tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86673652024-03-13T07:31:45.128-04:00Kibitzing ShiksaSo nu? Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.comBlogger145125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-64562604283802267752020-05-01T22:53:00.000-04:002020-05-01T22:53:12.449-04:00WordsI am still writing these days - most of it is in notebooks, and none of it is clean or presentable, but it's writing nonetheless. I finally committed to following the Complete Artist's Way for a twelve week cycle, so writing has been a large part of the past several months. It was a hard start, forcing myself to put words on paper every day. Not just words, but <i>pages </i>of words, and being the overachiever that I am I decided to use the time as a soul-search. I've been out of sorts with myself for ages, and since no one has shown up on my doorstep to tell me who I am and what my problem is it seemed time to take some initiative.<br />
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After a full three months following the book prompts and writing (nearly) every morning, I'd managed to at least clear some of the cobwebs and get rusty synapses firing. A lot of what was pouring out was ugly - pain and disappointment and fear, over and over and over. Forcing myself to write, and by writing to think, was like tearing off a long-kept bandage and releasing years worth of festering depression, kept in place by a combination of stubborn will and busy-ness. "I'm too busy now. I'll think about it later." "I'm exhausted today - it can wait until next week when my deadline is past." I'd spent so much time pushing off thinking that I'd practically forgotten how to do it. Most of my days have been spent reacting, no thinking required, and when I look down at the calendar years have passed.<br />
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I've gone through several computers since I began this blog - from my first little brick of a laptop in college, to a refurbed desktop, a series of increasingly large and unwieldy things that purported to be laptops, and now my current desktop beast. In each transition files have been lost, adjustments made, but I've never loved any of them the way I did my original lappy. I spent ages on it typing papers, musing on life, haunting the Web for cat photos, all the while feeling totally at home. With each new machine I've become less comfortable, less familiar. My new desktop has an enormous hard drive, great processing power - and zero personality. It's not covered in stickers; I haven't even bothered to customize the desktop. Writing about things that are intimate and personal on this machine feels, well, <i>wrong</i>. I find myself turning more and more to paper and pen, filling notebook after notebook and tucking them away in my desk drawer, unread.Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-6433480204182352172017-03-15T23:38:00.000-04:002017-03-15T23:38:16.026-04:00Home. It's amazing how much your dreams for the future can change in a year, five years, ten years.... I distinctly recall in high school wanting to live in a giant Victorian monster of a house filled with antique furniture and secret passages. Shortly after Alaina was born the dream morphed into a country farmhouse with a huge backyard and a small barn for chickens and goats. Not so long ago I watched the "tiny house" movement spread across the country and salivated over the clean lines, wood interiors and lack of clutter. <br />
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I've been in three houses in my life that I could easily have just melted into and stayed forever - one was a country farmhouse, one was a lofted log cabin on a river, and the third was an artist's hideaway surrounded by trees and chock full of fascinating bits and pieces both natural and handmade. The architecture of each was interesting in its own way, but it was the sense of presence that the owners put into it that made them so intensely homey. From the moment you stepped across the threshold in each place you could feel that these spaces were occupied by people who were fully living, centered and content in a way I can only hope to achieve. The building and decorations weren't there to be flashy or make a statement - they were a naturally occurring extension of these folks' inner selves. (Funny thing...I didn't notice it before, but they were all artists and musicians. Coincidence?)<br />
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We're now ensconced in (to my mind) a delightful old fixer-upper: a 100+ year old Craftsman with room and to spare for our little family. It's a work in progress, certainly, but I hope to be here long enough to find some contentment in the idea of "home". Over the life of this blog (has it really been kicking around this many years?) I've lived in at least 10 different spots, so an average of maybe a year and change in any residence. Not enough time to settle in and put out roots, certainly. There's nothing wrong with wandering, if that is where your heart happens to lie, but I'm finally at a point where I'd like to stop running and actually connect with a place. I'd like my girls and their friends to dash in and out the door, feel comfortable popping into the kitchen for snacks and drinks, have the perfect spot in their rooms for looking out the window and dreaming. I want people to feel as welcome and comfortable when they walk in our door as I did when I visited my musician friends; as though they had been here forever and are welcome to come and go as they please, because it feels like home.<br />
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I know that the "home" feeling has very little to do with whether I've finished painting the walls or if there's just the right curtains in the window. It's really about whether, deep down, I've finally given myself permission to fall in love with a spot; to let go of the fear that something is going to jump up and take it away, and then proceed to just be. I want to go ahead and hang ridiculous pictures above my desk because I like them, and not worry about what other people think or whether or not they 'go with the room'. I want to fill the place with the smells of baking bread and incense and clean laundry, and wave at the neighbors when they pass by outside instead of ducking out of sight and worrying that they'll find me odd for using the antique reel mower instead of the perfectly serviceable gas one. (It's good exercise, and a lower carbon footprint!) I want to be excited when people drop in unexpectedly, and drop everything to have tea and scones and conversation, instead of panicking because there are toys on the floor and the vacuum hasn't been run.<br />
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I think, for a little while, I'd like to let go of all the expectations I've taken on from others, and just. be. me. In my <i>home. </i></div>
Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-70338175469748437302017-02-25T23:31:00.000-05:002017-02-25T23:31:48.733-05:00Breathing.Life resembles a roller coaster more and more these days - huge ups and downs, screaming past at speeds that whip your hair back and press you into your seat, unable to move. I catch myself checking and double-checking the calendar, unable to believe that another month has slipped by. Deadlines loom, days slide into weeks, and if things are accomplished it feels as if it's only by chance. Each morning when I log on to the computer for work I brace myself mentally for the onslaught that comes with opening social media - more extremes, more attacks, the middle ground trampled and resembling a muddy, rutted no man's land. The weather replicates the roller coaster pattern. In a week we went from 30 degrees to 70 to 30; mounds of snow giving way to green, muddy pathways, which are even now being dusted with a fresh layer of white. The extremes are enough to snatch your breath away. <div>
