Sure, in any Cirque du Soleil production there’ll be at least one woman in a costume that gives the illusion of nudity but it’s not gratuitous. And, there’ll be acts that you wouldn’t want your children to try. And certainly, children need to reach a certain level of development to really appreciate all that is KOOZÄ.

I think the bigger issue/question though, is to attend KOOZÄ in the company of people who won’t be a distraction from the show. In other words, avoid going with needy types, be they a grown-up friend who is fussy or children who demand popcorn.

And that popcorn is, as you would expect, pricey . . .

Once you pass through the ticket takers you’ll find the souvenirs, snacks, actual meals, beverages−including beer and wine (get a yellow KOOZÄ wrist bracelet that confirms you are legal drinking age), and the trailers with the potties. This area opens an hour before the show. I used this time to preview the souvenirs, meandering among the displays (because the selection differs at each one).

At one of the less-busy corner displays, the clerk was very outgoing, and this is how I learned that some souvenir prices are negotiable. I love the Cirque du Soleil reusable totes and picked out one that was priced at $8.00. The uber helpful clerk explained that if I bought two, the total price would be only $6.00. There was a similar bargain price on the snappy wrist bracelets that I like. (At $5.00 USD these bracelets are great, affordable souvenir to take home to your kids or office mates. They can be sized smaller by snipping off the ends.)

There is a half-hour intermission, when you can do more shopping and snacking and use the potties. Or, not. Instead just stay in your seat and soak up more of the atmosphere.

The grand chapiteau itself is kept at a “controlled temperature” which means, air-conditioned to be comfortable for the performers. This makes sense, of course, but might not be what you expect at a performance . . . bring a wrap.

And if you are so inclined, bring your binoculars, so you can study the costumes and the make-up and such. Of course, such focus will distract you from the larger show, but sometimes I find myself sooooo curious about how something is constructed. And, unlike many stage sets that lose their magic upon close examination, these costumes and such remain lovely even under scrutiny.

Naturally, recording of any kind is not allowed. Respect that. Some of the performers monitor Twitter; hashtag or mention KOOZA with your shout-outs of love−but not during the actual performance of course; that would be rude and stupid, and the clowns will hunt you down.

And now the ugly part. Which if you are not attending the Seattle show, just skip off now and go on with your day. Leave your own KOOZÄ tips in the comments if you please.

Getting to the show and parking. For the Seattle show (again, actually at Marymoor Park in Redmond), ALLOW YOURSELF MUCH MORE TIME THAN YOU THINK YOU NEED TO GET THERE−especially on weekday evenings during commuter traffic. Don’t believe Google maps estimation of how long it will take. 520 is especially ugly; my second time I went 405 to Redmond and entered Marymoor Park from the east side−a little confusing, but completely possible.

The process of entering the park and actually parking takes for-ever. Invariably the drivers ahead of you will be stopping at each sentry to ask questions, and there are a lot of sentries between leaving the main road and the parking lot. Just keep driving. There will be signs indicating No Parking for Cirque du Soleil and then there will be signs indicating YES we want you to park here . . .

BRING $15.00 in CASH for parking, and the first sentry at the lot does not take your money−look for the one with the wad of bills in his/her hand.

Take note of which letter marks the row you parked in and on which side, or take a photo with your cell phone. Everything will look different when you come to retrieve your car. Believe me.

Think about coming way too early, having a leisurely picnic while you wait for the venue to open. You’ll save your nerves by not rushing, and save some cash by not purchasing snacks inside.

And ladies, this is a grass parking lot. Think about that when choosing your foot wear, especially if it is raining.

Once the show is over and you’re leaving the lot, odds are good it will take a very long time to work your way back out of the parking lot. So be prepared. Use the potties before you go if you have the least urge. Maybe have a snack and beverage waiting in the car.

And if you go to an evening performance on a “school night” whatever you do, don’t make yourself any 7 a.m. appointments for the next day−not only will you get home late, but you’ll be way too enchanted to fall asleep :)