Drawn to the Flame

A Photograph

2012-01-27T05:04:00.005-07:00

I often wonder what someone looking at our snapshots of life, without knowing any other details about us, would think of us. What story do those shots tell?

My friend Kim posted a month or so ago about taking a snapshot of her kids the same day every month to mark the changes in them and their lives. That idea has been percolating in my mind ever since. The 27th is both Sammy's birth day and our anniversary day, so I thought that would be the perfect day to try this, needing an easy reminder day. We'll see how I do. And will continue to wonder what people think when they catch glimpses of this little life we're carving.

January 27, 2012:

(us, last night...me, relaxing after a rough head-achy day, Isaac just home from work and the boy heading to bed...picture, blurry and quick because I nearly forgot before I even began.)

(if you were here, thompson twins)

Girls, Girls, Girls

2012-01-26T05:15:00.003-07:00

I've always been a guy's girl. I relate more to them. They've always been better friends. It was a tough transition after I got married to cultivate women friendships because I'm not the best at them. I don't get the women drama, I think. I've been lucky, lately, at finding women who are similar in eschewing that stereotype, as well, so that has definitely helped, but when I find myself embroiled in a high school-esque drama situation, I feel helpless and so very confused. Why can't all friendships be easy and drama free? Why can't we all just say what we mean, take breaks in the relationship as needed and just...be there for one another? Why the high school drama tactics to the women who are supposed to mean the most to us? I live in a simplistic ideal, clearly.

I've begun to notice that this confusion extends into moms needing to trump other moms, as well. I had forgotten how cutthroat the business of first babies can be, but have been observing it from the sidelines with my friend. A 37 week pregnant "I'm tired and uncomfortable" becomes a one-upmanship free for all. "You think you're tired now? Just you wait." "Oh. I hear you. I am EXHAUSTED today with my kids running around." "Try sleeping with a toddler AND being pregnant!" And I just want to say...REALLY? Why can't we say anything helpful? Why do we have to be top martyr in the game of life and make everything all about us? Why can't we just say..."Oh, man. I'm so sorry! I remember how miserable that is. What can I do to help?" Playing the "Just you wait" game is not helpful. You don't know what my kid is going to be like next year and just because your little Beelzebub was a certain way doesn't mean mine will be and even if he is? Not my concern right now. My concern is the here and now in my parenting journey and I need empathy and support. Not judgey holier than thou narcissistic warbling. I know I've been guilty, but I've been trying to be super aware of how I phrase things and being more empathetic and less self involved. Because why do we feel the need to make everything a competition? Everyone's journey is different and we all are doing our best. HELPFUL hints. HELPFUL comments. Support and a well placed "how can I help". That's what we need. Because sleeping 27 years pregnant does suck. No matter if it's your first, third or 20th. No one upping needed, there.

(pretty boys and pretty girls, book of love)

You Know, Don't You?

2012-01-24T12:40:00.002-07:00

You know those moments in life when you find yourself enveloped in a great big ball o' pity? That was me this past week. BEYOND in a funk. Blinding rage for anything and everything in my path. I withdrew in person and online until I could get a handle on it. Which I did. Mostly. Laughing so hard you cry at Starbucks with friends also helped. It always does.

I have nothing in my life that's just for me. Wow. Talk about sweeping generalizations! But I feel it's true. I gave up writing, because that wasn't happening and now I'm left with...well, blinding murderous rage, apparently. And little else. I have nothing I'm good at. I have no career and no hobbies. This "mom" thing is taxing most days and I don't feel I'm very good at it, so that leaves me feeling very empty, indeed.

The real problem, however, is I'm rooted in confusion to the point that I don't know what to do to FIX this. I have no solutions. I have no answers. I have no plan. And that is frustrating me greatly, because at 38 years old, one would think I would have a plan. Instead, I just feel lost and empty and so confused and so very ashamed that I have wasted so very long chasing a dream that is clearly not going to pan out only to be this old and have no other purpose. What exactly happened? And what do I do about it? I have no answers right now. But I need to find some before I go completely insane.

(kiss with a fist, florence+the machine)

"But Do They Bubble And Froth..."

2012-01-20T04:25:00.003-07:00

My friend Emily forwarded this to some of us and I immediately fell in love with it (oh, how I love Stephen Fry!), passed it along and watched it several more times. And now I'm sharing here. Because I adore it just that much. Words are amazing and I can get lost in their sounds and the way they feel in my mouth. Constructing the perfect sentence is euphoric, for me. And people who have nothing better to do than complain about things that don't matter shoot that euphoria through the foot. So let's all have a little word sex in the coming days. Just for the sheer joy of being alive and literate, shall we?

(falling slowly, the frames)

This. That.

2012-01-19T04:31:00.005-07:00

1. Our book club book this month, Juliet, Immortal, was, quite frankly, one of the worst books I've ever tried to get through. Which I didn't. Get through. I read half and skimmed the rest and then wanted to stab my eye with a fork. It was an AWFUL book. Horribly written and just...juvenile. I mean, I even read Twilight to finish, people. That's how bad this was. Which is sad considering the premise was fantastic to the point I was really excited to read it. Disappointment galore. I need a cleanser, now.

2. My sister's etsy site, Paisley Cinnamon is live. She has ADORABLE stuff. Go. Look. Buy. And sign up for her blog, also Paisley Cinnamon.

3. I'm dealing with something in my life I REALLY wish I could talk about. Because I have found that things are dealt with better when talked and not bottled. But I can't. And it's making me sad and REALLY mad. Sigh. Luckily it's moo and just a tiny blip and will be out of my life before I know it. But, oh. I do love to vent.

4. We bought a second freezer last week (an upright!) and that makes me...I don't know. But it's weird. Two freezers. I'm hopeful we can get everything into the upright and save the chest for turkeys and chickens. First milestone of food storage complete!

5. Sammy and I had a "do nothing but veg in front of movies" day on Tuesday. Those don't come nearly as often as they are needed.

6. I'm finding I'm so intolerant of people's drama lately. I'm guessing 38 years of trying to make everything ok for everyone and I just don't...care any more. Stop the drama. Everything's not always all about you. Say what you mean. Grow up. Realize that no place is perfect neither are people. Be open - to people, experiences, things. You may think you're the most open minded in the world, but if you came off your high horse, you'd see that the enemy really isn't there like you thought. Whew! I think that covers many of the ills I've been seeing. See one that fits you? Take it, embrace it, run with it and grow up. We'll all be happier. Hmmmm. Did I just say that to the world? Huh. Carry on. Nothing to see here.

7. I really want these boots and I don't know how to reconcile that in my head.

8. I finally started watching PBS's Downton Abbey. Oh, my. I just adore it. And for the first time since getting rid of tv, I'm sad. Justified started this week. And we still need to catch up on season 2. I keep telling myself that it's fine, but man. I'm antsy. Speaking of...The Swell Season on DVD just got a release date. Guess what's preordered?

9. I ate so many clementines yesterday, I think my body may be holding on to a secret case of scurvy I don't know about.

10. This has been my theme song this week. I forget how much I love it.

(emperor's new clothes, sinead o'connor)

I Think The Dread Starts The Day After Graduation...

2012-01-18T04:45:00.003-07:00

Speaking of scheduling vacation days for the year, the date for my 20 year reunion has been set.

My friend and I immediately took to our beds and started talking about it and wondering a)why we even care (but we do!) and maybe after this summer we will no longer really have to think about high school. Which was a little less than kind to either of us.

I'm so torn on whether or not to go. On one hand, I kind of want to. I have friends that will be there that I haven't seen for awhile and I would love to catch up. In the flesh. On the other hand, I hated high school. I've made great strides in my life and don't want to go through the whole "feeling awkward and 14 again". On one hand, I would get to go home again. On the other...I hated high school. See the pattern?

I think it would be fine and I'm definitely erring on the side of going (although did I mention it would be in New Mexico? In JULY?) but there is a little part of me that isn't sure I can fake smile my way through three days. Even if the other part of me really wants to show Isaac how insane my graduating class was. And there's the matter of it taking time away from home and having to reschedule Sammy's birthday plans. Which I swore I'd never do. And I think it's the main thing holding me back from firmly committing...well, that and it's still a day's drive from any airport to my home town, so getting there isn't going to be a rosy ball of fun. Sigh. What does one wear to a 20 year reunion when she'll be one of a handful not completely wasted? Oh, wait. Same thing I wore in high school... (go 6th period 'game of quarters'! I mean Food Science!)

I'm looking MUCH more forward to Isaac's 20 year. At least then I can hang with friends I know and see on a nearly daily basis anyway!

(In finding the right song for today's video, I found this list. And then curled into a tight ball, rocking back and forth as much for the sheer greatness of music 1992 produced and for how holy fricking old I am. Sigh...However. This. Perfect AND it's from 1992. Sometimes the music gods smile...)

(we hate it when our friends become successful, morrissey)

To Fill That Awkward Silence

2012-01-17T05:30:00.001-07:00

I often feel stating my word of the year shows me in a very uncomfortable, vulnerable light. I feel stripped bare as I lay the pieces at your feet throughout the year. It's such an odd process and if I didn't find it so invaluable, I'd most likely give it up completely. Especially this year. This year I feel so broken open. So exposed.

But here is the thing (and there is always a 'thing', right?). I have a GREAT life. I have the best husband in the known world. I have a great son. I have friends and resources and enough for my needs and most of my wants. I am happy. I am blessed. Life is, dare I say?, good. So good. And that is what brought me to my word. Because even though it's good - and it is - I know it can be even better.

I have a portion of my soul that I write about. It leads some to believe that I'm negative. That I'm unhappy. That I don't allow failure to surround me. Nothing is further from the truth. I'm not negative. All the time. I'm happy. Most of the time. I fail. Often. I write about this portion, which, admittedly, if you don't know me, you may take away that it is the WHOLE rather than the PART. It is the portion that drives the fear and as such, I need to get it under control. To make things even better. Even happier. To live my life with joy. But this portion, it leaves me feeling bare and broken open, for the entire world to judge and sit as witnesses. And that leaves me apprehensive. Because I don't want this journey to become the whole story. I want to keep it just a portion, but I fear (FEAR! See? I need this!) it's dominant simply by way of being foremost in my mind. And I need to remember to treat it as the part it is and not as the whole it is not.

(stripped, depeche mode)

Looking Forward

2012-01-16T05:34:00.002-07:00

January is here and, while warmer and drier than normal, it's still January. Which means I need something to look forward to. So I started to do what I do. Vacation planning...

It would be easy for me to skip this year altogether and, well, the next couple of years really, and look forward to our trip (date undetermined as of yet) to England (London! Manchester! Scotland! Ireland!). But I can't. Even though I'm already RIDICULOUSLY excited for it and may have already started pinning ideas for it. But, ahem. This plan is not about that plan. For now. So I'll keep the British dreaming (London! Manchester! Scotland! Ireland!) to myself for a while longer.

This spring, instead, we're headed home (home...for me). I'm really looking forward to it. We're touring a good portion of the southwest, which we haven't really done, before. When we go home, it's usually a straight shot to my parents and back with nary a side trip to be seen. This time, however, we are hopeful to hit Phoenix and see some people and then go home via Santa Fe and Albuquerque to do some exploring. I've never been to Santa Fe (criminal, right?) and I'm eager to go. Sammy's just eager to do a puzzle with Grandma...and it's about time I start to firm up a few plans.

Next up, we have a girls weekend in New York for me and my best friends from college. I have no words for this one. Days in a hotel, not being a mom? I think I just shed a tear at the thought. I mean, I'm really looking forward to it, I think it will be swell! Shopping, food, the company. Though I will miss my boys something fierce, I think it's the right time to do this. A little shot of adrenaline just before summer hits.

And, well, it's hard not to ALREADY look forward to our anniversary get away. Even if I do need to wait eight more months for it. I look forward to it every year and as the cold settles into my bones, not to leave until at least May, it sounds better and better. Icy drinks, warm sun, beautiful stars, warm jacuzzi. Sigh...

Anyone up for financing a spontaneous and immediate trip to some warm sandy shore for me? No? I guess I'll just have to look forward, then. For now.

(home, depeche mode)

Dispatches From Sammy's Mind

2012-01-13T04:14:00.007-07:00

Sammy asked, the other day, why we have a sticker on our car that says "Finn". I told him why and said, "did you know I wanted to name you Finn but daddy said no?". He looked awfully concerned at this nugget and all of a sudden said, in his best high pitched baby voice, with his head really low below his hands, like he was a baby, "don't name me Finn, name me Sammy!". "Mommy, that's totally what I said when I was a baby...". Sigh...such a goober kid!

He made a collar for Momo. Out of construction paper and tape. My son is the Macgyver of construction paper and tape I swear.

A paper from school. Which kind of broke my heart. Not enough to ACT on his wish, mind you, but a little broken none the less.

("I wish my stuffed cat was real")

Sammy's favorite song. This week.

(barenaked ladies, popcorn)

I Do Love Technology

2012-01-12T05:41:00.002-07:00

Where is the point where you are too dependent on technology? In the past few weeks, I've been frustrated (clearly not REALLY) that spell check doesn't pop up as I'm writing, Isaac lamented that you can't treat radio (pandora excepting...) like an ipod and how Sammy finds commercials really novel and gets frustrated when I tell him to fast forward over them.

Technology is such a bizarre thing in our lives. We can watch a show on our tv, pause it, get ready for bed and grab the ipad and unpause whatever it was we were watching. Sammy can maneuver music on his ipod better than...I don't know what. We certainly weren't tech deprived growing up (my mom played a mean atari), but now it's just off the charts. Going cable-less and solely antennae has actually given us MORE to watch. Which is ... well, something.

I'm certainly not wishing it all away. I love being able to read whatever book I'm currently reading while I wait for something and only have my ipod with me. I love not taking a bag to church - every need at the flick of a wrist. But other times...I miss the scratching of pen to paper. The weight of a book. And I wonder what Sammy's world will be like - will he mourn the 'quiet technology void' of his childhood? And how much more tech soaking will it get?

(video killed the radio star, the buggles)

Afraid. Part the First

2012-01-11T06:13:00.000-07:00

I often wonder where the notion that you aren't 'supposed' to, or are afraid to, say what you truly want out loud comes from. I look at my five year old and he has zero problems stating his desires loudly for all to hear. Where, in adulthood, does that stop?

Part of my fearing less is going to be learning how to state what I truly desire. It's difficult for me...I honestly have stopped doing that years ago and I don't know why. If I don't vocalize needs and desires, how on earth are they going to happen? Magically? The dream fairy? Nice, but I don't think so. Here's a few to start me off. Why does this feel so forbidden and scary?

So. Five things I want but never say I want:

New Year's Eve. I want to spend one of the next ones on the Oregon coast. Rental house in Cannon Beach, preferably.

I want to take a class on something I've always deemed "too silly/time consuming/past my prime for" to do, but have always really wanted. (see: archery, private investigating, pottery, salsa dance)

I want a massage. I've never had one. Like a real one. I used to get fake ones all the time from my former best friend, but that isn't what I'm talking about, here.

I want to host a summer party where kids are running around and food is endless and grown ups are chatting and lazing about and life is just...goooood.

I want more spontaneous hugs and kisses from my boys. For absolutely no reason (and reading this would count as "a reason". A-Hem). And love notes.

And a bonus one. I want to learn how to relax. I don't know how to do that without the help of a cabana boy bringing me endless drinks and a white sandy beach. So I really want someone to swoop in and teach me how to truly and well relax. I fear if I could learn that, a lot of my issues would be controllable as well.

(desire, gene loves jezebel)

Cush

2012-01-10T05:31:00.004-07:00

Growing up, we had a couch. I do not remember this couch. I was little when we had it (as seen here):

I do remember the replacement couch, however. It was goldish orangey and flowered and velvet and COMFORTABLE. The best sick couch. But this is not about that. This is about the first couch. While I don't remember the couch, I remember the cushions. Somehow, I adopted them. They were avocado green and a horrible brillo pad material. But stacked and maneuvered in my room, they made the perfect reading nook.

I spent many afternoons there, curled with a book. It was the perfect size to squeeze between my nightstand and chest of drawers, on my side of the bed. I could (and did!) get lost there for hours, until my mom called me to "stop reading already and join the family". It was there, on those cushions, that I scribbled furiously in my journals about this boy or that. Detailing how my life would be, how scared I was that I couldn't imagine past age 30. It was on those cushions I plotted my escape from my home town, daydreamed about college and adulthood and my fabulous life as a writer and later, playing the tapes my sister would send me full of songs I'd never heard but would become part of the fabric of me.

I don't know when I got rid of them. I'm slightly sorry I did. I'm currently looking at window seat options for a couple of rooms and I think that's why my memory of them flared. I'm not certain I would still love them, but I think I would, in all their brillo pad retro glory. But more than the cushions, I want that feeling back; my throne of possibilities. I need a space where my soul is quiet and options unfold. A place to scribble furiously and read for hours. To let music take over my soul and to be free, endlessly looking toward the future. When did I become the person who can't find that space?

(finn brothers, edible flowers)

Things I'm Giving Up

2012-01-09T07:03:00.001-07:00

I've decided I can't be everything. Trying hard to be everything - and be good at it - is one of the reasons I'm paralyzed and only trying and not really doing anything. So I need to give things up, whether real or perceived.