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Breathing. One of the first lessons I had when I got to music school was all about breathing (and how I wasn't doing it properly). Something so intrinsic to life, and by adulthood most of us have lost the ability to really, effectively breathe. Taking air in through your nose, keeping your shoulders down and relaxed, letting it fill your lungs from the bottom up, like water filling a barrel. Allowing your chest to expand, taking up space, and then releasing it, controlled, smooth - out, in again, out. Time slows down when I practice breathing. Everything seems quieter, less pressing; all the focus is on the air. In...out. Feeling the oxygen working its way to starved cells, the odd feeling of having control of my body back, even for just a moment, before my overactive mind gets in the way again. In...out. </div>
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I don't sing much anymore. It was something I did almost daily for such a long time, and now it's a rare thing if I even do a snatch of a tune for my children. Breathing, really breathing, has gone the way of singing as well. I go weeks, months at a time, barreling along through life, trying to meet all the demands of work/home/family, and I forget to breathe. It catches me by surprise when things slow down and I take a deep breath. It's almost as if just the act of breathing takes away the heavy blanket of dread weighing on my mind, and the small spark of life hidden in the corner, smothered by worry, catches the air and bursts up into flame. </div>
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I decided to take advantage of our youngest's naptime and the unseasonable weather today and took a walk. The air was nippy, but the sun felt warm, and the chance to stretch my legs was a pleasure after long days spent behind a desk. I had the streets mostly to myself, since the weather had cooled enough to drive most walkers back indoors, and I tried to cover as much ground as possible before the storm clouds lingering overhead decided to let loose. I was well down the tree-lined path to the local cemetery when the wind kicked up, gusting through the evergreens and pushing against me with enough force that I had to stop and lean into it to avoid being shoved sideways. It caught me by surprise, and the force of it made me inhale. Fresh, cold, pure air, rippling in and around me, forcing me to breathe, and breathe again. The wind died down and I continued on, but at a much slower pace this time, and I made sure to really, deeply breathe as I went. </div>
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The world's problems will not be solved overnight. Many of us continue to struggle. We feel alone, or ill-used, trampled by opinion or policy or just plain bad luck. All of us, though, are still able to breathe. Please - take that moment, take a breath, and know that there's another flawed human being out there who is breathing with you, feeling the earth slow down just for a moment, and wishing you all the best things. </div>
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Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-18770240025368708512016-09-27T09:39:00.001-04:002016-09-27T09:39:50.301-04:00Quiet. It's a rare moment of quiet, now - or as quiet as it gets in our piece of the world. The baby is down for a much needed nap, trying to fight off a cold; big sister is off at school, her trumpet case on the floor by her bed, waiting to be taken up for practice as soon as she breezes in.<br />
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Quiet is such an important thing for me - the cessation of noise, a break from the constant intrusion of the world. We lost power for an hour or so the other night during a massive September storm, and once the girls were tucked in bed by candlelight and I settled in myself it hit me just how <i>quiet </i>it was. No hum from appliances, no radio, no chatting - unadulterated quiet. I could feel my body unclench, muscles I didn't realize were tense relaxed, and I sighed as I just luxuriated in the absence of sounds.<br />
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I vaguely recall seeing an article online the other day that suggested that blocks of quiet time were essential for the brain to reset itself and process all the stimuli it receives throughout the day. I can absolutely attest to the validity of this. The small person is still sharing space in the bedroom while we remodel her new room upstairs, and part of her nighttime routine is having the radio set to the local NPR affiliate, which plays classical and jazz most of the night. I didn't think much of it until I read the article, but it hit me that there is almost no time during the day where I get to really enjoy quiet, even while sleeping. Last night I made it a point to shut off the radio around midnight, and I slept better than I had in some months. I think the baby did, too, if her waking at 6:30 instead of 5 was any indication.<br />
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Breathing. Enjoying the quiet. Getting to just be.Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-21223319915075648822016-09-27T09:25:00.002-04:002016-09-27T09:25:52.913-04:00Another meme to break the tedium<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span>If I was a month, I'd be October</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a day of the week, I'd be Wednesday</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a time of day, I'd be 11PM</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span>If I was a sea animal, I'd be an Otter</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a direction, I'd be North</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a piece of furniture, I'd be a Craftsman dresser</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a liquid, I'd be raindrops</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> If I was a gemstone, I'd be an amethyst</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a tree, I'd be a mountain ash</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a tool, I'd be a trowel</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a flower, I'd be a chrysanthemum</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a kind of weather, I'd be cool and crisp<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a musical instrument, I'd be a harp</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a color, I'd be gold</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was an emotion, I'd be contentment</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a fruit, I'd be an apple</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a sound, I'd be leaves rustling</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was an element, I'd be fire</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a mammal, I'd be a horse</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a phase of the moon, I'd be waxing</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was berry, I'd be black raspberry</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a bird, I'd be a heron</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was a book, I'd be a comfortable novel</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I was story, I'd be anne of green gables </div>
