1. Caffeine-free Diet Coke is basically vaping. I don't know what's in there, just that it's some kind of chemical concoction that somewhat hits near the spot. (Full disclosure - I am still hitting he good stuff, just not after 4pm.)
2. My recent dreams: driving cars with faulty brakes as they accelerate downhill, and discovering that the weight I've heretofore attributed to Trump and Christmas was actually a surprise stealth pregnancy, and now I'm gonna go into a lot of debt. I'm a little too scared to dig into what this may mean.
3. I really should be writing here occasionally. I get ideas, but they get stuck in my head and never migrate to my fingers. I have some new responsibilities, and some old ones that needed more attention, but I also have old anxieties and stressors and it's sometimes more fun to binge-watch 'Victoria' and, let's face it, keep up with 'The Bachelor'. What can I say? It's like Planet Earth, but with people.
Is there anything you want to hear about?
Tuesday, February 7, 2017
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
Slowing Things Down
Well, I finally set down the cross-stitch, and I'm back at the keyboard. Self-awareness is, in my experience, not so much a gradual climb ever spiraling upward. Instead, it's craggy and unpredictable and marked by periods of blissful ignorance, nonsensical frustration, and whiplash paradigm shifts.
I started this blog with some very intense goals in mind. Write another novel. Write meaningful, personal blog entries that would someday make a surprisingly best-selling memoir. Give my life a grander sense of purpose and really achieve my potential. There's nothing wrong with wanting these things - but I didn't realize how starkly this experiment would reveal/revive a long-standing inner turmoil.
When I was in second grade, I think my teacher thought I was a genius. She was convinced I should be a neurosurgeon, because that was the most money you could make for being so smart. Unfortunately, I don't think she kept this opinion to herself very well, which felt really good but made my social life and personal neuroses a bit more uncomfortable. I also won a 'young writer' competition that year I think, which felt like such a dreamy future destiny. So now there were things to live up to, for me and those around me.
The summer after my freshman year at BYU, I got really really bored. I missed school, the work and the friends. So I decided to take a Philosophy class at the local community college. Clearly it would be easier than BYU, and I would go blow them away with my fabulous writing and insights and take home easy credits. The most vivid detail I can recall is that the professor had a long beard and bushy eyebrows, but no hair on his arms or legs. I listened but didn't really engage, read but didn't study. When I got my first, short assignment back, it bore the first 'D' I had ever received in my up-to-then-stellar scholastic career. I dropped the class and never went back.
Identities forged by suggestions and praise tend to harden into a crust when we wear them long enough - and 'smart girl' and 'future writer' gave me social anxiety blisters rather than the better, truer feeling of being seen. I've been learning to stop 'hustling for worthiness' (a Brené Brown phrase) and embrace the messy imperfection in my life and self, but it's still a process, and I still have plateaus and ditches and many more hills to climb.
So it was with this blog, and those aspirations above. Wanting to use my voice and share my thoughts turned into watching the number of page views and Facebook likes with a bit too much fervor. I don't think anyone sets out to do what they want without encountering plenty of lessons on what they don't want. One thing I've learned is that I want to be content and pleased with my own small, personal life. I have to fully embrace my own home and family and community and self in a way that may leave less time and energy for the bigger and grander versions of myself - it was a tremendous relief to hold this blog and what it represents to me a bit more loosely.
I'm not going away - I will still write here a few times a month. But I think I will probably be more thoughtful about what I write, instead of obsessing over how often I write, and how popular that writing is. Let me just write to you, my friends, and share my little corner of life with you. That's what I really care about, anyway.
I started this blog with some very intense goals in mind. Write another novel. Write meaningful, personal blog entries that would someday make a surprisingly best-selling memoir. Give my life a grander sense of purpose and really achieve my potential. There's nothing wrong with wanting these things - but I didn't realize how starkly this experiment would reveal/revive a long-standing inner turmoil.
When I was in second grade, I think my teacher thought I was a genius. She was convinced I should be a neurosurgeon, because that was the most money you could make for being so smart. Unfortunately, I don't think she kept this opinion to herself very well, which felt really good but made my social life and personal neuroses a bit more uncomfortable. I also won a 'young writer' competition that year I think, which felt like such a dreamy future destiny. So now there were things to live up to, for me and those around me.
The summer after my freshman year at BYU, I got really really bored. I missed school, the work and the friends. So I decided to take a Philosophy class at the local community college. Clearly it would be easier than BYU, and I would go blow them away with my fabulous writing and insights and take home easy credits. The most vivid detail I can recall is that the professor had a long beard and bushy eyebrows, but no hair on his arms or legs. I listened but didn't really engage, read but didn't study. When I got my first, short assignment back, it bore the first 'D' I had ever received in my up-to-then-stellar scholastic career. I dropped the class and never went back.
Identities forged by suggestions and praise tend to harden into a crust when we wear them long enough - and 'smart girl' and 'future writer' gave me social anxiety blisters rather than the better, truer feeling of being seen. I've been learning to stop 'hustling for worthiness' (a Brené Brown phrase) and embrace the messy imperfection in my life and self, but it's still a process, and I still have plateaus and ditches and many more hills to climb.