1. My quilt. I'm not finishing it. It was a ridiculous notion to think I could do it to begin with. What I've attempted, which is painfully little, since my mother in law helped, is not good and has been taken out and ignored. I'm not sure what I will do with it, probably give it to someone who CAN use it. We'll see.

2. My writing. Well, not all of it. But the idea of pressure from it. I'm nearing 40. It's not happening. I need to face it. Let it go. Pick up the pieces and if anything is left, fine. If not, fine.

3. My strength. I need to be weak for a little while. Stop smiling and telling everyone I'm fine. Things aren't all fine. And I need to make them fine. But to do that, I need to be weak and ask for help.

4. My timeline. I have a NEED for things to happen at a certain time. My garden isn't done and will most likely be postponed one more year while we sort things. I need to make sure that doesn't make me twitchy and I just let things happen as they happen. It's ok.

I realized something during a particular lowest of low points on Saturday night. I've been holding tight so many things about how things should be that I've left no room for real growth. Change. How things could be. I'm not crafty. I'm not motivated about my writing. I'm too concentrated on fear and what's going to go wrong that I'm not the happiest I could be. I need to find my 'what's next', but in the GOOD way. Not the terrified way. Giving things up is a good thing because only THEN can I have room to figure out the new. Figure out more. Have room for what's next.

(don't let it end this way, johnny hates jazz)

I Like Big Boggle And I Cannot...

2012-01-06T05:05:00.000-07:00

Wanna feel like an idiot? Play Big Boggle with my husband. I'm not used to losing word games, so being beaten by nearly 100 points? Heartbreaking. Truly. One thing I am not is a sore loser (trust me, I've played with sore losers before...) but MAN. This had me sulking. And demanding a rematch. Until the beatings were so fast and furious I may have said I would never play again. Sigh... At one point it felt as if we were playing with completely separate game boards. His loaded to win, mine not so much. I think my mind is turning to mush with the word-things in my old age.

Or I should have married someone more dumb. Clearly, THAT'S it. How many points is "worthless degree"?

(big girl, mika)

Not The Family Friendly Shot We Were Looking For

2012-01-04T05:51:00.001-07:00

Our hospital faces a fairly major road. On the other side of that road is the grocery store I most frequent, next to which is an ice cream shop. The other night, we decided to use some free ice cream coupons and it put us at the shop right at dusk. As we were leaving the parking lot, waiting to turn right, I glanced over at the hospital, the women and children's center facing us. I noticed lights ablaze in a fairly low to the ground room and people. A few people, in fact. And once I looked a little closer, I realized what I was seeing. There was a woman in labor and the unmistakable shot of her partner holding onto a leg while pushing it toward her head, helping to push. And while I could only SEE the partner and the laboring mom's leg (and...sister? friend?) cheering her on, I instantly turned away. I felt so intrusive, even though I was across the street, in my car, clutching my chocolate devotion.

Now, I realize that closing the curtain wasn't high on their list, but I'm thinking that maybe a nurse could have seen the closing in darkness and turned the wrist quickly? Maybe we just caught them on that one second between light and dark that it was open. I don't know. But MAN! It was quite the conversation starter. Which was fueled by Isaac quipping that maybe we could call and let them know we had a great birth video for them, should they want...

(james morrison, you give me something)

New Year. New Word.

2012-01-02T05:32:00.001-07:00

As 2011 is neatly wrapped up and I'm taking final note of my journey in simplicity, I've been prompted...nay, hit over the head, my word for 2012. And it scares me to my core because I'm.Not.Ready.For.It.

It's this. Fear Less. Yes. Technically two words, but can combine to mean even more. This is the year I stop fearing what comes next. It's truly amazing how much of a life I've carved in fear. How much I've maneuvered my life in fear. Fear of the future, of what every little things means, if people like me or not, if I'm doing the right things in my marriage, in parenting, in friendship, in life. And I'm exhausted. I've had so much go on this past year with my body SCREAMING for me to give in and let go and I need to listen. I need to breathe. I need to be fearless and fear less and truly walk this slower path we've carved.

And as always, I have specific goals for this, but have no illusion that it will be the actual journey I take. What I would like to do is this. First, get the entirety of our food storage / emergency preparedness done (12 months to the end of the world people - hee!). That includes fixing our kitchen shelves, redoing Isaac's office closet into more food storage shelves and finding something for under our dining room window. Kind of like this, but more room and with doors. We also need to find a rack for our water barrels and add a couple more while we're at it. I've created a pinterest board just for this and I need to utilize it often. In addition, I want to continue with our financial goals. They are lofty, but doable and feeds in to this fearing less through preparation segment.

The next part is all about believing - that I'm a great writer. That I'm a good mom. That I'm HEALTHY. I need to believe what is true and stop doubting. I hear that OCD is often called the doubting disease and for me, it's really true. I'm tired of doubting. Of second guessing. Of jumping. It needs to stop. I've always doubted. I've always held back, been cautious. But instead of getting better with age, I keep holding back, being cautious. Instead, I want to fully invest in life. I want to be fully present and not second guess. I want to embrace life. I want to tackle my issues and deepen my relationships and live. I am a writer. I am a wife and mother. I am healthy. I am richly blessed. I am loved. I know all of this, but I am scared to let go of the fear. I've lived with a deeply, DEEPLY held belief that if life is TOO good, if you are TOO happy, something bad will happen to temper it. And I've been holding my breath for the next bad thing my entire adult life. Isaac flat out challenged me on that a few weeks ago and any shaky argument I once held for it? I couldn't anymore. It's time. I know it is. I'm way too exhausted and this new path is the only way to rest. Scared little girl or no. Because I hate change. And while I don't feel anything big on the horizon, I know this journey isn't going to be easy. Last year's changes weren't easy, either, but these I'm facing head on instead of having them sneak up as before. So. Here we go.

Happy New Year, everyone.

(overcome, better than ezra)

Year in Pictures

2011-12-30T05:30:00.010-07:00

Our year included...

Festive family dinners:

Legos. LOTS of legos:

Travel. Good travel. With food we still dream about.

And concerts. My favorite time of year is deciding which to include in our summer!

Sammy started school...

...and we figured out a new way of life. Which was pretty awesome.

Here's to a great New Year!

(welcome to paradise, green day)

Top 5 of 2011

2011-12-29T05:30:00.004-07:00

Possibly not new. PROBABLY not new. But these were the soundtrack to my 2011.

1. Mumford and Sons. DEFINITELY my #1 pick. I love them. Swoon, indeed.

2. The Swell Season. And most likely will be for the rest of my life.

3. David Gray. I can't believe I never loved him until this year. Madness, I say.

4. The Kooks. An entire disc full of them spent the first quarter of the year in my car on constant repeat.

5. Def Leppard, et al. I found a resurgent love of all things "hair band" this year. It was deep down inside me and fought its way out this year. Yay!

Reflecting Inward

2011-12-28T05:10:00.001-07:00

This year was...I don't know how to sum it up. Good, I guess. Ordinary may be a better expression, however. And ordinary is definitely not bad. As we barrel toward the end of 2011, I have thoughts coming to me about myself. I become incredibly self aware at this point in the year. Maybe that's normal.

I think a lot of people misread my inward nature as disdain. Or my facial expressions as snobbery. If it was something that happened infrequently, I would just pass it off and ignore, but it happens enough that I must look inward for fault. I want to change that. And I want to find why it happens with some and not others. I know I'm an introvert. I know I don't ask for help. I know that if I truly care about you I rarely face head on what's bothering me about you. All things not great and could easily be better.

Another thing is my reactive-ness. You make me angry? My response is probably not of the calm variety. I find you insufferable? It's terribly hard to get change that opinion. I'm harsh. I know I am. I'm most harsh on Sammy, for better or worse. There is a certain standard he needs to live up to and I fear it's the wrong way to do things. But then again...

I talk too much. I'm too loud. I'm too inward looking and not enough outward seeking. I don't let people in, but once I do, I hold too tightly. These are the thoughts I have as I wrap up my year and have 2012's word rattle about, waiting for me to give it breath. These are things coming about, waiting to be dealt with.

2011 was good. Ordinary. Definitely not bad. 2012, I'm not sure of. I'm hesitant. How long can good and ordinary last?

(found out about you, gin blossoms)

Christmas Wrap Up

2011-12-27T07:34:00.003-07:00

It was a good holiday. Mostly slow. Sometimes a flurry. Just as it should be. On Friday we stumbled into what may become our new tradition. We spent the day in Salt Lake, first eating at Bruges (a must!). It was just as good as ever, Isaac's indigestion later not counting....After a decadent meal, we headed over to Temple Square. Earlier in the week, Sammy and I had made up several bags of goodies (blankets, scarves, hats, gloves, lotion, chap stick, oranges) and walked the streets passing them out to people in need. It was the best way to spend part of our holiday. We were met with grateful hearts and a wonderful lesson for Sammy, not to mention what Isaac and I got out of it. The best part was after we were done, we got in the car and headed toward The Gateway, passing one of the men we gave a package too, already huddled in his new blanket. I burst into tears.

Saturday we had an Eve without a tradition. We spent it playing Sorry and lounging with no real purpose or schedule.

Isaac came home from work early afternoon. Both of us were gobsmacked at the number of people who called in for appointments that day. Which would have been more if Isaac hadn't cut his schedule early. Baffled, people. We grabbed some movies and Chinese take out amid Sammy wondering what game the elves would leave us under the tree. Once home, we scoped out the loot and Sammy went to bed. Isaac and I watched a movie and ate take out and relaxed. Lovely.

Christmas Day was low key. Just the way I love it. And until I get my rental cottage in Canon Beach every Christmas, this one was pretty darn perfect. Sammy was anxious to go down, of course.

And there is nothing like Christmas via a 5 year old. About two weeks ago, he put a package under the tree for Momo (an old jingle ball). He sat and opened it for his stuffed cat and made sure he was busy playing with his gift before we opened most of our presents. Goober kid.

We had decided not to open presents until after church, but...well, 5 year old. By 6:30 am, my living room looked like this (well, without the sun, of course...):

Isn't that a sign of a successful day?

We spent yesterday at my in-laws. I sat for hours and talked to my sister in law Sara and I'm even more convinced that we would be the best of friends if she lived closer. Sammy played, we ate (my mother in law's crab dip is akin to heaven, I swear!) and talked and wished for naps.

Maybe there's something about this no tradition weekend after all.

(weather with you, finn brothers)

Week In Picture

2011-12-23T05:11:00.005-07:00

This week was all about this:

Sammy lost his first tooth. Too bad you can't really tell since the new one is already in...

He asked for the tooth fairy NOT to come, but to trade in the money he would have gotten for legos. Smart kid. No creepy fairy, but legos? Good trade.

(freedom, george michael)

Huh.

2011-12-22T07:04:00.003-07:00

I think blogging consistently through the week does something. While it's not my ENTIRE mood, I think it gives a snapshot of my over-arching mood of the week. And if that's true? My mood this week is GROUCHY. Which is funny, because I don't think I'm really grouchy.

My week has been full of friends (which I need to learn to shut up around, more!) and board games (Isaac trounced us in Sorry last night). Fresh lamb pitas (mmmmmm), Sammy loosing his first tooth (or having it gently yanked from his head), miles of orange sticks eaten, this year's photo books done (only 6 months late!), time to watch guilty British tv and a tiny bit of snow (more, please!). A good week. Sure, there's been annoying things - bad service, someone making a boneheaded decision masked in false fluffiness, my chiro bruising my back during an adjustment, a doctor trying to charge my insurance for a free consultation, a messy house and Isaac busier than I'm used to at this time of year, but overall, it's a very benign week.

We're looking forward to this weekend. We finally have some plans, some of which I hope turn into tradition and some just for fun. Come Sunday I can finally tear into my presents and spend the day reading the books Isaac got me for Christmas. Ooops! I mean *allegedly* got me...Sammy is out of school for a couple of weeks, so no scurrying to school (yay!), Christmas decorations come down in less than a week and I get my house back, not to mention getting to strip Sammy of his Christmas playlist (he now knows the words to every Christmas song EVER made and some I swear that aren't!) and replace them in my mind with real music. So things are good. Really. No, I swear! No matter what my posts seem like.

(absolutely still, bte)

Brand Hog

2011-12-21T05:54:00.004-07:00

I've never been one to follow the trends. I would say it's because we didn't grow up with money, but...I had a little snippets growing up: the odd banana clip collection. Pegging my pants. An awesome back V sweater in a deep emerald green with large hot pink polka dots. It was so very...well, awesome. But the occasional stumbles into trendy were few and far between. Beyond that were the name brands. I had the few pieces of Ocean Pacific. A random Benetton bag. Man. I LOVED that bag. But it was mostly a cry for high school attention more than anything else.

A month or so ago, my sister and I were talking about someone we both know. This person is ALL about name brands, the 'best' of everything and appearances. Which is not how I would like to live my life, but...no skin off, right? We started talking about it, though, because we believe this person actively feels sorry for us for not being the same.

I don't get the obsession over brands. I really never have. Sure, there are brands I love, but they aren't necessarily the "trendy" ones. We buy Subarus because of the environmental and safety ratings. We have a Britax car seat because of the safety rating - not because it's trendy. Other than that, I can't think of anything else. Our clothes are mostly bought on clearance, excepting a few pieces here and there. And, as we've seen when we sold our old house, I usually wimp out of buying even the brands I convince myself I want (I'm looking at you, Kate Spade!). I'm much more focused on quality and comfort and it LOOKING GOOD - no matter where it's from. I often wish I could thrift, which is a quality I admire in my sister and several friends, but my OCD gets in the way. And this is the thing that I believe this person chooses not to understand. That we actively choose this for our lives - not to be obsessed with the latest and greatest. As much as it's a choice for them to be appearance obsessed. I've heard a lot of things from them that makes me shake my head and realize that they believe we're less than. That if we could only see the light, we'd be just as they are.

I do not want a life where I chase the latest and greatest. I don't want a kid who has to have a certain thing to make his life worth living. I don't want the debt - emotionally and financially - that comes with being appearance obsessed. I choose this life for a reason and it's because I believe it will bring me much more peace and happiness. I want to be loved for me, not for things. I want to have friends that are solid and not superficial.

I don't get being brand obsessed. I don't get putting SO MUCH emphasis on the 'correct' appearance. Whatever that may be, since it seems so subjective. And I really don't understand bringing up your kids with the example of looking down on others who don't 'look right' or have the 'right' things. Why not stop that and be kind and gracious and LOVELY instead? Because people who are appearance and brand obsessed are rarely lovely people, I've found.

(desperately wanting, better than ezra)

Simplicity. Part The Wrap Up

2011-12-20T05:36:00.002-07:00

I said my word took me unexpected places this year. The possessions thing was expected, honestly. I can see the logical flow of that conclusion. What I didn't expect, however, was the shift to my core and the change of thinking.

I set a couple of silent goals for this year. One was writing on this blog every M-F and the other was my week in pictures. Adding MORE seems a little counterproductive to simplicity, but for me it was all about writing and picture taking as a pathway to discovering who I really am and what I really hold dear. And I won't lie. It was TOUGH. Sometimes I was in a bad mood. Sometimes I felt repetitive. Most times I had to remind myself at the last second that I needed to look at life through the lens, more. Sometimes I simply blew it. But, I think it was ultimately good. I remembered that I can write and write daily. I had a lot of failed writing ventures, but even those taught me that I CAN do it, I just needed to make it a priority. But it also taught me that if I DON'T write, my world won't end. And for the first time in 37 years, I was ok with that. Which was very unexpected.

The most unexpected gift this year gave me, however, was the gift of truly growing up. I've feared it for so long - refused to think about it and railed again and again how horrible the prospect sounded. I shed ALL of that baggage this year and I feel more alive and well and centered than ever. I know who I am and I don't know why I fought convention or "grown-upedness" so long. I see people I know who fight against who they are, desperately wanting to be non-conformist until they die and I just want to tell them to relax. Be yourself! If some of you overlaps convention, embrace it. If some doesn't, embrace it. But you owe it to your life to figure it out. Simplicity comes so very naturally when you do.

I've shed expectations and people. I've become more calm, more knowing, more aware. I've embraced my LIFE - the good, the bad, the ugly. It may not be what I dreamed when I was 22, but it's mine and in some ways so much more rich than I expected. I can't believe how much more peace I feel this year than last. And I fully believe it's due to purposely slowing and shedding the notion that "warp speed busy" is the only acceptable speed for women. I have miles to go with this, I know I do, but I feel good with this path. For the first time in a LONG time, I feel at home on this path.

Meaningful. Simple. Purposeful. Rich. I opened my heart and let simplicity in. It was good. It was needed. It still IS.

(china in your hand, t'pau)

On Santa

2011-12-19T05:06:00.005-07:00

Let's talk Christmas elves and the lying of Santa, shall we? I'm certain this MAY go down in history as my most controversial post and I think I can take it. I think.

When I was pregnant with Sammy, I noticed a trend that I had never noticed before. Before me was a host of mommies that felt deep guilt over the Santa myth. They couldn't believe they were lying to their kids and felt a lot of betrayal from their parents lying to them. At first, I brushed it aside and thought it silly. But then I noticed it more and more. And more. And, uh, more. And it hasn't stopped. And, given what I know about me, I feel I *should* be the same. But I'm not. I don't get the guilt. I don't get the "lying". At all. And I'm trying to figure out why.