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Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-75158325842399075502015-06-17T20:58:00.003-04:002017-03-29T13:38:26.842-04:00Soul-searchingI had a very rude awakening several nights ago. Hubby and I were having a "discussion", trying to iron out expectations and finances and what direction to take in the days ahead. I was struggling with how to get a point across (which just so happened to be the complete opposite of the point I had in mind three days prior), and I wanted so much for him to understand where I was coming from, but it was all I could do to maintain a train of thought. He's said before that my mind runs too fast for him to keep up with on occasion, but this time I felt like I was leaping in and out of a honeycomb of boxes, each one a thought that could connect to any number of other thoughts depending on which way you turned. I started to get panicky as I realized that I was completely derailing from any rational sequence of ideas to random grasping at any idea that came to mind, secure only in the knowledge that "I'll make it work!". <br />
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When it finally hit me that I was acting completely unhinged and apologized because I couldn't seem to order my mind, he suggested that I sounded as though I were having an anxiety attack and that we could certainly shelve the discussion until I felt better. At just that moment a light appeared at the end of the dark tunnel I've been living in for months on end. Could it possibly be anxiety, and not that I've lost my mind completely? I've had fear nagging at the edges of my mind that I may have inherited the family tendency towards depression, and with several long, bleak months of winter behind us and not much in the way of spring yet to be seen it certainly felt as though it were a prolonged funk that I might not ever be able to shake.Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-61416658217444237242012-11-05T23:26:00.002-05:002012-11-05T23:26:33.196-05:00One day at a time.Elections are tomorrow. I was worn out on the media hype, attack ads, and pithy Facebook posts back in March, so I sincerely hope that all the people who have an opinion one way or the other go out tomorrow, do their civic duty, and then graciously accept the final decision and look forward as a country, and not hate-filled, polarized individuals intent on striking out at anyone who disagrees with them.<br />
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*sigh* Now that I have that off my chest I'll get on with the events of the day.<br />
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A few weeks ago we RSVP'd for an open house night at the local university's planetarium. They've done some heavy renovating over the past year, and this was a "teaser" evening to allow the public in before they have the official grand opening in February. We weren't 100% sure what the program would be, but we thought it would make for an interesting diversion, and perhaps Small might enjoy seeing the ceiling full of stars. It turned out to be a surprisingly enjoyable hour- the head of the department gave a brief overview of the night sky and pointed out the constellations currently visible in our hemisphere, and then they had a slide show discussion regarding Curiosity and some of the photos coming back from Mars. Small was suitably impressed with the star-gazing aspect and piped up several times when Dr. Hurd asked the assembled group questions (which had most of the college students laughing). There were perhaps two dozen people in attendance all told, and the department had a small reception with star cookies and punch for afterwards, which Small thought was the absolute bees' knees... Dr. Hurd even dished her out a cup of punch and thanked us for coming personally. Earlier in the evening I wasn't feeling well and had considered blowing it off, but in hindsight I'm really glad we went. We had an enjoyable family outing for just the price of gas, there was a positive educational aspect, and now we have plans to go back for the grand opening to see what it will be like when everything is fully up and running (which should also be a nice distraction from the typical gloom of February). <br />
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In the few university towns where I've lived there appears to be a large demarcation between the university population and that of the townsfolk, as though the university is some sort of strange parasite that the town is forced to live with. Would that attitude change if more people took advantage of events like the one we attended tonight? Or would people continue to gripe because they are forced to deal with college students in their midst and pay taxes to support the institution, whether they want to or not? The Sunday paper regularly has "free to the public" events hosted by the various area colleges, ranging from concerts to lectures to gallery openings, and half a dozen other things besides. If the offer is there, why not take advantage of it?<br />
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<br />Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-89772976276021624812012-11-05T00:24:00.000-05:002012-11-05T00:24:07.362-05:00Reorganizing the mind.I haven't been good at juggling lately... Not in the literal sense, but the metaphorical "too many irons in the fire" kind. I've forgotten appointments, misplaced papers, pile things on my to do list and then can't figure out where the list went, it just goes on. I don't even know that I have an excuse for being so scatterbrained, either- not pregnant, not ill, working at two fairly low key jobs. What on earth am I doing wrong? I'm usually a very type-A personality too, so the lack of organization makes me even more bonkers than the run of the mill irritation from being unable to find things. I <i>hate</i> not having everything under control.<br />
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I've been researching voluntary simplicity and organization on and off for ages now, and I'm trying to incorporate things bit by bit to our daily life, but with a non-functioning brain it really derails the process. I need to find a way to reorganize my mind and get it in some semblance of order before taking on any major family projects. Where do I even start???Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-19146628891509107222012-11-03T20:27:00.001-04:002012-11-03T20:27:18.064-04:00When the old ways still work...Pat jokes occasionally that he's a Luddite, since he's not a huge technology fan and has a hard time keeping up with the ever-changing trends in electronics, etc. Not a true Luddite, obviously, since he loves his internet access and spends a good deal of time in front of the screen, but overall more simplistic and unplugged than the average American in our age bracket. <div>
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I mention this only because yesterday I had a realization. The weather is rapidly turning towards winter, and being the perennially cold and thin-skinned individual I am I found myself curled up in the recliner with a thick blanket and slippers on, shivering and wondering where I'd hidden the small electric heater that usually resides next to my dresser. (Last winter I spent several hours huddled over this miniature power hog with a blanket over my head, attempting to create a one-woman sauna hot enough to peel off my outermost layers of skin. It was only after getting the electric bill for the month that I reluctantly put the heater aside, but I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it all together- we were far too close for that.) The blanket wasn't really doing the trick, and I couldn't recall which closet the heater had been relegated to, so I decided to see if the hot water bottle I'd purchased on a whim last summer might work. I was fairly certain it was hidden somewhere under the bathroom sink, so I put the kettle on to warm up while I fished around between shampoo bottles and rolls of paper towels before emerging triumphant and heading back to the kitchen. </div>