So it was with this blog, and those aspirations above. Wanting to use my voice and share my thoughts turned into watching the number of page views and Facebook likes with a bit too much fervor. I don't think anyone sets out to do what they want without encountering plenty of lessons on what they don't want. One thing I've learned is that I want to be content and pleased with my own small, personal life. I have to fully embrace my own home and family and community and self in a way that may leave less time and energy for the bigger and grander versions of myself - it was a tremendous relief to hold this blog and what it represents to me a bit more loosely.
I'm not going away - I will still write here a few times a month. But I think I will probably be more thoughtful about what I write, instead of obsessing over how often I write, and how popular that writing is. Let me just write to you, my friends, and share my little corner of life with you. That's what I really care about, anyway.
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
Intentions, Interrupted
I picked a 'word of the year' this year, and sometime around September I forgot to remember it. This is odd considering it's been my laptop's wallpaper all year, but we all know the phenomenon of refrigerator blindness and I think this functions in a similar way.
Luckily, my word is 'Grace', so I am letting go of my snarky self-talk and trying again.
You would think that I would take this opportunity to write a little essay on my word and what it has meant for me this year. But this ain't that post.
Instead, I want to tell you about my best intentions. I am great at beginnings, and the enthusiasm of fresh starts, and not stellar at follow through and completion. For example: At the beginning of November, I set a jar on the counter and intended to write little notes each day of things I'm thankful for, and invite Dave and any visitors to the house to do the same. Here is the jar today.
There's a red leaf in there. I put it in there yesterday, a week or so after Dave pointed out that it looked like we were thankful for nothing. My other thought was to take the lid off and say we are grateful for everything, and the jar is a cosmic symbol of the universe. But it's a cool-looking leaf, so I feel good about it.
I am, as the kids (might) would have said in my day, hella grateful for a lot of things. But I guess I found out that I'm not 'calligraphy on seasonal scrapbooking paper' grateful.
I have a few items of seasonal decor that have sat waiting to be hung up for a few weeks. They will probably see the inside of a box for several months before they see a hanger. I intend to make apple cider donuts this week so that I can hopefully use the cider I bought to replace the one I bought two years ago that sat in the garage and seasoned itself out of drinkability. The sheer number of unfinished craft projects tucked into various nooks and crannies would make some of you cry. Let's all have a moment of silence for my dear long-suffering husband who is tearing up/breaking out in hives just reading this post.
But! Today! I am picking up a long-delayed project and going back to work on a cross-stitched Christmas stocking I started maybe 7 years ago. It's gonna be beautiful sometime around 2023.
Luckily, my word is 'Grace', so I am letting go of my snarky self-talk and trying again.
You would think that I would take this opportunity to write a little essay on my word and what it has meant for me this year. But this ain't that post.
Instead, I want to tell you about my best intentions. I am great at beginnings, and the enthusiasm of fresh starts, and not stellar at follow through and completion. For example: At the beginning of November, I set a jar on the counter and intended to write little notes each day of things I'm thankful for, and invite Dave and any visitors to the house to do the same. Here is the jar today.
There's a red leaf in there. I put it in there yesterday, a week or so after Dave pointed out that it looked like we were thankful for nothing. My other thought was to take the lid off and say we are grateful for everything, and the jar is a cosmic symbol of the universe. But it's a cool-looking leaf, so I feel good about it.
I am, as the kids (might) would have said in my day, hella grateful for a lot of things. But I guess I found out that I'm not 'calligraphy on seasonal scrapbooking paper' grateful.
I have a few items of seasonal decor that have sat waiting to be hung up for a few weeks. They will probably see the inside of a box for several months before they see a hanger. I intend to make apple cider donuts this week so that I can hopefully use the cider I bought to replace the one I bought two years ago that sat in the garage and seasoned itself out of drinkability. The sheer number of unfinished craft projects tucked into various nooks and crannies would make some of you cry. Let's all have a moment of silence for my dear long-suffering husband who is tearing up/breaking out in hives just reading this post.
But! Today! I am picking up a long-delayed project and going back to work on a cross-stitched Christmas stocking I started maybe 7 years ago. It's gonna be beautiful sometime around 2023.
Friday, November 18, 2016
Our Lady of Perpetual Calendars
Today (November 18) is, as I'm sure you are all well aware, Mickey Mouse's birthday. (I wasn't aware of his birthday until this year, and I'm a big fan, so don't feel bad.) I decided to add this important date to the 'Woodland Creatures' perpetual birthday calendar hanging on the side of my fridge.
Important side note - as a pregnant person, I was sure that Asher's name and my Woodland baby shower theme were completely innovative. Five years later Asher is a wildly popular name and every freaking thing in Target has a squirrel or a deer on it. Not complaining - I still love what I love with absurd glee. You should see the be-scarved plush critters I got on clearance last week: a-dor-a-bull.