Growing up, Christmas was a big deal. We never got things we needed; it was all about the wants. We weren't rich growing up, but Christmas was all about dreaming (Sears catalogs!) and hoping and wishing. I don't remember ever really being disappointed. Well, except for the fact that I asked for a locking cash box every year and never got one until a few years ago when Isaac took pity on me. But I digress...My point is that I don't know WHY I think this way, but we don't make a huge deal out of Santa. Sammy knows that the mall versions are helpers and not the real one. We NEVER tell him that Santa won't come if he's naughty (because I just think that's cheap emotional manipulation of your kid...I know of VERY few parents who would actually follow through on that threat). The focus is on the anticipation and giving to others. I rarely bring Santa up independently and maybe that's what is different in our house? I know of homes where the focus is ALL on Santa. Santa is the center of everything and I think that is just as wrong as telling your kid Santa is a lie. I truly believe that the middle ground is where the hope lies.

Yes, I know the real meaning of Christmas. My kid knows the real meaning of Christmas. But I also don't believe that Santa takes away from that in any way. In the real Santa story, service is paramount. And I believe, while the birth of Christ is being celebrated, a great way to celebrate that is through service to others. So while we get presents from Santa, we also try to focus on giving to others so when that time inevitably comes when Sammy know longer believes, we have a solid foundation to build on, telling him the true Santa story and why we give. That said...Sammy is completely excited for Santa. But I think he's most excited for the presents under the tree. We just don't...we don't focus on it. Sammy talks of Christmas, he's clearly anticipating Christmas, but we don't whip him up into a frenzy about it. He knows that life still goes on. He knows that he can be excited and can't wait to see his presents and talk about what they might be, but his list of wants is small and he'll be thrilled with whatever comes his way. We aren't a family that focuses on the latest and greatest (I don't even know what the trendy toys are and toys with batteries are banned from all but grandparents!) and Saturday, Sammy told me that he didn't care if it was little or medium or big, he would be happy just to get any legos from Santa (the man next to us clearly smiling at Sammy's declaration).

Now - elf shelves. I don't MIND them. I actually nearly got one before, when Sammy was a baby and it wasn't this huge "thing" it is now. But this year, I've been alerted to this, um, cult? of people who have taken this elf thing to whole new heights. It's a little creepy. And now, well, I'm really glad I never got one. Because as the years go on, I realize that it doesn't fit into what I believe, as mentioned above (the whole emotional manipulation, which, YES, I realize that you can play up the fun aspect and not the "he's watching you" part!). I know most people DON'T go overboard with their house elf (wait...if I could get DOBBY, maybe I'd change my mind!), but I think those that do really ruined it for me. It seems to me, again, that it takes the focus away from good and focuses on the materialism and greed that I'm trying rid our lives of. Instead of talking about the meaning and focusing on giving, you have an elf. Reminding you of YOUR presents. Which is completely opposite of how I view Santa and his mythology and how we try to 'spin' Christmas. And the elf is keeping the focus on, well, selfishness instead. At least that's how I see it.

Whew. So. How's your Monday?

(song for a winter's night, sarah mclachlan)

Week In Pictures

2011-12-16T05:30:00.008-07:00

I love pulling pictures off Sammy's camera...

Mostly because it reminds me how much my kid loves his cats...

My new Christmas print. So pretty!

Sammy set up his cars. To sell.

Black cherry creams and oranges. I MAY have been living off them for the past week!

Sammy gave his little friend Madeline a card. He received this back.

"From Madeline To Samuel. Thank you for the card. Now I will give you this card." Hee!

Dueling Momos having lunch.

(just got to be, the black keys)

Wave Your Hands In The Air Like You Don't Care

2011-12-15T04:20:00.003-07:00

I have a song for every memory locked in my brain. It's just how I'm wired. Sometimes the song makes complete sense. Others...not so much.

My grandma was a no nonsense woman. I have a lot of memories concerning her: her love of Dallas (the show) and Harlequins (the book). She loved 'sandwich spread' and if I was with her when she ran out, we would go buy more at Piggly Wiggly. The first time I ever heard the phrase "hang him by the short hairs" (which took me a LONG time to understand) was from the lips of my grandma. We would get to spend the night with her most Friday nights, with our animal pillows that zipped and turned into a bag for pjs and toothbrushes and our fun sleeping bags. When we got there, she would make frito pie for dinner and biscuits and gravy (not as well as my mom, but her biscuits were from a CAN...something we never got at home!) the next morning. We would spend hours picking raspberries from her bushes and playing with the box of monogrammed pens with erasers she had (of which I always tried to smuggle some home...my love and hoarding of pens started young!). I now have the quilt that she had on her guest bed - patchwork and full of memories. But the strongest memory is having a little radio in her back bedroom and being introduce to Word Up by Cameo. I don't remember the particulars of why or the getting away with it, because my grandma was a lot of things, but a fan of 80s funk she was not, but every time I think of staying overnight with my grandma and that quilt in her back room, I think of this song.

And in case you were wondering? Yes. I do know every word from memory. Because my brain clearly has nothing better to do...'No romance, no romance, no romance for me...'

(word up, cameo)

Simplicity. Part Two.

2011-12-14T05:34:00.001-07:00

Christmas time in our home is slow. It's always been mostly slow, but for the past two years it's been more deliberately slow. Most presents are purchased before Thanksgiving. We've abandoned Christmas cards in favor of blog or facebook or email mass greetings, if anything. Decorating is simple. Our focus is on the slow and what we love: being together. Everything we do focuses on relaxing and being together. And when I hear tales of stress and worry, I'm grateful for that. I've found that this ties into our search for meaning and experiences over things nicely.

This Christmas, Isaac and I are doing things a little differently. We save all year for Christmas and then usually split the money for presents for one another. I had a tough time coming up with anything I wanted, this year. Same with Isaac. So we pooled our money, a small amount excepted, for something we both wanted and would have purchased anyway. It seemed the smarter, more streamlined thing to do. It wasn't a "thing", but it would be something we always used. I think we are both very happy with the choice made and it seemed especially sweet this year with the word simplicity hanging over all we do.

After that choice, I kept my mind focused on traditions old and new. Things didn't seem to fit with my new outlook. We always go look at lights Christmas Eve, but it's getting more and more tough to a) find a good place to go and b) WANT to go out in the cold. So now we are faced with a Christmas devoid of most tradition. We've stripped back so fully that we are faced with a nearly open canvas of holidays to build on. First...YIKES! Second...EEEEEE! I feel pregnant with possibilities. Dinner out on Christmas Eve? Ice cream? Hot chocolate? Nothing except staying home playing games? Go with the flow every year? We've decided to head to Salt Lake the week of Christmas this year and go to Bruges and do a little window shopping. Maybe that will stick. Maybe heading to Park City, as well. Next year (or the next...) I think we'd like to do NYC at Christmas. It's so up in the air. So...expectant of possibility. This is the time I've been so excited with my word. We've shed stuff to the point of possibility without worrying about expectations. That is true Christmas magic.

(wham!, last christmas)

It's Been Awhile...

2011-12-13T05:23:00.007-07:00

...since I've properly freaked out over my kid, right? How about today? Good for you?

I just signed the papers to keep Sammy at his charter school for next year. I paused MIGHTILY when I wrote "1st grade" down. First grade?! How on earth did that happen? I can't believe that this school year is half over. He seems so much bigger every week, lately. His vocabulary is crazy. His experiences? Crazy. He's completely grown up the past five months and is weathering life so much better than I could have ever expected. We seem to have taught him to roll with the punches fairly well and he's such an even little kid. We've only had the one incident with that girl making him cry which is more than I could have ever hoped for! I love that I still get to walk him to his classroom (even if he sprints off before I have a chance to say bye) and pick him up at his door. I'm starting to freak out that the time for that is probably growing shorter, though it seems his school is a little more lax in that area than some.

On the flip side, I've also been worried about him lately. I fear he may be too clingy for some of his friends. He seems to come home at least once a week with tales of friends telling him he can't play with them and I fear my history is repeating. Everyone seems to love him, but he flits from group to group until he decides he doesn't want to play with them or they decide they don't want him. Is this typical 5 year old behavior or should I really be worried that my son is a social pariah like his mom was in school? I had such hopes over a couple of little boys in the class, but they seem glommed together and Sammy is having a little tougher time breaking in. I'm sure part of that is my reluctance over play dates and raising a kid that is a little less boy and a little more 35 year old. I just don't know how much to intervene, yet. Or at all. Or what to say, if anything. He went marching off to school with a letter he wrote (another sign he's mine! Oh, with the embarrassing letters!) to one little boy "so that he will like me again". Sigh. I already acknowledge I'm the hovering mom (which I'm fine with!), but I do try to strike a balance between appropriate and crazy hovering, you know? The line, lately, though, is blurring. So very blurrily...

(it's been awhile, staind)

Things

2011-12-12T05:18:00.003-07:00

I have not had 'time' to sit down and blog about my intended topics. Ok. That's not entirely true. I have the time, but my attention seems to be diverted every time I begin; by next year's New York trip, nervousness over next year's word (I'm hyperventilating already!), wrapping up all manner of year end things, personal life hiccups that are exhausting me, etc. So, instead, you get rambling. For now. Sorry.

I've been helping my sister set up her new etsy shop, which should be live by the new year. I finished her business cards yesterday and they turned out really cute, if I do say so myself. Now I need to work on pictures and words for both her shop and her husband's.

We signed up for a hulu plus trial and I can't figure out if it's worth it or not. I'm leaning toward no, but certainly that can't be right, right? I'm hopeful we can get caught up on Justified before the new season starts and then just be able to stream it. *fingers crossed* That is, if I can figure it out...

I'm old.

I'm also grouchy.

We had a member of our church congregation pass away last week. He was a funny guy. Very sexist as only someone that old can be, but always lovely to talk to. We'd often run into him at the farmer's market during the summer and he was always funny and kind. I've never known someone who loved their wife as much as he and I'm happy thinking they are finally reunited after 10 years. And, well, that puts us only a handful of people away from being the oldest people in the congregation. I wish I were kidding.

My neck therapy seems to be working. On my neck. It's making my shoulder and pit super sore, though, that I'm beginning to be a bit annoyed that I've traded one thing for another. Isaac believes it'll go away with a little time and exercise, but I'm impatient.

Sigh...I'm not in the lightest of moods lately. I need to shed about 10 tons of worry and concern. And learn how to relax. I just DO NOT know how to do that. Shouldn't there be some class upon graduating to adulthood that covers relaxing? Because I clearly need it. And the one to learn to be jolly...

(dog's eye view, everything falls apart)

Week In Pictures

2011-12-09T05:39:00.014-07:00

Sammy, helping Daddy put up the tree:

Winter Wonderland:

This year's Christmas book:

Sammy's fun with legos:

Poor Woody...

My son is pretty darn talented...

Yay! The tree!

(david gray, you're the world to me)

Tiger Mother

2011-12-07T05:14:00.006-07:00

We read Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother last month for book club. I've been putting off writing about it because I'm not sure how I felt about it. Here we go...

Overall, I loved the book. Which is surprising. I went in with a complete preconceived notion of how I was going to feel and, quite frankly, was surprised to come out the other side feeling opposite. I did not always love her parenting. In fact, I often hated her parenting, but I loved her forthrightness. I think that not enough people say what is on their mind and clear the air when needed. So that aspect? I totally got behind. Say what you mean, don't be passive aggressive and clear the air when you need to.

However...there was a side of her I didn't love. She was...mean to her kids. Sure, she mostly got results, but can't you get results without calling names? By showing humanity? By loving more, better, differently?

But then I look at Sammy. Am I not getting the most out of him? Should we be more strict? In a lot of ways I think we could be. In a lot of ways, maybe we are too soft; asking if he's ok emotionally. But then...I don't know. I WANT him to be ok emotionally. I WANT him to think he can take on the world and win.

I'm not sure which course is correct. I'm not sure that we are doing him a disservice in any way and I'm not sure that changing things would be better. I ended the book really feeling for her. I think she had regrets at the end, but I don't know if that would be different for any parent. I'm beginning to think that regret is part and parcel of parenting.

I have a lot of ideas after reading this book. I am rethinking parenting and it's many options. But I'm as yet unsure if I should implement any of them or if the author was completely off base and should be dismissed. I'm still pondering...

(someday, glass tiger)

Rambles...

2011-12-06T04:24:00.001-07:00

I have so much in my head and I fear there is no room inside for anything else. I need an entire day to just write everything down and a second day to just get everything done. Too bad it doesn't really work that way!

My friend posted on facebook that she didn't like chocolate oranges. That concept is so foreign to me. I'm fairly certain I could survive on them.

I love Pinterest. I now need to remember to actually REFERENCE Pinterest when I'm looking for something. In related news: I hooked Isaac on Pinterest. I don't know how to feel about this.

Sammy has completely outgrown all of his pants that I bought him in September. Why can you buy husky and slim little boy pants but not tall? ALL of his pants, minus his skinny jeans, are above his ankle. And I just had to order him a new pair of boots given that he was coming home with an indention in his heel from his old pair. I need him to stop growing!

Isaac's watching Brian Regan in the back ground. It's making my thoughts all jumbled and it's tough to type through the laughter.

If you had told me 10 years ago that these are the types of articles I would not only be reading, but reading and LOVING? I would have called you a liar. As it is, go. Read. Fascinating.

How much do I wish I were in NYC right now? SO MUCH.

(when your mind's made up, swell season)

Simplicity. Part One.

2011-12-05T05:43:00.002-07:00

I started word of the year a couple of years ago as my way of bucking the "resolution" train. I didn't expect to start holding the tradition so very dear. I didn't expect to keep going with it and loving it as much as I do. And I certainly didn't expect living with a certain word in my mind all year to take on such life of its own. But I do and it has. I learn so much in the 12 months having a word to guide me. Surprising things. Simple things. And this year was no different. I chose simplicity for a very simple reason. After my year of abundance, I wanted slow. I wanted to uncover my core and find out, at 37, who I really was. And, just like the year previous, I got that and much more in addition.

I started the year devouring minimalist blogs and learning as much as I could about that lifestyle. So much about it appealed to me at the time. Still does, to an extent. However, reading helped me focus on what I really wanted. While I have no desire to whittle my possessions to the bare minimum, I did want to eliminate everything unnecessary. While I didn't want Isaac to quit his job, I wanted to engineer a life that included travel and time together and an emphasis on experiences instead of stuff. It was good to see what I truly valued.

By mid year, I started noticing a shift in my thinking. It's not possessions. It's how you think of your possessions. Don't let them hold you back. Don't let them suffocate you. Don't let them control any part of your thinking. Use them to enhance your life and it doesn't matter if you own 333 things or a million, if you love and need them. What you will have is a rich life with things to make it more rich. Which is how it should be.

(breathe, midge ure)

Reading Meme

2011-12-02T05:00:00.002-07:00

I thought a little insight to my soul would be a lovely change of pace to distract you from the fact that I keep forgetting to charge my camera battery and skip week in pictures. Ahem. Anyway. A meme! From...everywhere, but here's where I decided to bite the bullet.

1) What author do you own the most books by?
Probably Jane Green. Unless you count each of Shakespeare's plays separately.

2) What book do you own the most copies of?
Tender is the Night by F.Scott Fitzgerald? I think I may have three copies of it.

3) Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions?
No. But it probably should have.

4) What fictional character are you secretly in love with?
Sidney Carton from A Tale of Two Cities, but that isn't really "secretly"...

5) What book have you read the most times in your life (excluding picture books read to children; i.e., Goodnight Moon does not count)?
Little Women

6) What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?
Little Women

7) What is the worst book you’ve read in the past year?
Um...Alice I Have Been ranks up there somewhere, but probably not the WORST.

9) If you could force everyone to read one book, what would it be?
The Great Gatsby, hands down. But only if I could also make everyone love it.

10) Who deserves to win the next Nobel Prize for Literature?
Me? Hahahahahahahahaha...I'm so funny.

11) What book would you most like to see made into a movie?
Definitely excited for The Hunger Games, but that's a given. Um...I'm cautiously excited for the new Great Gatsby. And I really wish they would do Love is a Mix Tape, but I'm sincerely at a loss at what it would look like. I don't think it would ever transfer to film.

12) What book would you least like to see made into a movie?
Can I retroactively say Twilight?

13) Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.
Oh MAN. I always have weird dreams, but none I could coherently describe now.

14) What is the most lowbrow book you’ve read as an adult?
Ha! Anything by Nicholas Sparks. Which I think is only one book. But I hear they're all the same.

15) What is the most difficult book you’ve ever read?
The Complete Works of Shakespeare.

16) What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you’ve seen?
Seen? Nothing obscure, there. Though there's a few I wouldn't MIND seeing. Preferably in Central Park.

17) Do you prefer the French or the Russians?
Have I ever read anything by a Russian?

18) Roth or Updike?
Updike

19) David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?
Neither? Though I would choose Sedaris if I HAD to. But only if I had to.

20) Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?
Shakespeare, though I have a soft spot for Chaucer

21) Austen or Eliot?
Austen (however...Eliot? T.S.? George? Why not Austen or Bronte? That seems a more logical question...)