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Wonder of wonders!!!! These things hold heat<b> forever</b>, and you don't have to plug them in! I could wander around the house hugging my happy red bag of warm, and I wasn't limited by the length of a cord! And did I mention it's warm???? </div>
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It may not be the latest technological marvel (maintains-a-temp-of-101-degrees-24-hours-a-day-only-19.95-order-now!), and I'm no Luddite, but by golly it does the job well and simply. How could anyone not be satisfied with that?</div>
Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-64343224498047850002012-10-30T21:46:00.001-04:002012-10-30T21:46:06.682-04:00All Hallow's Eve EveWe went from a two hour delay to a complete school closure this morning due to flooding, which was an unanticipated but not unwelcome surprise. Girl's day in, with movies and popcorn and carving of pumpkins, which went reasonably well considering Small wanted to do an ogre. I'm fine with stencils, but free-handing and carving is not my forte.<br />
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A bit of confession: my first thought when the cancellation call came through was "oh, no, now I'll not get ANYTHING done with my day off." Small is not a difficult child in any respect, but since there aren't many other children around for her to spout off with at length, she turns her attentions to me and Pat. Most times this isn't a problem, but she has a constant streaming monologue going most of the day, and it's difficult to pay attention to that and participate while at the same time trying to cross things off my to-do list. There are far too many days when I have huge mommy-guilt because I tell her no, I don't have time to play with dolls or read a story or sit and watch the tv with her. After my "oh no" thought, someone must have felt the need to tweak me a bit, because over the course of today I managed to scrub the bathroom, do the dishes, run laundry, vacuum the house, make the bed, cook three meals, and we were still able to watch two videos, carve pumpkins, and spend some time over the Playmobil people together. (And yes, she was tucked into bed at her normal time.) <br />
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If I could figure out what the difference was between today and my normal half-crazed hectic schedule I'd have the key to happy home life.Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-66049049281970869512012-10-29T22:58:00.001-04:002012-10-29T22:58:19.638-04:00The wind has seriously picked up this evening, to the point you can tell there's a hurricane working its way up the coast. I haven't cranked up the heat in the house yet, but I'm definitely debating putting on some thick socks and a sweater.<br />
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We ventured out earlier for choir rehearsal before things got too ugly, and on the way we stopped at a roadside stand and picked up two mid-size pumpkins for carving tomorrow night. The school just called and confirmed a two hour delay tomorrow as well, so we'll have a bit of a lie-in on top of evening festivities.<br />
We actually got to the church a bit early, so I had a chance to run over things, and Small worked on her C major scale. She caught on quickly to the note pattern and followed it the whole way up the keyboard, which is awesome... I haven't wanted to push too hard on instrument training in case it put her off, but when she shows an interest we putter around and have fun with it. She loves singing in particular and she's very fond of the bongos a friend gave her for Christmas two years ago, but I'm still surprised when she pitch matches and tries to pick up songs by ear on the recorder. I see her every day, but the leaps and bounds in what she can do always catch me off guard.<br />
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I had several inter-library loan books arrive earlier this afternoon, so I think I'm going to finish folding sheets, find a warm blanket to curl up in and read until bedtime. It's perfect weather for it, after all.<br />
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<br />Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-26725620856620403472012-10-28T20:31:00.000-04:002012-10-28T20:31:33.569-04:00I have stood here before, inside the pouring rain...Cold, wet, miserable weather, which is pretty much what I expect for this time of year. I don't know if it's selective amnesia, but the locals are always SHOCKED when the weather isn't 75 degrees and sunny in this area. Really, folks? You live in the SNOW BELT. It gets cold here! Yes, it's a shame that it will likely be raining over Halloween, but I think with thermals on under the costume and a large umbrella the Small should be perfectly okay with it. It was drizzly and chilly last year at this time, as I recall, and we ended up the evening with hot chocolate and a movie after all the excitement, so I don't believe she was in the least disappointed with how things turned out.<br />
<br />
Since Pat will be away this week due to work we decided to bump up the traditional "popcorn, cider and movie" night to yesterday, and Brother B joined us a bit later in the evening bearing a rather tasty shepherd's pie. Small seemed to like Mad Monster Party (and <i>really </i>liked the shepherd's pie, which I think Brother found gratifying). I'm thinking that after trick or treat we'll catch a short Halloween special.... either Charlie Brown, or Which Witch is Which. There are so many fun holiday specials I recall watching when I was younger, and she's finally hitting an age where she appreciates a lot of them. (Then again, this is the child whose favorite films list includes a lot of Ray Harryhausen.) We also did quite a bit of cooking today, which was dual purpose: one, Pat will be able to have some home cooked food instead of being forced to eat out every day this week, and two, it warmed the house up considerably. Win all around!<br />
<br />Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-47827978031952609712012-10-26T20:57:00.001-04:002012-10-26T20:57:09.911-04:00I AM the jealous redhead. I keep thinking I want to get back to blogging regularly again, but I don't feel that I have that much to say. At 16 I thought I was going to be a writer, and I churned out page after handwritten page of fantasy stories and journal entries.... Now, not so much.<br />
<br />
Part of my problem is I still don't have much confidence when it comes to pursuing what I like and taking a few chances. I make catty comments about people's pricing of Etsy items, and then catch myself and realize that the reason I'm being catty is because I'm jealous. <i>I </i>want to make nifty things and have enough confidence in my work to show it to other people and be proud of it, but I'm a) too damn critical, and b) terrified that what I do won't be perfect. (Those two may be synonymous. I haven't decided yet.) What if I tried to write a novel and it ended up being utter, horrible schlock? Worst that could happen- it WOULD be utter, horrible schlock, I and other people would recognize it, and life would go on. That's the part that amazes me- life will continue, and with most of the people I know now, they would all be kind enough to write it off as "good practice" and then have the courtesy not to mock me about it for years to come. I keep holding on to this fear that if I do even the slightest thing wrong I will never be allowed to live it down, so I don't do anything at all. I work at my quiet little office job and stress like hell to make sure that there are NO mistakes on anything, instead of just doing the best I can, admitting to the occasional mistake, and learning from it, and this is a low-key, part time, going nowhere position. I can't even fathom having a "high stress" career.<br />