So, the perpetual calendar. Mostly just family birthdays, with a few unusual additions. For example: 7 or 8 years ago, on a foggy morning, I ran over a rabbit on the way to church. In my late teens/early twenties, I frequently cried at the sight of roadkill, so this experience was devastating. In processing my grief and trauma, David and I created Frederich von Bunnington Memorial Day. January 3rd, of course. There is still some confusion as to whether Frederich von Bunnington (RIP) was a hero, a simpleton, or an existential bully. We may never know. But he is remembered, and occasionally toasted with a memorial carrot.
When I was a freshman at BYU, my friends created a calendar of unusual holidays for us to follow, and I am trying to put together some more similar celebratory days for my little family to commemorate. I could see us embracing 'Flip Flop Day' (traditionally in January) a little too easily if current weather trends continue. I may have to go digging through my college memorabilia and see if I still have my calendar - I need more holidays! What would be a good month for 'Treat Yo Self' day? I'm thinking February because February usually blows.
What unique days and events do you commemorate? What new holiday would you institute?
Important side note - as a pregnant person, I was sure that Asher's name and my Woodland baby shower theme were completely innovative. Five years later Asher is a wildly popular name and every freaking thing in Target has a squirrel or a deer on it. Not complaining - I still love what I love with absurd glee. You should see the be-scarved plush critters I got on clearance last week: a-dor-a-bull.
So, the perpetual calendar. Mostly just family birthdays, with a few unusual additions. For example: 7 or 8 years ago, on a foggy morning, I ran over a rabbit on the way to church. In my late teens/early twenties, I frequently cried at the sight of roadkill, so this experience was devastating. In processing my grief and trauma, David and I created Frederich von Bunnington Memorial Day. January 3rd, of course. There is still some confusion as to whether Frederich von Bunnington (RIP) was a hero, a simpleton, or an existential bully. We may never know. But he is remembered, and occasionally toasted with a memorial carrot.
When I was a freshman at BYU, my friends created a calendar of unusual holidays for us to follow, and I am trying to put together some more similar celebratory days for my little family to commemorate. I could see us embracing 'Flip Flop Day' (traditionally in January) a little too easily if current weather trends continue. I may have to go digging through my college memorabilia and see if I still have my calendar - I need more holidays! What would be a good month for 'Treat Yo Self' day? I'm thinking February because February usually blows.
What unique days and events do you commemorate? What new holiday would you institute?
Thursday, November 17, 2016
Trying to Write
Tuesday night, Asher didn't want to sleep. He woke at 1 am, a bit too warm under his blankets, and yelled "Mom! Mom! MOMMY! MAAAHMMMMEEEEEEE!" Which is actually the normal sound of my human alarm clock sometime around 6 am. But one o'clock is pretty punishing. I attempted resettlement, with fresh water and a lighter blanket and maybe a mildly threatening exasperation in my voice. My offers were rejected.
And I'm a sucker for cuddles, so we ended up on the couch, and hallelujah he fell back to sleep and we snuggled til 6:20. I know he won't always want to use me as a human teddy bear, so I'm cool with it on occasion.
Around 8:30, Dave woke up and could barely move - back spasm. His first of what the Dr. assured us will likely be many. We are feeling old.
He stayed in a chair for most of the day. And after Ash returned from preschool, they were both making plenty of requests for help. I was up and down, fetching and carrying, back and forth. Plug in the computer cord? Turn on Blue's Clues? Cough drops? A snack? A drink?
It took me a second after Dave raised his eyebrow to realize that the drink I was offering him was apple juice in a sippy cup. He politely declined.
I haven't felt much like writing. I just want to watch 'The Crown' on Netflix and fiddle with my phone. It's hard to create the space in my mind and life to put something more interesting together than haikus about poop. But hey, that's showing up, too. So I'm still trying.
And I'm a sucker for cuddles, so we ended up on the couch, and hallelujah he fell back to sleep and we snuggled til 6:20. I know he won't always want to use me as a human teddy bear, so I'm cool with it on occasion.
Around 8:30, Dave woke up and could barely move - back spasm. His first of what the Dr. assured us will likely be many. We are feeling old.
He stayed in a chair for most of the day. And after Ash returned from preschool, they were both making plenty of requests for help. I was up and down, fetching and carrying, back and forth. Plug in the computer cord? Turn on Blue's Clues? Cough drops? A snack? A drink?
It took me a second after Dave raised his eyebrow to realize that the drink I was offering him was apple juice in a sippy cup. He politely declined.
I haven't felt much like writing. I just want to watch 'The Crown' on Netflix and fiddle with my phone. It's hard to create the space in my mind and life to put something more interesting together than haikus about poop. But hey, that's showing up, too. So I'm still trying.
Monday, November 14, 2016
Bad Haiku, inspired by a text to David
I love my crock-pot
but sometimes I wish that my
planning was quicker
---
do I smell diaper
or is it something burning
but sometimes I wish that my
planning was quicker
---
do I smell diaper
or is it something burning
or this recipe
---
also, just as a
heads up, dinner will be late
(sent at 5pm)
Saturday, November 12, 2016
A Poem, on the arrival of cool weather
Thank you, last year's self,
for the foresight
the storage space
the fatalism
the grace
to save the jeans that had become too big.
for the foresight
the storage space
the fatalism
the grace
to save the jeans that had become too big.
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