22) What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?
See answer to #17

23) What is your favorite novel?
The Great Gatsby

24) Play?
The Taming of the Shrew

25) Poem?
Um...Oh! Actually I've been reading through the love poems of Pablo Neruda and some of them are quite lovely.

26) Essay?
Anything by Ayelet Waldman. Seriously.

27) Short story?
Brady Udall has a book of short stories that I love very much.

28) Work of nonfiction?
The Happiness Project

29) Who is your favorite writer?
Fitzgerald and Jane Green (just keeping it real!)

30) Who is the most overrated writer alive today?
Stephenie Meyer. Ok. Maybe not. OH! David Sedaris. I don't get the love.

31) What is your desert island book?
My nook?

32) And … what are you reading right now?
I just finished Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother and I'm also reading The Last Letter from Your Lover

(tell me what we're gonna do now, joss stone)

The Ebb and The Flow

2011-12-01T04:58:00.000-07:00

(via pinterest here)

I've been thinking of friends, lately. Probably because they have been my lifeline more than once and my sanity this year.

I've mentioned before that in college I made two friends. They are my life long best of friends. When I married and moved away, I struggled to make that type of friend again. I oft lamented (here, even!) that maybe those types of friends were a special college only thing and the older you got, the more difficult it became to find those "drop by for hot chocolate and a chat" kind of friends. And I don't think I'm entirely wrong. With schedules and families and to do's a mile long, it IS tough to have that insta-bonding and carefree time you had in college.

I've tried to become close to a LOT of people in the past 15 years with varying degrees of friendship and success. I had resigned myself to a lot of 'good' friendships and a LOT of great acquaintances, but none I would call in the middle of the night to cry with should the worst happen. Until recently.

I've written that I've found myself in a very unexpected friendship this year and it's true. Against all odds, I find myself with not one, but two of the 'drop by and chat / middle of the night the worst is happening' kind of friends. And it wasn't until a chat with one of them last week that I really, honestly let myself believe that these women are here to stay. Permanently. That we'll be laughing and telling stories while sipping hot chocolate when we're 80. That we will be, no we ARE ALREADY, the kind of friends I thought I was too old to find. That came along once in a lifetime and my lifetime quota had been met. But no. I'm not. And it wasn't. And I will forever be grateful. Because there is nothing in this life like a couple of best girlfriends to see you through. To keep you sane and grounded. To stand by your side or to weep with you. I'm so blessed and I know it. And I firmly blame them for my recent softening around the edges and bursting heart.

But I'm not really complaining.

(guns n roses, welcome to the jungle)

There Is Ugly All Around

2011-11-30T05:52:00.005-07:00

I'm sitting here heart sick. Some days I feel I'm surrounded by ugly behavior, many I'm related to, many I am not. And most days I feel the only sane one in a sea of crazy. Which, given my own set of crazy is saying something. I know how people get here, but I'm saddened when they do. By the parent who thinks teasing to the point of meanness and tears is appropriate. By the siblings who poke and poke and poke to the point of unfunny and abuse. By the people I've known forever who lets life turn them and rear the true colors of contempt and ugly. By those who know better but fail to do better.

I feel this year has been such a year of growing up for me. I've crossed some threshold of tolerance for the crazy in my life. I've spent time lately shedding the excess from facebook and twitter and blogs. I've hidden those I can't outright delete. I've deleted those I can. I've tried to employ the same "only those things of beauty or those I need" rule to the people I let into my life. Why do I waste time on people - related or not - that don't make me feel my best - more alive - better? That don't feel the need to elevate themselves to the plane they could be on...should be on? I already feel lighter. I already feel better. My feeds aren't clogged with the negative and the juvenile. With the passive aggressive and nit-picking. It's filled with those who are wanted and needed.

I'm old enough to know better, so I try to do better. I don't tease to the point of tears. I don't cloak barbs with false sincerity. I try to be elevated in word and thought. I don't always make it and I'm CERTAINLY a work in progress, but I'm trying. And this year I've come to realize that simplicity isn't something held for possessions only. Simplicity is a way of life in possession, in thought, in relationships. Ugly behavior isn't accepted in my life anymore. I have no need nor time for it. Life is fleeting and good. I don't want to sully it anymore than I have to.

(no stars, figures on a beach)

Update...Because Once I START Talking Fibro...

2011-11-29T04:19:00.003-07:00

We will NOT be going back to the doctor that 'treats' fibro. The entire time it felt as though we were being sold a crappy condo in Bermuda. He had a lot of points that resonated, but his set up screamed "scam-ish". It was a set 12 or 17 week program, with no variation for individuality and it was around $5000 upfront, with no refund should the program not work. So...armed with that and a little more, we went home and Isaac did a lot of research.

A lot of his theories seemed sound. Some of them a little more than sound. Some sounded a little off. And so we talked. A lot. About all of it. And by the time the weekend was over, we'd decided to cancel our follow up consult and leave it. We also decided that regular appointments with my chiropractor and maybe some time with a physical therapist or strength training along with Isaac would do just as much as the other doctor's $5000 may or may not work treatment would.

I talked to my chiro, got his take on things and we made a plan. I started yesterday. Hopefully this will help get my neck back in order and started on the road to MEANINGFUL help. Fingers crossed, anyway. A little.

(journey, separate ways...this is for you Lacy! :)

Four Down...

2011-11-28T05:57:00.003-07:00

This year was our fourth Thanksgiving back in Utah. Which means it was our fourth annual "day o' Thanksgiving" with my sister. Thanksgiving is one of those absolutely perfect days of the year. Not a lot can mess it up. Our tradition is simple: comfy clothes, only food that is requested makes an appearance, I buy the turkey and my sister cooks it, games are played, movies are watched and a lot of laughing ensues.

Thursday was no different. Other than a misstep with my dill dip, the food was lovely. Even if I did end up buying a 27 pound turkey that my sister may or may not have had to wrestle into her oven. But, oh! OH! What a turkey. We decided to splurge on a free range organic heritage turkey raised in the hills above our town. I wondered if it would be worth it and, remembering I don't love turkey, I would say completely yes. Worth every penny. That was a really good turkey. A little smaller next year, perhaps, but I think we'll go the heritage route again.

The rest of the day was spent playing games with my brother and his girlfriend and my nephew and his wife, watching a movie and noshing the evening away. I think everyone left fat and happy, anyway. It was a really good day. I wouldn't change our little tradition for anything. It's simply, absolutely, my favorite day. Every year.

One 'funny' moment - I kept pestering Sammy to eat his (raw) broccoli and he kept telling me that it hurt his bottom teeth every time he tried. So me, being the STELLAR parent I am, told him to suck it up and eat it anyway because that meant that he's too soft and needed to toughen up his teeth. The next day Isaac mentioned that he had a new tooth coming in. Whoops! Guess I now know why it hurt for him to bite down on broccoli on that particular bottom tooth...Wiggling has commenced!

Do you know how much "or if you're a monkey hum" gets stuck in your head? No? Here...try it out. Since it's all I've heard for three days straight and I'm in the mood to share!

Thanksgiving Week Random

2011-11-21T05:02:00.004-07:00

1. Why does every character named Tanya in movies and tv seem to be either a horrible, horrible person or an airhead?

2. My NYC girls trip is in 6 months. Too soon to start a paper chain? Because I CAN.NOT.WAIT. A weekend without my kid. Holy cow. It's been a week and I may wish it were sooner. A lot sooner.

3. My doctor's appointment Friday was...thought provoking. I think, in the end, we aren't going to go through that program, but it's opened up some research and we may do something similar. Hope is flickering still, albeit slightly.

4. I found more things via this research that are linked to fibro. We can now completely count on EVERYTHING I have or feel back to it. Fabulous.

5. We started streaming Netflix this week. Finally. After two years of not having real internet. Thanks to Sammy the barking seal, we've more than gotten our money out of it this month. Veggie Tales, Shaun the Sheep, Pink Panther, Cat in the Hat...Sammy told me how much he loved being sick because "I get to watch A LOT of tv". Now I need to start figuring out stuff for ME to put in our queue.

6. In that vein...how do you keep an energetic 5 year old RESTING? I would kill for 1/2 his sick energy. Seriously.

7. Four more days to the best day of the year.

8. We taught Sammy how to play Crazy 8s, Old Maid and Mancala. So fun.

9. Did I mention NY? 6 months? Yes? Hmmmmm.

(so cruel, depeche mode)

Hope Stepping Forward

2011-11-18T07:43:00.002-07:00

I have a doctor's appointment this morning. With a doctor who specializes in treating fibro. It was a moment of weakness that I made the appointment and I regretted it almost immediately. Before I knew what was happening, he called and booked me for this morning. After mentioning he knew my brother in law, which made me want to run and hide (can I not just be anonymous for this?!).

I'm scared it won't really work and I'll get my hopes up. And considering the assumed cost, it's a big concern. But more than the cost, I'm terrified. I've been dealing with this for nearly 15 years. Every time a new symptom crops up, I go right to the worst case - something I could die from. Because even though I know that isn't the case, I still hope, kind of, not really, that it IS something different. Curable. Because I am ill equipped to process another round of "won't kill you, but wholly annoying". This week, in researching this doctor, I found that OCD and anxiety are symptoms of fibro and looking back through when my fibro manifested and my anxiety and OCD really started, I'm thinking yeah. That's about right. And I never knew that. I've been mentally blocked from calling a therapist for nearly a year. Something kept stopping me and now I'm wondering if this is why, but that is admitting hope and I can't do that.

Beyond the pain, that is the part I'm not ready to hope for. A change in my anxiety and OCD? Really? I feel that is too much to hope for, yet everything I've read about this says it's what I should expect. I don't remember how to function without anxiety ever present. Granted it's not usually the kind that has me hyperventilating in the shower, but sometimes it IS. And I go through my days dealing with it.

"Measurable relief for fibro, especially in someone as young as you are"...his words ring in my ear as I get ready to go meet him, my hope cautious and skeptical. I'm afraid it's already up too high, waiting to be dashed.

(the finn brothers, won't give in)

Only

2011-11-17T04:18:00.003-07:00

I've been thinking of Sammy as an only lately, as my friend contemplates this same possible road in her future. And not as an only in the emotional sense, but the practicalities of it. The first couple of years of Sammy's life I immersed myself in all things only. I read books, articles, joined forums, talked to acquaintances with onlys...everything I could think of. And while I've relaxed and stopped the intensity, I think I have learned a few things.

One being that parenting an only is pretty much like parenting any kid. Each kid is different, so even if you have more than one, it's not necessarily going to be the same time to time.

When Sammy asks for a sibling, well...a kid with siblings already can still fall into that trap - asking for another sibling, a different sibling...biology does not always equal love and best friends.

95% is just...parenting. Whether you have a 'typical' only or not is really up to you. Discipline, 'stuff', whatever. After the first blush of thinking you have to do everything so differently, you relax and realize that's wrong. You can't hold off doing things. You can't not get something. You can't alter plans or how you discipline or, well, live, because you have an only.

Some things are different, but not everything. Not even most things. It took awhile to realize that, but I'm slowly coming out of my research mode and parenting by Sammy. Because Sammy is the expert on Sammy. Not the stack of Parenting An Only books I've amassed.

(only you, yaz)

Favorite Word

2011-11-16T04:06:00.001-07:00

One of my favorite words, especially in song, is debauchery. It's just a cool word. I love the sound, the feel, the meaning. It's very primal. David Gray has a song entitled 'Debauchery', which I hadn't heard until I heard it in concert this summer, but has now become a favorite. However, my favorite example of the word in song? This.

(but not tonight, depeche mode)

How awesome, right? I love language. So very much.

Things I Do Not Get

2011-11-14T06:26:00.002-07:00

1. Placemats. Um...why?

2. How a headbutt from my kid can hurt so bad 48 hours after the fact. Oh, wait. It may have something to do with the giant bruise around my eye and the swelling in my nostril.

3. How many people were BUGGING the snot out of me yesterday. I had to remove myself from one church class because of it and hid people on facebook. Oi with the poodles, people.

4. How it is the middle of November and Thanksgiving is next week already.

5. That it is two years since we moved into this house and we still don't have DSL. Fingers crossed for today, though.

6. I just saw a girl on the news say if she didn't have her Twilight monthly CLUB, her life would be boring and sad. So.Much.To.Say. They even have bumper stickers and an acronym.

7. Laundry. WHY does it multiple so much?

8, and most tragic. How on earth are all of my kid's pants too short for him, already? Sigh...

(paul weller, uh huh oh yeah)

Week in Pictures

2011-11-11T04:46:00.006-07:00

First snow of the season. Long since gone.

And Sammy. Having SO.MUCH.FUN.

Fun with packing air bags!

Decorating the family room with the solar system.

(david gray, fugitive)

Everyone's Gone Mad

2011-11-10T04:51:00.010-07:00

Tuesday was an odd day for me. REALLY odd. I felt the whole world had gone mad and had to sit on my hands half the day in order not to completely tell everyone how mad they seemed. I mostly did ok.

One of these instances cause me GREAT pause as it surrounded what people actually think of me. Something happened and some who know me seemed surprised when it didn't involve me. It was something I found deeply offensive and just the thought of people thinking of me in conjunction hurt my core and led to an afternoon of soul searching for answers.

I understand, to some degree, the why. I spent my 20s rebelling for the sake of rebellion. Something a little edgy? Sure. Sign me up. Something completely different from the way I was raised? Absolutely! And while the rebellion for rebellion sake has gone away, I still have a healthy dose of questioning. I'm irreverent. I'm loud. I'm opinionated. Things that are convention, I purge and toss and keep what makes sense in my life. But here's the difference. I've grown up. I understand tact. I no longer kick for the sake of kicking. I realize that my past is my past and if I hold on to it as an excuse for every wrong thing in my life, it will eat me alive and not allow me happiness and growth. So, yeah. I get it. Some may see my irreverent streak and think anything goes. Some my see my loudness and think my feelings are irrelevant. But the trick is, not everything goes. Things aren't irrelevant. I've grown up and worked out my life; what is important and what I love. I've realized that not everything conventional is wrong and not everything you grew up with is evil. I grew up. I became aware.

When that was 'over', I turned to another situation involving someone I know who is doing an incredibly bone-headed thing. What do you do when you find out that someone is doing an absolutely unthinkable thing under the guise of righteousness? I mean, other than completely disregard them and anything they say from here on out? I am faced with believing this person is either a selfish coward or a liar. Neither are very pleasant. But it's a) not my place to say anything and b) would be 'put in my place' should this steamy steam of mighty words finds way to someone other than my husband. Or sister. Or best friends. But my sympathy for the situation is completely removed. My view that this person could interpret "the right thing to do" from a hole in the wall? Smashed, probably never to return. Over and over and over again, the little boy cried wolf.

And then, just when I thought the madness had peaked, yesterday I went to pick up Sammy and found him crying. I had never had such a strong urge to smack a 5 year old little girl before. But, oh. Yesterday my momma bear came out and percolated in my head mightily. I was able to check it and comfort my son, but man. Who knew those instincts were so wild and strong? And now I have to tell my son that even though she was WAY MORE WRONG that his part was also not the best choice. And he should apologize for his part. Even when I know in my heart she won't return in kind.

The world has gone mad, I swear. Topsy turvy craziness abounds. I may need a nap.

(band of skulls, i know what i am...um, thanks Sharon!)

Truth

2011-11-09T06:22:00.003-07:00

Last weekend, Isaac asked me why I was always hesitant to tell people what my condition actually is. I gave some lame answer and the question has been in my mind since. Because I DON'T tell people. Very few know and even fewer get to know when I'm actually suffering from it.

I have fibromyalgia. And just saying that makes me sweat. And want to take it back. As if putting it in writing and hitting publish makes it any more true than not. But the truth is I know - even six years post diagnosis - what I think of people who say they have fibro. I think they are lazy and will use the diagnosis as a crutch, getting out of things they don't want to do. I think they are weak. I think they are a little bit full of it. And if I, who HAS this, think this...what will others think of me? And so I tell few and I never complain. I do things that I don't want to do while I'm hurting just to show people that I will not use this disease as a get out of jail free card. I smile through the pain (and OH! the pain is unbearable at times!) to prove that I will absolutely not let this condition rob me of my life. I call it alleged whenever I talk about it because I'm still in denial. I'm still worried that it's a "too easy" diagnosis and if they could JUST look harder, they would come up with something more real. More worthy. Not so humiliating. Something that won't bring pity and skepticism to people's eyes.

I remember standing in line in the grocery store in San Diego, shortly after I was diagnosed. I was just pregnant with the baby we lost and I was tired. Pregnancy made the fibro flare in ways I've blocked. I wanted nothing more than to go home and eat dinner and fall into bed. A woman in front of me in the long line started chatting about this and that and the conversation turned to her not being as independent as she liked because she was bedridden due to her fibro. I was not kind. I rolled my eyes at her and cut her off and said, "yeah, well, I have it too and I think you can work through it if you really want" and looked away. It took me many years to be ashamed, but ashamed I am. I had no compassion. I had no tolerance. I had nothing but disdain. And I think of that reaction every time I tell someone new. I don't want the rolling eyes. I don't want the disdain. I don't want the unbelief that what I'm going through is the most difficult thing in my world, but that is what I gave others. It would serve me right to get it ten fold back.