<br />
My closest girlfriend has been after me for years about going to therapy, and I shrug it off and go about my business. I'm making baby steps forward at home now that I have a supportive family, but I recognize that yes, I have some issues. What really brings it home is that in talking with another sibling and watching him exhibit all the signs of massive depression, now <i>I'm </i>the one advising therapy, and he's gently shrugging it off and going about his business, and it is so. darn. frustrating. I SEE that his quality of life is much less than it could be. I SEE that he has MASSIVE amounts of talent and potential, and it's being quashed by something that could possibly be treated, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it except be here for him when he wants it. I'm seeing this firsthand from both sides of the coin, and it's STILL hard to actually try and do something about it. <br />
<br />
Some people make goals public to give themselves motivation and accountability. Perhaps instead of a NaNoWriMo I'll spend the next month trying to blog something at least once a day. No more lurking- time to actually do something.Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-54028515269082969562012-03-30T11:55:00.000-04:002012-03-30T11:55:17.296-04:00And the past just repeats itself...<i><b>This is a draft of a post originally written up in 2010- some things don't change all that much...</b></i><br />
<br />
Trying to jot down things I like, because I need reminding.<br />
<br />
Tori Amos<br />
La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Volee</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">d'Castors</span><br />
Rusted Root<br />
Edward Gorey<br />
Dresden Dolls<br />
Playing the piano when no one is around<br />
<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">RealFruit</span> lime <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">popsicles</span><br />
Waldorf fairy dolls<br />
Swishy hippie skirts and peasant blouses<br />
<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Baldur's</span> Gate<br />
Long bubble baths<br />
tea and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">biscotti</span><br />
<br />
God, this is harder than I thought.....<br />
<br />
Billie Holiday<br />
Miles Davis<br />
Black and white films<br />
Silver and turquoise jewelry<br />
Thunderstorms<br />
Secret Garden<br />
Stevie Nicks<br />
Labyrinth<br />
Gothic architecture<br />
2 AM walks down quiet streets<br />
Graveyards<br />
Cats<br />
Horses<br />
Badger Balm<br />
Dr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Bronner's</span> peppermint soap<br />
Hole in the wall restaurants<br />
Old cars<br />
Brian <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Froud</span><br />
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Upon close inspection, in the past month I have indulged in exactly 2 of these- one song, and rubbing balm on someone else during a massage. Letting depression get to me again- frustrated with my lack of mom-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">fu</span>, worried about money and having little luck with finding extra work that's doable around kid schedule, spending way too much time dwelling on old issues that will remain unresolved... Sometimes I think college me was a lot more interesting and put together. Now I just feel like I'm on an endless treadmill of self loathing with stops to beat myself up for being such a whiny bitch. What happened to the person who was endlessly interested in everything, and couldn't wait to go to work and chat up total strangers in an effort to make people smile and learn new things? The crazy girl who moved to the big city on a whim, who is so screwed up now that leaving the house for the grocery store is a major undertaking and hardly worth the effort? Do all moms go through this, or am I just shite at the whole mess?Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-70151599304405545582012-03-16T00:55:00.000-04:002012-03-16T00:55:56.367-04:00No, I'm Not Sorry.I'm fed up with constantly feeling apologetic. Most of my day is spent agonizing over how I'm failing in one way or another and how I should be apologizing to the world at large for not living up to everyone's expectations every single moment. "I'm sorry I don't spend more one on one time with my daughter; I'm sorry I want to get out of bed at two in the morning to play the piano instead of forcing myself to sleep because I need to be up at six thirty to start the day; I'm sorry I don't have a full time job that eats up most of my daylight hours and I'm sorry I do have two jobs since Small has to spend most of her afternoons with a babysitter instead of me; I'm sorry I can't go to church at ten different places and believe the same things other people believe because if I'm not with them I'm against them; I'm sorry that some days I'm not up to cooking healthy homemade meals and we just eat leftovers; I'm sorry that I find your treatment of people despicable and don't like being around you; I'm sorry that I'm not able to drop everything I'm doing at the moment to volunteer with your group...."<br />
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I'm so clouded with "I'm sorry" that I can physically feel myself getting dumber- there's no room to think in the constant fog shrouding my brain. I can't pinpoint a specific moment when I felt that I had to be all things to all people and if I slipped in any way I was just a massive good-for-nothing. I worked at a job I was absolutely miserable in for an additional seven months AFTER I had decided that I had to quit and couldn't handle it anymore, not because I needed the money or I was looking for something else, but because I didn't want to be "sorry" that I was leaving the position and "couldn't handle the work". Where did working at something that kills you inside become de rigeur? Why is it if you quit everyone around you thinks you're a lazy bum? I put a great deal of effort into being the best I could possibly be in that particular job, felt nothing except that I wasn't doing enough (and would never be ABLE to do enough), and just felt massively guilty that I couldn't deliver.<br />
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This is likely just build up in my head- most of the people I know tell me I'm not lazy and I have plenty to offer just by being me, but there's this huge sense of foreboding hanging over me all the while that if I don't snap to it and get back to the 9-5 ASAP horrible things will happen and I'll be branded for life as just another skater who "got by" while sitting on their backside and mooching off others. (Keep in mind that I'm still employed- I'm down to one part time job instead of two, and I've been off the second job for a week and a half and have already had an interview for another position.) I pay all my bills, we're not on assistance, we have a savings account, and I still feel ashamed for not being "successful"- particularly so since what I really want to do is take a wild risk and find a job doing something I ENJOY. I feel a vague sense of shame that my priorities lie more in doing things at home cheaply on my own, instead of working for someone else in order to pay higher prices at the store for the convenience of NOT doing it at home (i.e., I can pay $5 for a bottle of laundry soap at the store, which translates to the better part of an hour at the current minimum wage, or I could MAKE the soap at home in 5 minutes for pennies on the dollar). <br />