This is what this boils down to. I have fibro. And I hate it. I ignore it most of the time because I know what to do to keep flares to the minimum and I CAN ignore it most of the time. But that 5% that I cannot, it knocks me to my knees. Like this week. My shoulders and arms started hurting last weekend and still haven't stopped. I can't pick things up. I did laundry yesterday that brought me to tears and an early bed. My house is a disaster because I'm on strict Dr. Isaac orders to rest and get this in check after the time change. My bed isn't the refuge I need it to be until this tide turns. And - here's the kicker - no matter what goes through anyone's head about that last paragraph? It's all still true. And after six years, I think it's time to accept that.

(truth, neil finn)

Top 5 Breathe

2011-11-08T05:11:00.001-07:00

Loud and proud, people. I love Breathe. Always have, still have songs on my car playlist...

1. Does She Love That Man: That's right. Number one. I LOVED this song the first time I heard it (on tape!) and I loved it yesterday morning blasting in my car. It speaks to the melodrama deep in my soul. Bonus! It's a Christmas song in the way Die Hard is a Christmas movie. Totally counts.

2. How Can I Fall: When I would glimpse parts of this video on our covert MTV viewings, it made me ridiculously happy. And spurred a love of vests in me.

3. Hands to Heaven: Once there was a boy named Travis. And a girl named Tawnya. And little 14 year old sparks and a dance. And this song (and, well, Richard Marx, but that's another post for another day...). Didn't everyone love this song? I think so. And if you didn't, I don't want to hear, so shuttie.

4. All This I Should Have Known: This one has endured a little better. Not that I hate any of them, but it regularly finds ways into my current playlists. Swoon!

5. Woman: My kind of cheese.

Bonus: I Hear You're Doing Fine, Say Hello, Without Your Love

Activity for the Young

2011-11-07T03:45:00.002-07:00

Saturday, my friend Lacy and I went to a concert. It's rare that my town gets a decent concert, so we felt compelled to support the fledgling scene. We got to the door about 45 minutes early, to grab a spot in the tiny venue (the headliner is a pretty popular Utah band) and sat and chatted while the place filled. Things to note.

1. It's been a LONG time since I've seen live music in a venue that tiny. A couple hundred people packed into a space about as big as my living / dining room space.
2. We were, without a doubt, on the older side.
3. Somehow we've gone from being hit on by the young'uns to being hit on by the only 50 year old there.
4. I'm too old for headliners that don't come out until 10 pm. Seriously. (Rock...earlier, people!)
5. Fun times were had by us both. But just sitting and talking with Lacy is always fun.
6. I always seem to manage to end up sitting by the couple auditioning for the make-out scene. Sigh...

There were three support bands (gotta love the local musicians!). The first, Mermaid Baby, was...um...he had great hair. Sound-wise, I could almost see me liking random songs. But lyrically? On par with ...I don't know. A junior high creative writing class? They were very pedestrian and too poppy for my liking. Band two was Battleschool. We both liked them MUCH better. A little harder music. Sound lyrics. I wouldn't mind actually exploring and seeing if I like them still in the light of day. Next up was The Moth and The Flame, whom apparently have quite the following in Provo. They weren't bad, though they reminded both Lacy and I of someone else we couldn't quite place. I think the closest we came was a mix of Radiohead and bad Coldplay with a little Beck thrown in. And he seemed a little full of himself, for a local haven't quite made it yet guy. And they may have been the reason both Lacy and I were yawning before Fictionist made it out. They were MELLOW...

Fictionist finally hit the stage just after 10. They sadly came down on the floor (instead of the 'stage') which meant Lacy and were trying to climb on our chairs in skirts to see them. We were the picture of decorum! However, the song and quality difference? AMAZING. You can see why these guys were just signed and the others are still local and working on it. Total difference. And a lot of fun to hear live. I liked them better live than I have with anything I've just heard in snippets here and there. So still not sold as a die-hard fan, but I can definitely appreciate them more, now.

It was a good night. It was a good reminder of my once life and limitations! It was great to spend some time with Lacy, just hanging out. And I definitely wouldn't mind doing it again.

(still reaching, fictionist)

Week in Pictures

2011-11-04T05:23:00.009-06:00

Family at Halloween party 2 of 3. We look cold. Wanna know why? Because it was SO STINKING COLD.

Halloween bracelets. We're just that awesome.

Can you feel the enthusiasm?

We have a wee obsession with neck pillows happening...

Heh.

(please forgive me, david gray)

Lonely

2011-11-03T06:45:00.002-06:00

Sammy: Mommy, I'm lonely when you're downstairs and I'm upstairs.
Me: I'm sorry, bud, but you need to clean up. Daddy will be home soon and you need to go upstairs and clean up. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere.
Sammy, snuggling on my lap: But I'm lonely!
Me: Honey, I'm sorry. Sometimes you're going to be lonely. Sometimes I'm lonely. Sometimes Daddy's lonely. You need to learn how to deal with it because you have us and Momo and you can pray and all of those things can help you when you start to feel lonely.

Sammy then bursts into tears. Not small ones, either, but big, ugly cry sobbing where he can't be consoled and buries his head harder into my chest.

Me: Baby, what's wrong? Why are you crying so hard?
Sammy: Because when you were just talking it made me sad!
Me: What did I say that made you so sad?
Sammy: Everything about being lonely! (Sob, sob, sob)

Oh. Man. You sometimes think, after leaving certain stages, that parenting, while not getting easier, will become more sane. Or logical. But nope. Just like that, nothing makes sense again. Just as you are congratulating yourself for ushering your kid into kidhood and our of toddlerhood, you find yourself rocking your four foot five year old, trying to ease his tears and wondering how on earth you manage this since you are a 37 year old sometimes sad and lonely one yourself.

A half an hour later, dinner is done. Dad has given his two cents and Sammy is snuggled into his bed, asleep, two seconds after his head hits his pillow. And the freak out, at least, makes a little sense, if this stage still does not.

(are you trying to be lonely, paul weller)

Top 5 Can't Help It

2011-11-02T06:07:00.006-06:00

There are certain words that everyday people say in everyday conversation that elicit a certain reaction. Namely? Breaking out into song. Here's the top 5 "words": song. Ready? Go.

1. "It's Tricky": It's Tricky - Run DMC

2. "Silence": Nightmare on My Street - DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince

3. "Stop": Stop - Erasure

Or, depending on the mood...

4. "Do you have a knife (or fork)?": A Knife and A Fork - Information Society...in all reality, this just may be my sister and me.

5. "Lies!": Lies - Thompson Twins

Judgey McJudgerson

2011-11-01T05:22:00.002-06:00

I really do try not to judge. Honestly. People can do whatever they want and I'm fine with it. I figure it doesn't have anything to do with me, so...why? And, well, I know I've been judged: a family member who doesn't like my parenting (which is fine since the feeling is mutual, you know?), or friends who have judged my opinions and experiences and altered relationships because of it. And I hate it. It makes me feel icky. So, unless you have a love of Glenn Beck to the point of tattoo, I really do try not to judge. HOWEVER...

There is this thing that I am unholy judging up one side and down the other. It's something that does not affect me. It's not even that big of a deal - in any realm. It's simply an activity a former friend of mine has decided to engage in and post pictures of for all the world to see. It's not anything illegal or even immoral. It's something I may even do, but definitely not post pictures of. But for some reason this thing stuck in my head and I can't get rid of it. And every time she updates about it, I make sure my friends see it. And I rant. And rave. And have terrible thoughts. And mock. A lot. I'm a terrible, terrible person. Clearly.

I refuse to believe that I'm doing this out of jealousy. But, sadly, it's the only thing that really makes sense. But! Oh, how I wish it was simply the utter ridiculousness of the situation. That would just be so much better. And easier to swallow.

(jealousy, pet shop boys)

I Ain't Afraid of No Ghost. Except. Well...

2011-10-31T05:18:00.006-06:00

I spook easily. I always have. I would hide behind the couch on Sunday nights catching glimpses of Unsolved Mysteries and Murder She Wrote and my mind would run wild, making the solitary trip back to my room (staring at a full length mirror the entire time, of course) even worse. My older brother forced me to watch a movie while I was super young and impressionable (I have no recollection of what it was, other than an early 80s on tv B flick) that had green floating heads appearing in mirrors when people looked at them at night. STILL cannot look at a mirror in the middle of the night, thank you very much! And my school district forced me to watch Watcher In The Woods (the most evil movie known to man) when I was in second grade during a rain day. We all stayed in for lunch recess and packed into a dark cafeteria pit and got the be-somethings scared out of us. I'm pretty sure that wouldn't fly now, for some reason...

So I didn't seek out the scary. Other than my "held at gun points", the first scary movie I saw on my own volition was Happy Birthday To Me, which, looking back, was probably not as much scary as stupid, but to a 6th grader, it was terrifying and that long walk back home from my friend's (and, uh, next door neighbor...) house in BROAD DAYLIGHT was terrifying. I know since then I've seen bits and wholes of Nightmare on Elm Street, Scream and Rosemary's Baby (which may have had something to do with a reluctance to reproduce, now that I think about it...), but that's about it. Considering Icabod Crane can scare me, I don't really seek it out.

Growing up there are a few memories of scare. The 'haunted' abandoned hospital (where I was born). The house a few streets away that I had to walk by every darn day that I SWORE AND STILL SWEAR is haunted. That dip in the road where that guy my junior year died in a car crash (doing 100 while drunk and high and hitting a horse in his car). That doorbell..., retelling the legend of the wailing women with the lights out in the bathroom of my elementary school (DUDE! What was UP with my elementary school?).

The year between my divorce and when Isaac and I got married I was living in Provo. Around Halloween time, I was unknowingly (to me...) dating one of our neighbors (for like two months! Who does that?! Two months, people! Aren't most people married by then in Provo? Man. I was clueless...) ANYWAY...he took me to a haunted house. Which I had NEVER been through before. Three seconds in I begged to leave and we went and played mini golf, instead. Much better use of time, if you ask me! After, we went and sat on my porch talking until the wee hours (again, how could I not know? I may have been secretly betrothed and just not aware!).

We would always have haunted houses at church and school growing up, but I became VERY clever at circumventing them and never actually went through after that one time my church teacher made me stick my hand in a bowl of peeled 'eyeball' grapes. This was the same teacher I dreamed shot me in the back of our church chapel when I was about 11. I blame the grapes, people...

Even with all of this, I love Halloween. I love the parties and the dress up and the decor and the everything. But you'll excuse me if I'm not in a haunted house tonight. After a weekend of festivals, we'll hit one more and then I'll be holed up, partying with my boys watching Monsters vs Aliens Halloween and snuggling in with a jack o'lantern pizza from Papa Murphy's. Best tradition ever, by the way.

(everyday is halloween, ministry)

Week In Pictures

2011-10-28T06:05:00.000-06:00

Family shot at the Pumpkin Walk:

Pumpkin displays:

Sammy the Builder. Notice my sister's eye peeking out from behind his head? Yeah. WOULD NOT DO THE PRESSBOARD CUT OUTS, my son. My sister finally talked him into it, but then he performed the death grip on her!

Sammy, mini-golfing

Getting Sammy's "To Save" box ready:

It's clearly not warm and sunny any more...

(in the absence of sun, duncan sheik)

I Wish

2011-10-27T07:21:00.003-06:00

*I wish I had a dimmer switch for my dreams. Always way too vivid that I have to take a few minutes reorienting myself in the morning.

*Sammy's favorite word is apparently. I kid you not.

*Yesterday was a good mommy day. 5 rounds of Go Fish, tutorial on tissue ghosts, caramel vanilla apple crumble (oh, wait...that goes on the good wife list!), lots of practice reading of those mind numbing learning to read books. I'm beginning to really have a chip on my shoulder concerning Mit and Mat.

*We taught Sammy how to take his own shower this summer in anticipation for school. He fought it at first. Hated them and it was really tough to get him to accept this new normal. Now? Well, now he loves his showers. A little too much. A little like his mama. We have to drag him out every time. When asked what he's been doing in there, his answer usually is "I was just in here dancing under the water". Sigh...

*Sammy went on his first field trip last Monday, complete with bus ride. He got to see a tarantula. He had a great time. He's completely thriving in school.

*I'm in the early stages of planning a girls weekend in New York for sometime in the spring. I'm ridiculously excited. Isaac is sad I'll be in New York without him. I'm thinking we should try to go for our anniversary...

*It was 26* yesterday morning when I went to the store. It made me happy. And I plan on holding on to that until January, when we all know it goes to pot.

(don't let's start, tmbg)

Malaise

2011-10-26T05:33:00.001-06:00

Isaac fell ill last Thursday. Just over a day of ickiness. I had it on Sunday. Giant bricks in my lungs, but not much else. By Monday I was feeling better, started doing better and went about my normal routine. By mid afternoon, I started feeling horrible. Bricks back, hot flashes, feeling light headed and about to puke. It was yucky. And prompted the existence of the puke bowl by my bed all night. Yesterday I was better, but felt off all day - on and off. This is the worst kind of ickiness. The kind with no real sickness, no real definition. It's casting a pallor over everything and I kind of hate it.

But the one thing I kind of love about it, though? Oatmeal for dinner. Snuggling with Sammy. Caramel vanilla steamers. General slowing and unplugging. I don't know what to wish for: more malaise or health.

(would?, alice in chains)

Some Days I Just Want To Give Up

2011-10-25T05:04:00.002-06:00

I had an entire post planned. One full of complaining about our latest Sammy trauma - we're trying to encourage him to pick a different friend than the one he's decided to latch on to, especially since I believe it's beginning to alter his behavior and how stinking difficult it is to help navigate this situation when I'm not there to BE IN CONTROL and how it's resulted in a lot of time outs and crying and "I'm mad at Mommy"s. But then. Well, then. I watched Beautiful Boy. And, while not a stellar movie, it hurt me. And every thing I had to say, every frustration and all of the anger, seemed...I don't know. Pointless, somehow. For now.

The movie is about a family - mom, dad and only child named Sammy (are you with me?). The son has just left for college and is clearly depressed. The parents are contemplating divorce. The next day there is a mass shooting at the college and the parents find out that not only is their child dead, he was the shooter. The rest of the movie is the immediate time right after and the fall out from their son's actions. While the movie could have dug deeper; been more, the fact that their only child's name was Sammy cut me off at the knees. I had such a difficult time focusing on our recent happenings and not putting myself...THERE. Am I doing enough. Am I raising him properly. Am I screwing him up. Is he happy enough. Is he social enough. Is he going to be able to navigate these waters ok.

I push. I pull. I invade. I question. I pace. I'm THERE. Every step. We talk incessantly, in this family. We explore feelings and explain and bring him into conversations. We are happy and mad and focused and crazy and in the end...is that enough to ensure he'll be ok? Is there EVER a way to know? Will he read my writings someday and wonder about himself - if he was truly wanted and loved - or wonder about me as a mother and my failings.

We're having difficulties right now. He's being influenced by people that were not carefully pre-screened by us and there is nothing we can do but hope our teaching and guiding and counsel is enough. Before, when there were outside influences that we didn't want him to be around, we declined invitations. We ignored offers. We chose not to place our child in situations we determined less than what we wanted. But now he's fallen into this friendship that isn't the greatest and while only 5, I want to nip it now, while it's easier. I attest that I have to give up a little control and it's making my parenting erratic. Over compensating and harsh all at once.

I hate that you can't see the ending, the product, of child rearing. It would be nice to just know you were doing ok and you won't be that parent missing the signs so very dramatically.

(desperately wanting, bte)

Good Humor

2011-10-24T05:59:00.002-06:00

My mother has a running list of things we will someday inherit. My list includes pie plates of both my mom and grandma, a white (with red and orange) pyrex bowl, her manual wheat grinder, some odds and ends and her cedar chest. It was THIS cedar chest that was featured in a dream of mine the other night. Behold an email exchange between mom and me the next day:

ME: I had a dream about your / my cedar chest last night. It was odd.
MOM: What was odd about it ?
ME: Mostly that it was alive.
MOM: Well I haven't noticed it dancing or anything.
ME: It mostly lumbered slowly around my house. I THOUGHT I would put it in my bedroom when I got it, but am rethinking it now! ;)
MOM: Maybe by the front door, so it can get out easy...

Ha! Yes, indeed. People wonder where some of us get out dry humor and sarcasm. I give you...my mom.

(humor of the situation, bnl)

Week In Pictures

2011-10-21T04:02:00.012-06:00

**Happy Birthday Mom!**

My desk, mid bills and ledger catch up. In serious need of help.

The colors! The clouds! I'm in love with the view from my front porch!

Isaac has skills, people. Skills we never knew existed.

And then there is Sammy and his arranging skills...

All Together Now...

I may have too many books going at once...

(all together now, the farm)

Sentimental

2011-10-20T05:48:00.006-06:00

I think I'm pretty middle of the road when it comes to sentimentality. I highly (HIGHLY) treasure things that are dear to me, but discard random things with nary a look back. Neither hoarder nor tosser be. Well, most of the time. On the tossing...I think I've mentioned that my very favorite gift from my husband in the 13 years I've known him is the book of F. Scott Fitzgerald short stories he gave me when we were dating. That and a book about Writing in New York. Both were found at a thrift store and cost a grand total of $2. But they are among my prized possessions because of the thought behind them.