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I admire and envy people who buck the norm and do crazy things like buying a van and taking their music on the road- and yes, people have done this with children and haven't ended up in jail or with the kids in therapy for the rest of their lives. Right now I'm too scared to even THINK about pursuing a dream- not just because of lack of confidence, but what would PEOPLE think? And what if I failed? The cloud rolls in and I duck my head back down and go back to the office or check in on Facebook and see what everyone else is doing and totally avoid that line of thinking until the next time I'm at the end of my rope mentally and want to run away screaming.<br />
<br />
I'm tired. Tired of apologizing, and tired of excuses, tired of shuffling blame, and really, really tired of being sorry.Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-82422697663085882972011-08-15T23:01:00.000-04:002011-08-15T23:01:58.949-04:00Finish what you start!Apparently something I need to work on- there are at least five partial posts sitting in reserve, probably never to see the "publish" button, and now I've started a sixth. There are so many things that I want to get done, but it seems more and more lately that I run out of time or energy or both before I get anywhere close to accomplishing my growing list of to do's.<br />
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I fell into a happy accident over the weekend, however- on a rushed trip through our favorite used bookstore I stumbled across a copy of <i>The Enormous Egg</i>... It was a nice sized paperback copy, and as soon as I realized what it was and that it was in good condition I didn't let it out of my sight until the nice lady at the counter slipped it into the bag with a handful of other children's books and cheerfully rang up our five dollar purchase.<br />
<br />
<br />
It's a dangerous thing to get your hopes up about your offspring loving something from your childhood, especially if there's a great deal of sentimental value attached to it. I had a pang the other day when the Small turned down a fabulous vintage metal lunchbox with the original Sesame Street gang on it in favor of a plain purple cloth bag... Stupid, really, but I had gotten myself geared up on the idea that a metal lunchbox would be sturdier and longer lasting than the new bags that are all the rage now, and how could anyone say no to Bert and Ernie? She was very polite about it when I showed her the options available, but my shoulders sagged a bit as she gently told me "no thank you, Mommy". I'm truly a lover of classic and vintage, and I had visions of the aisles of pink and purple plastic Disney Princess and Tinkerbell garbage they sell at all the big box stores and realized that I may have to resign myself to the idea that Small prefers that style and I'll just have to deal with it. <br />
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With that thought in mind, I was somewhat hesitant about starting <i>The Enormous Egg </i>as a bedtime story. I had first heard the book in second grade when our teacher read it aloud to us, chapter by chapter over the course of a few weeks, and I <i>loved </i>it. I hadn't read it since, but to this day the plot is irrevocably etched in my memory. I had begun reading chapter books in first grade, so I didn't think it was outside Small's attention span, but I was prepared to get another polite "no, thank you" in favor of the latest Disney princess trash borrowed from the local library and geared myself up for another mild disappointment.<br />
<br />
After tonight's two chapter marathon (with a scratchy voice and sore throat from the lingering virus I picked up last week), the munchkin practically BEGGED me to continue on to the next chapter, since the egg hadn't hatched yet. When I begged off, pleading fatigue and promising to continue tomorrow night, she asked if we could have just one chapter in the morning, instead of having to wait ALL DAY. <br />
<br />
This- sitting in the rocker while Small listens intently and carefully pores over the occasional black and white illustration- is exactly what I'd hoped for when I found out she was on her way. If I was going to have to pick one tradition to keep, JUST ONE, it would be nightly story time. There's a timelessness in reading aloud (particularly a classic story), and for a moment we're part of this unending chain of mothers and daughters who have all participated in the bedtime story ritual- the low murmur of voices and the rustle of turning pages, capturing and enticing the imagination while at the same time easing from the business of the day to the stuff of dreams. Such a simple thing, and possibly the most meaningful and important thing I've accomplished in many weeks. <br />
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Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-54301124617662548802010-09-03T23:38:00.000-04:002010-09-03T23:38:24.742-04:00Weather finally seems to have broken, and it's much more comfortable in the house than it was yesterday- a single fan in each room keeping it lovely and cool instead of just moving hot heavy air.<br />
<br />
Excitement abounds as the first day of preschool approaches. We went for orientation yesterday, and the small had a chance to meet her teachers and get a feel for the classroom (and a few of her fellow students). She is now fully gung ho and can't wait to get on the schoolbus Tuesday morning. She doesn't know yet, but there are two packages waiting for her to be opened Monday night- a new Tinkerbell backpack from her nana, and a fancy matching pencil box from one of her aunts (completely unplanned, but a fortuitous happenstance). I remember lying awake late into the night the eve before school started; somehow, I think the small might have a similar problem. She's been ridiculously well-behaved this past week, and bubbling over with love and kisses for everyone. I'd like to think it's because the nervousness about something new has worn off and she's just reached the excited stage, but we'll see when Tuesday rolls around. I'll be able to put her on the bus Tuesday morning, and I fully intend to have the camera ready to go to catch the first day... The fact that she's old enough now to get on a bus and be independent of me for the entire day hasn't fully sunk in yet, and when I do think about it I just marvel at how quickly the time has gone and exactly how far she's come even in just the past six months or so. This evening I set her up on the computer to play games on Nick Jr., and she navigated through the site like a pro- twice she asked for help, and it was just because the instructions weren't clear on how to switch from video mode to game mode. Incredible. <br />
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I told her that before school started we would redecorate her room in whatever fashion she chose, and she decided on a purple Tinkerbell theme. Fortunately Mama still gets a say in how things are decorated, so instead of massive amounts of plastic and Disney-stamped everything, we've incorporated some actual "nature" into the design... Ages ago I purchased two pale purple saris from the thrift store, and between the two of them there was enough fabric for a window curtain, two large curtains to replace her closet door, and a reading tent in the corner. The reading tent is just a grapevine wreath with the sari fabric attached to hang down like a circus tent, suspended from the ceiling by several lengths of purple yarn, and inside is a small Tinkerbell papasan chair, a tiny purple art tray that's been repurposed to hold library books, and a small reading lamp. She spends the better part of her evenings after she gets ready for bed either sitting or lying down in the tent, flipping through storybooks in the gleam of her "very own light!" as she puts it. Her furniture is all natural blonde wood, and we found a string of lights with colored iron butterfly shades to drape around her vanity mirror and provide some soft lighting for bedtime, as well as a small wicker basket to hold her "outside treasures"- pinecones and interesting stones and twigs that she brings home from our walks. We incorporated a few new storage units in her closet for sorting toys and art supplies, and a few Tinkerbell printed pop up boxes on her bookshelf round out the decor and hold most of her farm animal collection. Since we wrapped up the better part of the decorating about two weeks ago, the cleanliness of her room has been astounding. Occasionally I have to remind her that toys need put away or that a shirt worn the day before needs to go in the laundry pile, but for the most part now that each thing has a designated area she keeps it fairly orderly. Just another reminder that she's growing up far too quickly for my taste, but at the same time I'm beyond proud of her and wouldn't wish her to be anything other than what she is. <br />
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Well, school- I just hope that my little girl gets everything she expects from you, and more. She's an awfully special little bug.Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-50281040987813600992010-08-27T05:57:00.000-04:002010-08-27T05:57:07.184-04:00Swift changes in the weather still catch me by surprise. You would think by now, having lived in *insert area here* for as long as I have, I would understand this,and yet each year at the change of season I'm caught totally off guard. A week ago there were industrial fans blowing all over the house and it was still close to 90 degrees, and this morning I woke up with an icy shoulder where the blanket had slipped down in the night. The munchkin is disturbed by this as well. Twice this week she has come home from my girlfriend's house complaining that she'd not been allowed to go swimming in the lake because it was too chilly. Many of the local kids are starting back to school next week, and munchkin herself will begin preschool shortly after that. Preschool- are we really at this point already? I remember pushing her around town in her stroller pointing out every puppy and kitty we passed along the way as she burbled and squealed, and now she's watching Discovery channel films about dinosaurs and repeating the names for me in case I missed them. Incredible.<br />
<br />
I don't begrudge the passing of time- on the contrary, I'm generally ready to get on to the next thing. What I do find myself brooding about is that on any given day I'm so wrapped up with the little details that an entire month can pass by without me having taken a moment to look at the larger picture. I like to see progress in my life, and when it's the same wash/rinse/repeat day in and day out it's easy to get depressed over "not getting anywhere". It's not so bad right now, but when winter rolls in and there's nothing but gray skies and white landscape for days on end I'll need to conciously plan "evaluation" times so I'm not steamrolled by the seasonal depression I already struggle with. <br />
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In the meantime, though, fall is starting to creep in all around, and I'm relishing every moment that I can. Yesterday while driving home from a late afternoon at work I rolled the windows down to soak up the cool freshness of the air smelling of evergreen and damp earth and the occasional hint of wood smoke. I passed a small garden with one enormous pumpkin peeking over the rest of the greenery and made a mental note to see if friends from Large City to the South would be interested in taking a trip to a pumpkin farm later in the season. Recipes for scones and stew and spice muffins work their way up from the recesses of my mind, where they'd been relegated until the weather was no longer too hot to work over the stove, and if all works out well today I think I'll make a batch of flatbread before it's time to head to the library for our weekly sojourn.Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-60296364757508997122010-08-24T22:42:00.000-04:002010-08-24T22:42:17.749-04:00I had a minor revelation this morning while looking at Facebook. I seldom, if ever, do status updates. I'm just not the type of person who feels that what I'm doing at any particular moment is noteworthy enough that I need to inform multiple people at once, and besides that- if I have a thought, I want to flesh it out properly, not drop 140 characters and then rush off to the next thing. Living with a four year old is choppy enough..... trying to follow her thought processes and keep up with her short attention span leaves me feeling as though I've been put through a mental wringer, and at the end of the day I want nothing more than a few solid minutes of quiet where I can have a complete, uninterrupted thought, even if it's something as banal as putting together a grocery list for the week. I think I understand now why the earpieces in Harrison Bergeron were so effective at keeping everyone at the lowest common denominator. (Bonus points if you understand the reference... One of my favorite short stories in high school.)<br />
<br />
I've been listening to Mumford & Sons a bit recently.... I love that folk music is coming around again as the cool thing to listen to- makes it that much easier to find on the limited radio stations in this area. I've been switching back and forth between two college radio stations on my way to and from work (they seem to have a much better mix than the "we play everything" mainstream stations), and "Little Lion Man" has popped up repeatedly; so much so that I had to go look up the rest of their stuff, which is fairly catchy. I'm not sure I would rave over them, but I've hummed along with the chorus to most of their songs and it has a good feel to it. I've also been meaning to catch up on the Decemberists as well, but there just doesn't seem to be enough time in the day (especially where the munchkin is sleeping and won't ask me about the lyrics). The perils of liking dark emotive music and art when all around you the world says that as a mommy everything you partake of should be sugar and sweetness and light so it's safe for small people's consumption. Even now I don't think my mother knows that I absolutely adore Edward Gorey. I shocked the hell out of my sister by knowing Linkin Park lyrics when they were first getting popular- for some reason the entire family thought that I only listened to celtic instrumental pieces. *shrug* I wonder if people get into ruts where they just listen and read the same things over and over because they've forgotten that there are other things they like. What I want to hear on any given day really depends on my mood. Some days are Miles Davis days, others are Metallica or Woods Tea Company or Bjork. Sometimes I don't know what I want, and then I stumble onto something that's been hidden in the back of a drawer for two or three years and put it on repeat for a solid day. I found an old mix cd of marching band numbers and couldn't stop crying the entire time they played, because it reminded me of things that I'd locked away for ages and hadn't had a chance to air. Now and again I tell myself I'm going to create a scrapbook so I can fill it with things I enjoy, and when the gray days roll around I can pull it out and remember who I am. <br />
<br />