I have an old table. It's from The Bombay Company and is nearing 20 years old. I love that table and it's been with me through several moves. It was purchased by my former mother in law, for my ex and I, after the 1994 earthquake in LA. Because of the damage, they were selling off merchandise for extremely cheap and we picked the table up for $15. It's small - a side table - that collapses flat. It was beautiful cherry wood and was the first piece of 'grown up' furniture I had ever owned. Once Isaac and I moved here, the table was placed in the garage. It didn't seem to go with our new furniture nor fit with my current tastes. It's a very traditional style and I had no where to put it. It was placed in the pile of things to sell, but never listed. I just couldn't do it.

About a month ago, Isaac and I were cleaning out the garage for winter. I was arranging things to go to the thrift store and Isaac encouraged me to make a decision about the table. It had been in the garage for two years and I needed to give it up or find a place for it. I unscrewed the top and moved it to the car to take to charity. I put it in and out of the car twice before putting it back in the garage before taking the load away. Later that night, I sent out an email to friends listing some furniture we were selling and added the table to the list with the caveat that I wanted it to have a good home and if whomever that took it ever wanted to get rid of it, to give me first refusal. It was as good as I could give. My sister emailed back, said she wanted a couple of things and said she'd take the table as well, if she could refinish it. I agreed. And she did. And then gave it back to me to use along side my new chaise for books and drinks. She put so much work into it and it looks like a completely different table. I wish I had taken "befores", however, I did find these links to the same table.

And here it is now. Completely redone. And beautiful, with new life.

Gray. Totally. Until...

You flatten it down and the pop of red comes out and it is now it's the perfect companion to my new chaise.

Isn't it beautiful? She managed to salvage something I clearly love and was hesitant to part with, for whatever the reason, and make it useable and loved even more. I can't pinpoint what it is about this little table that makes it so I can't part with it. But I'm grateful to my sister that I don't have to, now.

(fool you are, lloyd cole)

Out of the Blue

2011-10-19T06:03:00.006-06:00

I got a call (unavailable) the other night. I almost didn't pick up, but we were trying to resuscitate my computer and I grabbed it without thinking. Someone asked for "..." and I said they had the wrong number. But instead of saying thanks and hanging up, he persisted. Asked, even though it was a wrong number, did I KNOW "...." at all? I had major pause at the sound of my ex husband's name, but recovered enough to tell him that I did know, but he still had the wrong number. Again, he pushed, did I know how to get in touch with my ex and I told him no. I didn't. I hadn't spoken to him in over a decade and did not know where he was living. He thanked me and hung up.

I cannot TELL you how curious I am. Creditor? Old friend? Long lost uncle from the beyond? How did he get MY number in relation to my ex? Why is he trying to track him down? And, well, again...why did MY number come up, thirteen years post divorce, in looking for him. So curious. SO CURIOUS.

(who can it be now, men at work)

Ok, Ok. I GET It!

2011-10-18T05:37:00.002-06:00

Do you ever feel the universe is SHOUTING at you? Most of the time I do, but it usually involves boots. Or being super nice to my husband. But mostly, well, boots. Lately I'm getting yelled at about my energy and the worry continuum I'm on. Everywhere I turn, or everyone I talk to, seems to have a direct message of "CHILL OUT WOMAN" except way more nice than that.

In the past month, I've had at least 20 separate occasions where I've run into a show or blog post or person and the message is about reclaiming your happiness or figuring out anxiety or serving as a way to lessen stress. After I ran into another blog post yesterday, I wisely turned from my computer and watched The Good Wife. Where I ran into the same message again. I'm completely certain that any other person would not see these (not so) random messages the universe is hurling my way, but man! I get it.

I've been starting to reflect on simplicity (my word of the year, in case you have forgotten, which, um, why would you remember?) and how this current lesson plays into it and I'm thinking this MIGHT be the actual lesson this word has been trying to teach me all year. I'm still processing, but I'm definitely leaning toward that conclusion.

So, universe, you can back off. At least a little, for now. I heard you loud and clear! Curb The Anxiety (what a fun show!) or else. I'll see about that. Soon. Pinky swear.

(is it me, the kooks)

Random McRandom-y

2011-10-17T06:18:00.002-06:00

1. While not this severe, I found my first gray hairs while running out of the house to church on Sunday. I'm assuming it's not REALLY my first, but regular dying has stopped the discovery until now. I handled it AWESOME.

2. I introduced Sammy to The Legend of Sleepy Hallow (the cartoon version, of course) last night while Isaac carved a cat pumpkin. We're so Halloween-y. Well, except for that tub of decorations I've yet to put out.

3. I took a mental health week last week. Did very, very little in my life including showering, cleaning or, well, anything else. Did wonders for my head. I highly recommend it.

4. There was a frog on our porch last week. I'm still having nightmares.

5. I saw a link yesterday to Vera Wang's new wedding dress line. Done in black. I would totally wear one, had I to do it over and actually wanted a dress.

(better than ezra, good)

Week In Pictures

2011-10-14T05:11:00.010-06:00

Hipster Sammy:

Um...

Sammy built this city (on...)for his cars. I love the little wooden New York!

Fresh Hatch green chili from my favorite farmer. Mmmmm....

Early morning fog on the mountains:

And first snow on the mountains:

Sammy was playing solitaire hangman. SOLITAIRE HANGMAN. Complete with the entire alphabet written out to choose from. Oh, my. It was all I could do not to roll on the floor. My favorite? He picked an "I" and "D" first and got a head and eyes on the guy. From his own word. That he picked. Seriously.

IKEA does it again. I'm IN LOVE with my new laptop tray. Perfect. Perfect. Perfection.

Oh, what a feeling. Sammy's dancing on the ceiling.

It's "element"ary...Ha!

(obscurity knocks, trashcan sinatras)

Top 5 Make My Teen Self Swoon

2011-10-13T04:17:00.001-06:00

I could have gone ON and ON. I was so in love with love in my teens. And 80s music was made for that. Clearly!

1. I Melt With You - Modern English

2. Somebody - Depeche Mode

3. Just Like Heaven - The Cure

4. The Promise - When In Rome

5. If You Leave - OMD

The Lights Are On...

2011-10-12T02:52:00.006-06:00

I walked into the store, longer skirt, comfy mary janes, a blouse and cardigan, looking slightly disheveled from the rain. The sales girl bounded over, too perky, and offered assistance and her name while also demanding mine. Strike one.

I tried to walk away, just wanting to browse some sweaters while burning the last few minutes of silence before picking Sammy up. She trailed behind, doing all she could to make a 'connection'. But then. Well, then. She said, "You are dressed so nicely today. Do you have special plans?". Strike two. And possibly three. I'm pretty sure I rolled my eyes at the muppet she was wearing around her neck and walked off. But she followed. Persistent. Using my name and throwing compliments she didn't mean.

If you want my business, woman, fine. I know how to play the game. But don't expect me to become just as perky and fake so you can feel good about your sale. And don't, for the love of everything holy in my life, tell a fastly approaching middle aged woman in mary jane sneakers and a cardigan that she looks 'fancy'. Because if she has a brain, she'll see right through and just think you an idiot. Trust me.

(the man who murdered love, xtc)

When You're Good, Why Fight It?

2011-10-11T04:06:00.003-06:00

Do you know what I'm REALLY good at? Spin. I have an uncanny knack for spin that is, quite frankly, amazing. It started in high school when I realized that context is everything and if you are good at reading context and inference, you can spin an opinion of anything (and WELL!) and come out of it looking witty and intelligent. I've been spinning ever since.

When I got to college, I started in on my career in journalism. A couple of years in, I realized that Public Relations was under the journalism hat and I could, in essence, double major (well, double emphasis in one major...). And we all know what PR consists of, right? That line of classes was a TRIP. It was me doing what I do best. Spinning how I knew to spin ON the topic of spin. I honed my craft, if you will. It was exhilarating.

After college, I felt the pull toward working PR instead of typical journalism. I started doing a little more in politics and was, again, exhilarated. I read all I could about spin doctors and campaign strategists and campaign managers. I found new heroes in Mary Matalin. And I thought how fun it would be, to spin for a living. Sometimes I think I missed my calling in life. Spinning through politics sounds much more fun than spinning my actual real life...

(you spin me round, dead or alive)

Your Mind Is Not Your Own

2011-10-10T05:10:00.001-06:00

I am (or was) reading two books, at the same time, about amnesia. Which was probably not the smartest route to go. So I gave up one to finish the other, which was for book club.

We read Before I Go To Sleep by S.J. Watson. I did not love it. I did not hate it. I was ambivalent about it, which I think is the worst thing to be, when talking about a book.

The premise has this woman waking up every day with no memory - or very little memory, hovering around her childhood. Just writing that sentence bored me into oblivion; I have no love for the main character. It was an amnesia based "Sleeping With the Enemy", broken into three parts. The first part was present day, the second part was a journal portion (which was supposed to help her regain memory) and the last part was back into 'present day'. The journal part was incredibly excruciating. I get that it was written so as we 'felt' her amnesia. But the repetitive nature was awful. And what made me feel total ambivalence toward the main character. By the end of the story, the 'thrilling' conclusion was so contrived, I just wanted to see it end. And I was put out that it insisted I go along this insipid journey only to have everything wrapped up in a very predictable tidy bow. Sigh. Not even surprised by any of it in the least.

I need a good book. I've had a string of not so great ones and I'm anxious to whet my tongue on something good...great. I'm much more hopeful about the other, non book club amnesia book, The Last Letter From Your Lover. And this month is our classic book pick for book club. We're reading The Picture of Dorian Gray. Oscar Wilde is always a good read, no?

(addicted to love, robert palmer)

Top 5 You'll Dance To Anything...

2011-10-06T06:07:00.000-06:00

These never fail to bring to life an impromptu dance party in the kitchen. Every time.

1. Groove Is In The Heart - Dee-Lite

2. Love Today - Mika (except it's usually "Love.Sam.My" around these parts...)

3. The Globe - Big Audio Dynamite

4. Don't Leave Me This Way - The Communards

5. You and Your Heart - Jack Johnson

And despite my best efforts (clearly this is daddy's influence!), Sammy's new favorite song: Jump - Van Halen

Maybe I can convince him this is a better version? Jump - Aztec Camera

These Dreams

2011-10-05T05:59:00.004-06:00

Chalk one up for recurring dreams. A few days ago I had another dream that featured Hugh Jackman and Jennifer Lopez. If you remember the first installment (here) it was bizarre. It didn't change this time.

I was living in a house with some celebrities. I'm not sure who. But Hugh Jackman would flit in and out and was clearly dating Jennifer. Shortly at the beginning of my dream, Hugh broke things off with Jennifer for me. Sweet, no? And clearly flattering. Because while real Hugh is hot, my dream Hugh. SMOKIN' hot. So we're "dating". In this house o' celebrities. With only a curtain for a door. Which was right on Hollywood Boulevard. It was a lovely affair. Truly. Because when I dream of dating celebrities, it has plot and conflict and a clear beginning, middle and end.

Sadly, this end was, well, sad. Hugh dumped me. For some other celebrity we were living with. But I got him back. I threw open the curtain door and let the paparazzi take a bunch of unflattering pictures as I stormed out.

So. You know. There's that...

(dreaming, omd)

And For Me...

2011-10-04T05:04:00.006-06:00

When I was younger, I used to believe that when you fell in love, it would always be life changing. And, well, I guess it is. But it's a different life changing than I anticipated, I guess. More nuance, less frantic. I, like the rest of the world, have been listening to Adele's Someone Like You. And every time I hear it, I think of love: past love, past lust, current love and lust. Friends. Life.

I have two friends that I have known for 20 years. I've known them longer than anyone, save those I grew up with. I know them better than most. They know me as well. We don't get to see one another very often, which makes me sad. But in spite of that, we are still the best of friends. When I think of people whose love has changed me, they are two of the first names that come to mind. I am, simply, a different person than I would have been had I not had them in my life.

I miss them. Lately, I miss them desperately. It's been a year since I've seen either. And I'm beginning to find that completely unacceptable. I will never know two friends like them. Or have someone else fill their place in my life. They are unique as our friendship is unique. And I've been feeling the past few weeks that I need them here. The love I have for these women is deep and I need those who have known me - the good and the bad - around. To ground me and remind me of who I truly am. Of what I truly need in life. Of what is important.

Love has changed me. Whether it was great love affairs or small, deep friendships. I am the person I am due to the shaping of that love. And my friends who shaped me more than nearly anyone, I miss. Terribly. I weep for how far apart we all live. I weep for the visits that are not often enough; could never BE often enough. I weep for our promises of getting together that get messed with due to life. The love is still there, but sometimes you need a touch to go with the knowledge. Visuals to remind you that the love isn't made up. It helps.

This song completely guts me. It's what my stories, both real and imagined, feel like in my mind. The senses evoked are incredible, with amazing imagery. And it speaks to what I'm feeling lately, especially. Whether lovers or friends, people matter. The mark they make on your life. The attempts, scattered or constant, you make to keep those important around and the equal attempt you make to keep those hurtful out. We need people. We need relationships that challenge us and keep us. We need friends and great loves and stories. And right now, it speaks to me of friends. And that is what I currently need. More than anything else.

(someone like you, adele)

Sunrise Sunset

2011-10-03T02:32:00.001-06:00

I was flipping through my newest copy of Sunset magazine (when did I go from subscribing to Lucky to subscribing to Sunset? I'm not sure...) and was surprised to see my town in a full two page spread for a 'Mountain Day Trip'. I saw pictures and read words of things I pass by every day of my life. It was, well, trippy.

My sister is talking of doing a staycation soon with her family - complete with all of the things we are all always too busy to do and once I saw this article, I was reminded of what a great idea that really is. Often I think of 'getting away' and all of the places I'd like to go while completely overlooking the great things we have to do that are close. So I tried to read this article through the eyes of someone who doesn't live here. Of someone who looks to our town as a getaway. Of someone with fresh eyes.

Before it gets cold and miserable, there are things I'd love to do. Every year I start thinking of the things I'd love to do and then my thoughts get derailed by dirty snow and freezing temperatures and January and thoughts of the desert southwest in April. Wait, where was I? Oh, yeah. Great place to live. So I'd like to take advantage, this year. Teach Sammy that winter is still nice and has its own type of fun. Embrace the hot chocolate and sledding and snow man making. The cider and Pumpkin Walk and crunching leaves. The fall colors and the slowing down. A summer fun list for fall and winter. It may be a little more tough to think of so many things to do or want to do in the cold, but, according to a magazine, we live in a great place. I happen to agree and it was a nice reminder.

What are your favorite fall and winter activities? Besides hibernation, because I have that one DOWN.

(sunrise, duran duran)

Week in Pictures

2011-09-30T05:02:00.008-06:00

Ah, fall. Shorts, a hoodie and hot chocolate. How I love thee!

The gaping hole staple incident all covered up. Nice choice of bright red bandage, no? (and, uh, ignore my sad state of feet...end of summer is not kind!)

While we sit and wait for Daddy, Sammy loves hoping on one foot back and forth - he's even made up a little game to go with it. It kind of cracks me up.

My pretty, pretty apple tree. We won't talk about the nectarine tree, though. Dagnabit.

Have I mentioned how much it rocks that my kid can now write?

(mumford and sons, winter winds)

Top 5 Songs That Start With "All"

2011-09-29T04:43:00.002-06:00

1. All Together Now - The Farm

2. All This I Should Have Known - Breathe

3. All I Want - Lightning Seeds

4. All Over Town - The Kooks

5. All I Want Is You - U2

*All I Really Want - Alanis
*All I Am - Crowded House
*All Over You - Live

There Really IS No Place Like Home

2011-09-28T03:30:00.020-06:00

I'm a pretty neurotic mom. I get that. I hover, I remind, I expect. BUT. Because of it, my kid is respectful and kind and cleans up after himself. He asks before doing things or getting things. He's observant of his world and funny as, well, the class clown. Because of our parenting style, I know the trade off is that many of his friend's homes might seem a lot more fun. Fuller, more vibrant. A little more lax. I get that. And it can make me fidgety at times, thinking he may prefer somewhere else over home.

Yesterday, Sammy went home after school with a friend for a play date. Setting aside my "Holy crap, my baby is going home with someone else after school and not in my car" anxiety, my friend told me what they were planning. A picnic at the play ground and homemade play dough (which turned into buttons and those fuzzy craft bendy things...what are those?). She tried to play it down, but...here's the thing. My kid is pretty artsy. We saw his art camp teacher last weekend and she said (and I quote!) "I'm so happy to meet you! Sammy was just one of my favorites to teach. He has such an artistic side and he's so funny! I was always amazed at the things he came up with to say. He wasn't loud, but always funny." And Sammy's 'blessed' with parents who are NOT artsy. At all. So I get a little funny when he's introduced to a very arty house. Not that I think he'll suddenly hate home, exactly, but...just that he'll start to find me lacking earlier than I'm prepared for. See how our little rhythms could be more.

He came home after his play date and told me how much fun he had. They played and ate and were creative and he loved it. And then he said, "It was really loud there. Really loud. And they fought. And kept hurting themselves and crying. And loud. It's not loud here." And then he gave me the biggest hug and told me how much he loved it here because it was calm. I was so happy I nearly burst into tears!

So we may unapologetically love t.v. And, well, you all know how I feel about over-scheduling and 'extras'. Especially since Sammy had his first extra this summer with art camp (if you exclude the tumbling class from hell, which I do...). But we DO have a lot of family time - time together. We laugh and dance and joke. Sammy has learned to be analytical and think things through. He's learned to question everything. He loves to write and has an obsession with notebooks. We cook and run errands and have the tightest group of three. So we may not be arty. We not be super-parents. I may not do crafts, but we laugh and joke and bond.

And I shouldn't discount all of that. We always think that they'll see green grass on the other side, especially in the areas we feel inadequate. It's refreshing to have home as a haven validated. Maybe we're doing something right after all. Yay home!

(lets hear it for the boy, deniece williams)

I Don't Know Much...

2011-09-27T06:20:00.005-06:00

I'm assuming the rest of the world (save Seattle) isn't getting as much news on the disappearance of Susan Powell as we are. And, honestly, I'm trying very desperately NOT to read everything I have available to me on the subject, but it's just SO hard to look away.

Sometimes a story comes along that a) reminds me of why I love journalism and reminds me that anything coming out of my imagination could not be this strange and twisty and b) is so unbelievable I'm gobsmacked it's really happening. Every day, lately, there is something new. It's hard to keep up with all of it. But all of these stories feel differently, this time. All of the pseudo news conferences, the searching, the FIL crazy turn of events and arrest. I feel caught up in a story on the precipice of cracking and I'm helpless against the armchair detectives the entire state have turned in to (Did the FIL kill her? Were the son and father in it together? What else is going to coming out??). It's always under the surface, for everyone I talk with, heads shaking and eyes wide and bewilderment reigning supreme.

Truth getting more and more stranger than fiction every day. I hope it all ends soon.

(crazy for you, madonna)

In The Past

2011-09-26T03:54:00.002-06:00

In the past two days I have:

-Taken a chunk out of my thumb on the tub of my washer
-Massaged a bee that had made its home in my tub of blackberries
-Sent my child to bed without dinner to the tune of "I'm really mad at Mommy"
-Developed a sore throat and wonky sinuses
-Shoved a staple, that was hanging down under my ottoman, under my big toenail, leaving a gaping hole where the flesh should be

I cry uncle.

(everybody hurts, rem)

Week in Pictures

2011-09-23T05:18:00.001-06:00

Sammy and I found some cool fountains while wandering downtown Salt Lake.

There were so many horrid fashion examples to choose from while shopping last weekend. However, I settled on this little number. And I do mean little. And ugly.

Sammy's new cat blanket. Cats + comfy cozy = Sammy's happy place. Large grey cat like mass on the floor? Freaks me out a little.

Sammy took over the camera during lunch with my sister.

And this summed up how bored he was DURING lunch with my sister...

Luckily, he can usually amuse himself!

(rem, man on the moon)

It's Over and Over and Over Again AKA: Tale of Two Issues

2011-09-22T04:55:00.012-06:00

Issue the first: My sister and I were talking (wait...I think it was my sister...) about over-scheduling the other day. I kept thinking about it and I've come to the conclusion that I just.don't.get.it. I don't. Why would you do that to yourself on purpose? Don't we all have ENOUGH to do naturally, especially with kids and kids school, that you start adding more and more unnecessary stuff just seems...crazy. Seriously. We kept things so un-over-scheduled around here and that's what I love. Actual quiet downtime. I know people who thrive on going a mile a minute and playing the "I'm so busy" martyr and I was always the one rolling my eyes. And then I came upon this quote:

"Let's be honest, it's rather easy to be busy. We all can think up a list of tasks that will overwhelm our schedules. Some might even think that their self worth depends on the length of their to do list. The flood the open spaces in their time with lists of meetings and minutiae...even during times of stress and fatigue. Because they unnecessarily complicate their lives, they often feel increased frustration, diminished joy and too little sense of meaning in their lives...It is said that any virute when taken to an extreme can become a vice. Over scheduling our days would certainly qualify for this."
-Dieter F. Uchtdorf, October 2010

And I said....ahhh. Gotcha. My take away? Just say NO, people! It's a lovely, lovely thing. Quiet time.

Issue the second: Why do women assume now that Sammy is in school that I "should babysit!". Why is that the go to? Did it ever occur to them that I have other interests? That I don't feel the need to mother neighborhood kids? I had a woman I just met say that to me yesterday. After I casually mentioned that I was sad Sammy was gone during the day (a topic she brought up) she said, "Maybe you should babysit" and without even thinking, I said, "Why on EARTH would I want to do that? I don't like kids!" and then remembered that I don't really know this woman...But still. Why is that the "go to" answer for when kids are gone all day? Because I have a uterus and couldn't POSSIBLY find anything else to occupy my time? Ugh.

Yeah, I realize I'm most likely overreacting. I get that. But it's so annoying to assume that is your ONE call in life. That any extra time you find yourself having should be immediately filled up with cleaning up after other people's children. I'm not even REALLY sorry that I didn't filter my comment. Her look was priceless and I've never really seen such a talker exit a conversation so quickly, so it wasn't without enjoyment. And, well, I'll assume we won't be becoming the best of buds any time. Clearly...

(it's over, lisa loeb)

Random Randomness

2011-09-21T03:40:00.005-06:00

*Apparently everyone at school calls Sammy, Sam. I knew it would probably happen, but it makes me a little sad and I wonder how long until he's just "Sam" to most.

*I was facebook unfriended by someone last week. I only notice because I was admiring my nice round number of friends the week before and then noticed the dip by one. I checked my list and didn't notice anyone gone (um...) but then noticed I was ALSO deleted by this person on GoodReads. A quick search on FB confirmed she was the one. Take away? I didn't notice she was gone, so CLEARLY we were not the best of buddies. We've never really loved one another and were fb friends of proximity, but once the proximity change, the status did not, so I am a little curious what brought it on. I'm rarely fb controversial. My friend Cheryl suggested they have a defriending questionnaire before you click delete. I think that would be awesome. And for the few times I've unfriended, could have had a little fun before walking away.

*Games and food at my sister's this weekend. Totally excited.

*The Castle premiere rocked. You know, except the 20 minutes it cut out, that is...

*We do ok in the whole foods eating / recycling / using what we have / no chemical cleaning products vein. And JUST when I think we're settling into a comfortable routine, I read something like this. Homemade VINEGAR! Sigh...I'm still such a poser.

*Did I mention T.V. season is back on? Yippee!

*I'm reading two separate books about memory loss. Not only is it trippy, I'm starting to get the stories crossed in my head. Which isn't great since one is a thriller and one is a romance.

*The leaves are starting to change. My apple tree is gorgeous. It's dipping down into the 40s at night. I'm trying to put off pulling out the big guns hot chocolate machine for just a *little* while longer, though. At least until my new go to sweater gets here. It's so pretty! Won't it look lovely, Starbucks cup in hand?

*Some people baffle me. Sometimes I don't get why they make life so darn difficult. Or stupid. That is all.

(certain things are likely, ktp)

Words, Words, Words

2011-09-20T04:22:00.006-06:00

When you grow, leaving behind the choking mistakes of the past, it comes as a shock to the system to suddenly be remembered for them, and not for the ways you battled against them and changed. When are words just words and when do they mean more? When do the words that people lobby against you, but are clearly not how you see yourself, come to reality?

I think of the many people who have come and gone in my life and how I've classified them in my mind: annoying, brash, way too happy, easy, lazy, sarcastic, etc. I'm wondering how many times I've used words against others, in the heat of the moment or with great flippancy.

I often give to homeless people on the street. Call me whatever, but I do. Last Saturday, Sammy and I were walking around Salt Lake and I spotted two homeless men sitting on a wall. I grabbed some cash and handed it to them and fully expected to move on, like I normally do. But something about them stuck with me. I crossed the street and bought some sandwiches and milk and we crossed again and gave them to the men. Sammy happily marched over and passed along the milk and I gave them the sandwiches and a smile and wished them well. But, yet, I couldn't get them out of my mind. Still, days later, I can see their faces and I'm struck again with why they are staying with me. And I wonder what classifications they've dealt with in their young lives: junkie, lazy, dirty, stupid. But for some reason, all I could see was someone's son. As I was explaining to Sammy why we were helping, I felt, very strongly, about how I use words and how words are used against me.

And once again, because it seems I'm always trying to learn this lesson, I vowed to be better. I know first hand how it feels when you are pegged as one thing and no matter the change it's the only thing people see. And how I would have normally seen those men, but for some reason, this time, I didn't. It changed me. In ways that I still don't understand. But words are powerful and maybe they are just waiting for people to see them with new ones.

(words, missing persons)

One Down...

2011-09-19T04:20:00.001-06:00

We have our first sick day. I feel it's some sort of rite of passage.

Sammy started sniffling late Friday night and by Saturday, he was in full blown, red-nosed, cold mode. I dragged him all over on Saturday and by Saturday night, he was one miserable dude. But, like a light bulb slowly turning on, I remembered a new tub of vicks in the closet. This, my friends, is progress. I usually only remember the new tub of vicks in the closet AFTER Sammy's cold is completely over. Only five years! Sheesh. Happily, that made all the difference in the world and he slept so very well.

I'm a little sorry to say that by Sunday night, when I realized that Monday school was a no go, I was a little excited. Because Sammy sick day would definitely equal me actually getting something done. What a fabulous concept. And a spark of the old life. Which I miss. And hopefully by lunch we'll be snuggled into a vapo haze, me reading my creepy new book and he...bugging the snot out of me until I can't wait until he goes back to school. Fingers crossed!

(shake the disease, hooverphonic)

Week in Pictures

2011-09-16T05:23:00.008-06:00

Moving furniture around in the family room. Having that, um, DUH moment on why we didn't do it sooner.
Sewing table as new tv table (with my absolute favorite print on the side):

tv cabinet back to sewing cabinet. better to lock things away and forget about them...

Checking for channels during antennae install '11. So happy we did this.

Um...what Sammy did during antennae install '11. His drawing skills are impeccable.

Sammy. Singing to himself in the mirror while buttoning his church shirt. I laughed for MINUTES, people.

If this boy could have a cozy blanket surgically attached to his body, I swear he would. Yes. The a/c is still on.

Momo. Eating. For the entire 3 hours of church. I'm pretty sure I heard him grumble when we got home.

(pseudo echo, funky town)

And We're A Go!

2011-09-15T04:09:00.008-06:00

For the first time in my entire life (well, minus a year in college I had to share a tv in a lounge, and, uh, any other time that I can't remember right now) I do not have cable. It's weird. I think even when Isaac and I were first married and poorer than snot, we had cable. Because, while some people eat, I drown miserable first years of marriage in tv. It's just who I am.

So. After THIS a couple of months ago, much research happened. And an antennae was purchased. And then delayed due to the company who was SUPPOSED to send it. Once it got here, we hooked it up and made sure we would get channels. When we did, we scheduled the install. That was done last Friday. We canceled the dish on Monday.

Some notes:
-It's really very odd to only have a half dozen channels. Really odd.
-I'm already liking how much more simple it's made our lives. Remarkable.
-We can HOPEFULLY start streaming this weekend, if all goes well. Which will open up things in a big way.
-Things get a little digitized with bad weather, but I'm hoping it'll stay with "just a little".
-No bill. No bill! Oh, my.
-I'm missing the last two episodes of the season of Drop Dead Diva. I'm trying not to weep too badly.

I know it's been a short time and so much could go wrong, but I think this was the right choice. It was such a good move in this year of simplicity. I was feeling that I kept wanting to do something different - to MOVE in a different direction, but I wasn't making any moves to get there. THIS feels like a move to get there. And that feels great.

(the sun always shines on tv, a-ha)

The City Of My Soul

2011-09-14T04:08:00.005-06:00

I was talking to my doctor yesterday, at my annual physical, about travel. She mentioned that she feels each city has its own unique personality and, just like people, some you will clash with and some you will fall in love with and you never know until you try which will be which.

I found myself agreeing wholeheartedly.

I know many people who fall in love with Los Angeles. For me it was a destination where my best friend lives and that is all. Same with Seattle. It's a great city, but does little for me. I would love to try on Chicago someday. Or San Fransisco. I feel they would be great for my soul. The whole of Costa Rica was like a salve on a wound for me and I'm anxious to take Isaac there sometime. I hear it's that way for a lot of people and I would love to feel that salve again. I'm excited to go to Europe and 'try' each of those cities on and see which ones fit. I have my guesses, but sometimes what you guess is wrong. But there is nothing like feeling the skin of a city slip onto you and into you and consume your very soul.

The first city that is like that for me is Portland, of course. It's home to my soul. From the moment I stepped foot into it, I knew I was home. While my belongings and loved ones may be here in Utah, my soul is still firmly in Oregon. The second city is New York. I feel alive there. I feel substantial. I feel accomplished. It's the city in which my creativity and dreams live.

I feel blessed that I have two such cities that speak to my soul, that make me feel...more. Better. Bigger. And while I don't live in either, I can visit. I can remember. I can meditate and breathe them into me when I need to. And I can anxiously await our yearly travels to see if I can uncover more soul cities and teach Sammy to look for the same.

(city song, howard jones)

Non Conformity

2011-09-13T05:53:00.003-06:00

I live in a culture of conformity. Ofttimes this is difficult, as my own personal philosophies are in direct contrast to some of the conformist ways. When in high school, I had a group of friends and we would sit and talk about non conformists, fancying ourselves on the precipice of forging our own trails; where no one had gone before. This could have been done due to being less than popular or due to the follies of youth, but for the most part, I like to think it was the seeds of independence that have grown as I have.

When it was just me, I had an easier time with this. I pushed back just to push. I fought convention where I felt I could and argued just to argue. While much of this was fruitless, I do believe that a lot of it helped form opinions I still hold today. Once I married, I tried to tone it down. I tried to be "better", more adult, more conforming. And found it stifling and untrue. But that growth was good. It taught me tact and decorum. How to hold my tongue. To listen to convention politely and not showing my true feelings all the time. At least most of the time.

The addition of Sammy has once again changed the game. Suddenly things I don't believe in but are very much a part of convention and conformity are staring me in the face. (See: scouts...And I have a few scant years to figure THAT one out.) And I feel my previous grip on my tact and decorum shaky. I'm again fighting against conformity and letting things slip I wouldn't normally say. I feel I am once again in high school algebra, talking about non conformity loud and brash instead of holding quietly to my beliefs and smiling when I have nothing productive to say. Do I let people know that I don't see why wearing pants to church is so taboo and how I long to just...wear some already? When do I start the answer that if my child NEVER participates in scouts, I'd be overjoyed? Do I / should I / when? So many things. I know what I believe in. I know where I stand. And I know it's different than a lot of people that surround me.

All of this to say: at the end, even with what I thought I knew, I still don't really know how much to push. How much to stretch. How vocal to be. So perhaps this is to be my lifelong quest: being true to my non conformist ways while trying to fit in. Wanting to be myself in every way while still be accepted in the group. And it occurs to me that this very want is probably the most conformist want of all humanity. No; that irony is not lost. And I don't really know WHAT I'm saying. Not running with the norm has been a recurring theme of my life and I still only have half formed thoughts on the subject and those half formed thoughts are constantly changing and contradicting and folding in on themselves. It's difficult to not have the right words for this. Even more difficult to feel myself battle against things, if only in my head.

(camouflage, the great commandment)

How School is Going

2011-09-12T04:50:00.005-06:00

Sometimes you have to wait for answers to prayers. To see if the decision you made was a good one or a poor one. And sometimes you do not.

Sammy loves school. He is absolutely flourishing. He's made a couple of friends. He's in love with a girl named Madeline. Her mother seems lovely. Sammy is beginning to write and read and is doing well with the work. He clamors for attention from his teacher. He looks forward to computer time and library time and loves his Spanish teacher, who reads Skippy Jon Jones to them in Spanish and teaches them to sing Itsy Bitsy Spider. He gives his all in PE, sometimes to his own downfall.

I know it's only been a couple of weeks (a week?), but I can already feel that we made the right decision and the fate that brought Sammy's name up in the lottery was the perfect sort of kismet. We just seem to...fit. That's good. I still have my worries and we've already started to argue about doing homework consistently and I may not feel as though I have my footing nor can I figure out how to just be me around the other parents and break in to those circles (I feel I'm channeling Christine most days...but that could be the lack of showering and presence of pajamas at pick up and drop off), but I'm hopeful those are simply part of the adjusting.

Friday morning when I dropped Sammy off, I went a little early to talk to his teacher about a small issue Sammy's having. As I was leaving, I heard Sammy say "Mrs. ____, may I help you put the chairs down from the tables?" instead of running off and playing. I smiled to myself, wished again he could play instead of always working (who DOES that?!) and started toward the car. His room aide caught up to me as I was unlocking my door and said, "I just wanted to tell you what a joy your son is to work with. He's just so...KIND." and, well, I nearly cried on the spot. Ok. Maybe not "nearly". What parent wouldn't love hearing that? You work so diligently at teaching correct principles and worry that your kid really is some sort of a monster and outside validation that he isn't is heart warming. I so appreciated her taking the time to let me know. And was just that nail of confirmation that we did the right thing. This will be ok.

(better to be, liam finn)

Week in Pictures

2011-09-09T04:50:00.003-06:00

What this picture means: no matter how hard you try to push monkeys on your baby, they may still end up liking cats instead. Life lesson there, my friends. Oh, and, well, packing up some baby stuff. Sniff.

Heh. I love this outfit.

Taking down the damaged awning. I'm so sad.

Sammy's stack o' books by his bedside.

(pull my heart away, jack penate)

Warning. Whining Ahead. And Not Even About REAL Problems.

2011-09-08T10:07:00.004-06:00

Kindergarten is KICKING MY BUTT.

Hm. I thought of just leaving that as a post in and of itself, but, no. Let me explain. I often heard moms complain that Kindergarten is difficult to manage because it's just a stupid slot of time to work around and I always thought, "but at least you get three hours to yourself, right?". Luckily, I'm not dumb enough to have said that out loud. Because, OY WITH THE POODLES. It is just enough time to screw up your entire day. Really. Things as easy as scheduling showering and loading the washer become quantum physics problems akin to having a newborn again. And it's worse choosing a school that is farther from your home than necessary because you have to factor in travel time.

Take this morning. It's Thursday, which is bank / bill day at my house. I got up just after 6, did the weeks accounting and finished just in time to shove everyone in the car. Sammy to school, Isaac to work, me to the bank. Picked up a couple of cases of canning jars that were on sale and had an in depth conversation about Def Leppard with the checker (because, I should note, I'm wearing yesterday's Def Leppard shirt, still (see: SHOWERING, QUANTUM PHYSICS)), run to another store to run an errand for Isaac, run to ANOTHER store to score some coveted unmentionables that are always out of stock, and then collapse in Isaac's exam chair at 9:30 because my mind will not slow down. Now I have to weigh the rest of my day. Showering (ha!), freezing 3 dozen ears of corn and 2 pounds of green beans, roasting tomatoes for tonight's soup, making a peach pie for dinner, trying to find my desk. Sigh. And this is a less crazy day since school has started so I MIGHT actually carve 1/2 hour out to read at some point.

I just don't feel on top of anything, lately. I am not a fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl. Isaac is not that kind of boy. We have clearly passed that gene on to Sammy. We are a scheduled, organized household and I think Kindergarten in all its three hour glory is trying to beat it out of us. Well, me. I know a lot of it is September. We have produce GALORE and something has to be done with all of it. I was up to my elbows in canning peaches until seven last night. That will end...sometime. We are entering our slow time for work and that always adds a little stress into life. We are switching over our tv this week to antennae and fall shows start next week (which, I realize, is clearly a 1st world sort of problem, but I really like premiere week, dagnabit!) and I'm worried something is going to happen and its really not going to work. AND we've been told that after two (2!) years of not being able to have a phone line run to our house, we can get DSL next week. I'm not holding my breath, but that will simplify things GREATLY if it actually works. All of this to say that my to do list is long (pages!) and nothing is getting done. I have not written one word since my son has started school and that is the most frustrating part. Especially since I had a lightning bolt of brilliance for a book of short stories the other day and not a second to regurgitate down onto paper. A friend suggested a weekly morning out, yesterday, and it was all I could do not to laugh. Weekly? It hurt my head to try to add that in. At least while I'm flailing. Let me start treading before anything is added on!

I know there is an answer. It lies in me sitting down, with three seconds to think logically and I could find that answer. The schedule that will work for us. I know it. I need to breathe and regroup and figure it out. Because it's not that I don't have the TIME to do everything, it's just that I'm feeling out of routine. Things are getting done, but it's manic and disjointed. I'm just hoping the answer isn't "get through the newborn stage of school" because that just really won't work for me. I don't work well with frenzied energy. I clearly don't work at ALL with frenzied energy. I know my problems are small (well, THESE problems are small), but I hate feeling overwhelmed. I like...whelmed. It's much better.

(how soon is now, the smiths)

Slow Down

2011-09-07T03:27:00.001-06:00

I'm starting to feel the pull of slowing down. Of wrapping up and closing my house, snuggling into winter. The air is turning crisp, slowly. The breeze, while the same temperature as just weeks ago, feels differently, chilling me deeply while before it cooled the warmth of my skin. I'm feeling the oddness of flip flops on my feet and have started gravitating toward covering my toes. Opting for boots on Sunday with my summer dress.

Hot chocolate canisters are jockeying for the front position in my pantry once again. My Cocomotion being dusted off and readying for another season, sleek with anticipation. My freezer is filling, my pantries being stocked. Dates set for our annual potato harvest trek. Roasts are once again being cooked. I'm turning to soup for lunch more and more.

This limbo time between peach juice running off elbows and soup simmering on the stove all day for warmth is my favorite place to be. Wrapping up in a blanket with the windows open. My skirts being teamed with a cardigan once the sun dips and fades. Sipping hot chocolate and lemonade all in the same day, matching the various states of layered outfit changes. Ignoring the whines of others that winter is coming too soon, much too soon. Picking up the skin you shed at the beginning of summer and snuggling back in to the familiar rhythms of family and friends and routine.

It surprises me every year, this love I have for fall. It's strong and unyielding. Each September reveals hidden, more deeper meaning than before. I find parallels in life to be stronger in the fall than any other season. While I oft see the need for hearth and home, the fall brings it to my consciousness like no other. Food stored. My boys close. Plans slowed. Breathing purposeful. Resolve renewed. It feels very much like my personal New Year.

This year's pull has begun. My internal countdown to winter has started. I hear it on the wind and feel it in my bones. I tug on my boots and breathe. Deeply. Feeling the pull toward the things in my life that truly, deeply matter.

(feeling the pull - the swell season)

Help

2011-09-06T05:43:00.007-06:00

We read The Help for book club this past month. I liked it. I did not, however, love it with the fiery passion of my first born. I had definite issues with parts of it, as well. Mostly the ending. But we'll get to that.

The good: it was a great story. It was engaging and the characters were all very vivid. She didn't scale back the ugly, which was highly important to the story. I found myself very upset, which is clearly the plan. I hated Hilly and Skeeter's mom. The part of the entire story I identified with the most - that really spoke to me - is how dominated women were. It made me angry again and again. In a good way. Well, mostly good way. I may have spoken out at church last Sunday when someone was trying to pin a trait of a husband as something unique about the wife when I should have just let it go (or maybe not...) and I fully blame the book for reigniting my still flaming feminist ways.

The bad: She spent 400 pages setting up this grand story. 400 pages! And then she just...ends it. The ending left a LOT to be desired. Such a huge build up and the ending was such a let down. I was FINE with how it ended, but it seemed...hurried. Build up and then, oh crap. I really need to finish this so I will, um...now. It really bothered me. The other glaring thing that really bothered was the secondary story lines. Some of them I liked and some I didn't, but all of them seemed unfinished. I loved Celia Foote. She was one of my favorite characters but her entire storyline seemed moot at the end. Which was a shame because I think, if done correctly, it could have been a much, much stronger storyline than it ended up being.

The movie: It's important to know that I did not cry. Not even a little bit. And I'll tell you why. They screwed up basic characteristics of the characters in ways that they lost every ounce of integrity they had carved out in the book. Hilly and Skeeter's mom had bouts of humanity and conscience. Aibeleen lost all of her calm resolve and became mouthy. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Emma Stone was lovely, as always, but I was dismayed by how her and Stuart's relationship was portrayed on film. I know that much had to be altered for film, but these were things that didn't stay true to the characters and that simply...bothers me. Make changes to fit a film format, sure, but keep the character's traits in sync with the book. At the very least.

So I liked it. I'm not sure why it's gripped the nation so, but it's definitely worth reading. Maybe if I had gotten to it before the hype I would have loved it more. Or maybe I would still think the ending was rushed and the secondary plot lines weren't fully developed instead of focusing on the fact that Skeeter was somehow able to escape an insufferably stilted life as a wife, eschewing her goals in the process. Oh, wait. Maybe I got that point, still, loud and clear.

(from a friend to a friend, pajama club)

Week(s) in Pictures

2011-09-02T02:27:00.015-06:00

I need to reshoot these. My lovely new shoes. LOVE!

Sammy at first day Kindergarten drop off.

Present from awesome sister...

Sammy. Looking 35. I don't like it.

Let's play a fun game of spot the typo:

Fresh off the vine blackberry and peach crumble. Oh, yeah. That was happy.

Great wall o' blackberry:

Venue for Def Leppard. It's such a great spot for concerting...

(right here, right now - jesus jones)

For Those About To Rock...

2011-09-01T07:25:00.005-06:00

What do you get when you take 8 friends to see Def Leppard on a random Wednesday night? A WHOLLY good time, a sore throat, exhaustion and elation.

Notes and Questions about the night:
*There are some still trying to rock a mullet. Why?
*I have not smelled that much beer in one place since I used to go dancing every week at Retrix.
*Ann Wilson (Heart was also playing...) may be old, but she can still BELT it even if she just rocks it a little more gently.
*When they started into These Dreams (Heart), I was transported back to 6th grade, magically.
*When are rock stars too old to rock? For the record? Joe Elliott is not there yet.
*The two drunk couples (and I mean DRUUUUUUUNNNNNNKKKKK) in front of us were so disturbing in ways I can't describe. Well, except creepy and lech-y. And fearing they wouldn't make it up the incline when it was over. Thanks to the kind (had no choice) people who propped them up on the way out. Here's hoping they took a taxi!
*There was a little boy, probably around 10ish, a couple of rows up from us. Head and hand going the entire time, belting the words. He was adorable and I kept thinking that will be Sammy in a few years, rocking with the parents. And made me pretty excited to go with my sister when she takes my nephew to his first concert in a couple of months. EEEEEEE! Ticket came last week.
*They played this song, which I have not heard in 20 years, and I was suddenly transported to high school. Not one specific memory, but the totality of it. It was the strangest of sensations - memories being forced back to consciousness.

(rock on)

It was a great night with friends. We all had a good time, I think. Even if my camera's battery was exhausted and we all had J-O-Bs to get back to and could have rocked a *little* bit earlier...

It was worth it just to hear that many people singing this at the top of lungs. Awesome.

(pour some sugar on me, def leppard)

Top 5 Def Leppard

2011-08-31T04:15:00.002-06:00

1. Hysteria

2. Love Bites

3. Photograph

4. Let's Get Rocked

5. Love and Affection

Getting in the mood...

2011-08-30T04:23:00.000-06:00

Do you know what I'm looking forward to? Just a little? This.

(my beautiful home...2009)

Mostly because I'm excited to wear my new boots...because I'm clearly shallow like that.

Yay for my cheap Old Navy boots, boots!

(cold, annie lennox)

Getting Into Something

2011-08-29T05:07:00.000-06:00

For whatever reason, when we moved here, Isaac and I got it into our heads that we needed leather furniture. So we bought a couch and matching two chairs. In our old house? It was the perfect set (READ: rarely sat on).

It was fine for the random, not family room worthy, type guest and the occasional, heat escaping time to read evening, but we never really USED it. When we moved into THIS house, the furniture went downstairs and we started using it a little more often. But we both noticed we still favored the purple couch in the upstairs family room. It was just more...comfortable. Cozy. Non-sweaty. Earlier this year, it was pointless to keep denying it. We both hated our furniture! Me, granted, a little more. But I've been itching, ever since, to sell it and buy something new.

So now, well, we have a red couch.

And a beigey-yellow chaise.

That I LOVE. More than anything. I'm not even remotely kidding. I love that thing. It's the most perfect article of furniture ever created and I'm so happy we bought it. It has been declared "Tawnya's chair" and WOE unto he who sits there instead.

I can't believe we sucked it up so long with the uncomfortable furniture. I also can't believe what a difference it makes in our living room. The feel is just so completely changed. Now, one more chair of some sort to replace the last leather standing and we'll be good. As soon as I remember to list the other set for sale...

(getting into something, alison moyet)

A Marriage, Age 12

2011-08-26T04:03:00.005-06:00

I struggle sometimes with what to write on my anniversary. I could tell you about the day we got engaged. How it was during a fight and Isaac just ended up tossing the ring box at me saying, "Well, fine. Here, then". That's always a good story. Or how he loves inappropriate t-shirts (and by inappropriate, I mean inappropriate, not necessarily dirty). I could quote you the most (only?) romantic thing he's ever written to me. Or tell you innocuous stories like how we nicknamed our downstairs Portland neighbors "Mona" due to their, um, more intimate relationship we could overhear EVERY night and how that name still cracks both of us up. I have a million stories and memories, both good and bad, that I could share. But here is what twelve years of marriage really comes down to.

It's a million fights.
It's stubborn - butting heads grid lock.
It's the best hugs known to man.
It's a best friend, a first choice for any activity.
It's lovers in sync.
It's being the person I love the most and hate the most all rolled up into one.
It's partnering on all things home and parenting related.
It's laughing. Crying. Holding. Propping up.
It's dinners eaten, forgotten, ignored.
It's movies watched.
It's inside jokes - more than the end of the numbers.
It's petty arguments about nothing in particular.
It's knowing that someone always has my back. Even if having my back looks terribly like not taking my side.
It's a million kisses and a thousand cold shoulders and a million cold shoulders and a thousand kisses.
It's the being and doing and having and becoming.
It's moving. A lot.
It's putting up with musical obsessions as well as fitness or money obsessions. I mean hobbies...
It's school and jobs and bills and planning the future.
It's anticipation and dread. Joy and pain. Heartache and unbelievable happiness.

So tomorrow, we will celebrate. Twelve years. And ALL that encompasses. I know I love him. A million times more than twelve years ago and I'm suspecting, a million times less than twelve years from now. But DEFINITELY to the end of the numbers.

(you're the best thing, the style council)

It Sucked But I Didn't Die

2011-08-25T04:25:00.000-06:00

First day over. And I have to say? I'm really glad it is. There is something so tragic about walking away from your only born, knowing full well it's the start of his own life...The impact of that is every bit as difficult as I imagined it would be. I held the tears until he ran into the classroom (without looking back, I might add) and then I just lost it. I turned to leave, earlier than I anticipated, since I seemed to be the only blubbering parent in the hallway. Isaac reminded me, on the way to the car, that it's because we've raised him to be independent (dagnabit!) and not clingy that he so readily ran into the classroom not the least bit sad. He was touting this as some kind of WIN for us, when really I thought it sucked.

My morning was a flurry of getting things done around the house and showering and then, suddenly, it was time to get Isaac and pick Sammy up for his celebratory lunch. He was happy to see us and a little overwhelmed and, well, quiet. Much more quiet than usual. After we got home, he played and rested and started complaining of a headache in the late afternoon. And he was clearly exhausted. We finished up the legos were building and he was in bed and asleep by 6pm. That, above anything, is what I'm looking forward to the most. Getting a routine and stamina down to fix these exhaustion headaches of his.

He's pleased with school, though and moved up to the blue category (the highest) on behavior, so that was great. He's anxious to get his turn on the computers in his classroom and use the library. He declared it better than art camp and likes his teacher. I have a good feeling about this school and this year. It's going to be a good year. Even if I am already counting down to Memorial Day...

(three strange days, school of fish)

Sniff

2011-08-24T02:22:00.003-06:00

My baby starts school today. There is no joy in my heart for this. I want to keep him home, safe, with me. I want him to never need anyone more than me, other than me. I want him to never know the world of bullies and mean kids who don't want him to play, for whatever twisted reason they make up in their minds. I want him to never know hurt or pain or sadness. I want him to be the one human on earth who coasts along, in joy, forever. I want all of this at the same time I know it can never be.

There was a church party this past weekend and I went to drop him off, he ran to play. In the time it took me to turn and speak to someone, he was back, fighting back tears. All I could get out of him was that he didn't want to be there, he just wanted to go home and never leave. So we went home. And as he snuggled in on my lap, he told me that he couldn't find anyone to play with (though he had friends there) and that he was afraid I was going to leave him there without anyone to play with him. It was quite a bit of time later before I could get him back out to run errands with me, though I promised I wouldn't leave and we'd be home soon. I knew then it wasn't about a water party, but about nervousness with school that he can't articulate. And it broke my heart. For all of his excitement, he's nervous for the change and for me leaving and for the unknown. He's a lot like me in that way. He'd much rather know all of the unknowns going into it. He'd rather know the ending at the beginning. So I know he's a bundle of excitement and nerves and I'm anticipating a bit of a rough week ahead.

And then, I just keep thinking that I REMEMBER kindergarten. I met friends that I still talk to to this day, in kindergarten. Granted, memories are scarce and fuzzy, but still there. And I think that freaks me out even more than knowing my baby is leaving me. He's going to remember most of this and I have such a pull to make sure it's smooth and anxiety free for him. To help him have the best possible time he can. And to make sure he knows that whatever happens; bullies, kids barring him from the group, general uneasiness, that we will be here for him. Always. This is so very important for him to grow into a healthy and productive adult. No matter should it kill me to have him leave to accomplish that.

I know he needs to go. I don't have to be happy about it, though. My mother in law told me this weekend to just embrace every time he drives me crazy in my head this morning when I want to cry. I don't think it's working, though. I just keep thinking of every time my mom stood, smiling, letting me do something I know she didn't want to let me do, and how they are coming back to haunt me. And, at the same time, ignoring every other mother who has done this before me, because I do not care. This is my time to be weak and sad and not ready for change.

I think I've always been right. This motherhood thing is way too tough for me.

(the white stripes, we're going to be friends)