Today I liked portabello chicken in balsamic reduction, ukelele music played badly on a college green, nerds who are proud enough to wear t-shirts of musicals, rpgs, and old TV shows, classic black and white movies where people smoke and are mean and just fabulously real, the first cool morning you wake up and throw on your old hoodie because it's delicously soft and warm, blackberry green tea in tiny china teacups, the smell of fresh baked bread in an artisan cafe, musicians who are beautiful only when they're in the middle of making music, library books that haven't been read in years and have that old book aroma, Car Talk on NPR and the Puzzler with Will Shortz, the Sunday Times, going to bed absolutely exhausted and yet finding enough energy to snuggle with someone you love for an hour, standing outside in the middle of the night listening to the wind, and lighted candles. <br />
<br />
And not least the half hour after the small one is asleep, curled up in a ball in the bed and breathing deeply, while I stand in the doorway and listen before slipping out to have my five minutes of uninterrupted thought while looking forward to waking up in the morning to hugs from tiny arms and requests for breakfast.Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-91321714020241571922010-08-17T23:05:00.000-04:002010-08-17T23:05:04.125-04:00Wow... Lots of changes since I was last in here. It's almost pretty enough for me to want to write again, in spite of my overwhelming tendency towards privacy (and lack of social life). <br />
<br />
Honestly, though- so many blogs now are "themed": mommy blogs, design blogs, cooking blogs... I don't have nearly that much organization in my life. I feel fortunate if I manage to get out the door with everything the small and I need for the day. It drives me crazy. By the time I make it home from work I'm done-in enough not to plan for the next day beyond swapping music in and out of my day bag, but I've no idea what to do about it. Shameful, really. It was pointed out to me today, however, that I might have a bit more pep if I actually took a daily vitamin, so perhaps that will be the next step. *sigh* I hate pills.<br />
<br />
I'm debating looking for one of those "writing prompt" pages.... just to get back into things and participate rather than sitting back and wasting time blankly staring at other people's pages. Then again, if I can't find anything worthwhile to write about on my own, how is a prompt going to improve things? And does the world really need one more crappy blogger wasting bandwidth?Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-78275569191522760292010-01-04T16:15:00.002-05:002010-01-04T16:35:55.711-05:00Just swept three feet of snow off my car, and from the looks of things out the window it will soon be covered again... the joys of winter in the snow belt. The munchkin is watching Bedknobs and Broomsticks for the umpteenth time and dancing about to the music, and I'm nursing an upset tummy and taking a break from post-holiday house cleaning. There's something incredibly bleak about the look of a room after the Christmas decorations have come down, especially when everything outside is white and grey. (On the plus side, David Tomlinson juggling is always good for a smile.)<br /><br />I'm glad we're done with the bustle and I have a chance to breathe again- I'm still working on recovering my voice after 8 straight masses with no break in between, but at least the busy-ness is toned down until Easter rolls around in early April, and I can try and get things back to normal in the house. All the running has the kiddo incredibly off-schedule, which isn't good for either us... She's waking at odd hours, still working rich food out of her system, and just generally hyped up and hard to handle. She did an incredible job keeping it together over the long Christmas weekend, though, considering we didn't make it home until after midnight three days running. I forget sometimes that's she's only just turned four, she's such a capable little bug so much of the time. I'm both worried and impressed at how quickly she picks up on things. Her nana bought her a keyboard/PC tablet combo that plugs into the main computer and is basically a digital preschool, and the clever little monkey plugged the USB cable into the proper port and started the program WITHOUT ME SHOWING HER. *fears for my sanity when she hits school age*<br /><br />I didn't bother making any resolutions for the new year- I have a hard enough time not beating myself up on a daily basis without having impossible goals hanging over my head, but I figured posting on here would be a nice change of pace from my usual banging about the 'net.Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-38512643278187568102009-04-08T07:08:00.005-04:002009-04-08T08:27:36.353-04:00Seven A.M. The sun is up and the town is waking around me, but I've been up for three hours now. The coffee pot is half full of warm brew- shouldn't be drinking coffee, but I know it's too late to try to sleep again, and the panic attacks are easier to deal with during the day anyway.<br /><br />Any moment the baby will wake up and tap at the bedroom door to let me know she's ready to start her day, so I hoard these few minutes of silence with my warm cup... Not as good as sleep, maybe, but it will do for now. God, I just wish I could sleep. Sleep without dreaming, without waking up panicked and choking and begging silently for something I can't even define. The past few nights have been better, if only because I'm just unsettled and anxious instead of consumed with fear, but the fact that I keep wanting to call the dream person and see if he's all right is driving me crazy. Before that were the kidnapping dreams, every night a variation on how I was going to lose my girl, and the daylight hours I spent fighting down the paranoia that threatened to rise up and engulf me every time the phone rang or someone knocked at the door. A friend tells me that this is normal; well, as normal as things can be for people like us.<br /><br />People like us. God, what a phrase.<br /><br />It's so easy to read the news articles about this or that unimaginable atrocity and shake your head, turning to the person beside you for commiseration as you say how awful <span style="font-style: italic;">those people</span> are and how thankful you are that those things don't happen around <span style="font-style: italic;">here</span>. You conveniently ignore the voice in the back of your head that's screaming at you to open your eyes and see what's really happening, you shut off the video player in your brain that shows clip after clip of how you've been on the receiving end of those things. If it keeps up long enough you try and have a nice rational discussion with the voice...<br /><br />"No, no, you've got it all wrong. See, it's different in my case, because my life is normal- these people in the newspaper are obviously not normal, and besides, if something bad happened to me it was probably my fault anyway, so it's not like I'm a victim or anything like that. No, you just don't GET it, do you? I AM NORMAL. This doesn't happen to normal people. *pause to listen* You see, I can explain that time- he was just having an off day, and I really DID make him angry, so it was perfectly logical for him to hit me. I DESERVED that, and I only got bruised because I tripped over my feet and fell down while he was swinging, so that wasn't his fault at all, really. *another pause* Well, no, I didn't ask him to do that, and it did hurt quite a bit, but I'm almost sure I was giving him the wrong idea, so that was my fault too, you know. It's really quite simple."<br /><br />People like us. People who think it's all their fault, who think they're weak because they get depressed and anxious and don't understand why- people like us, who have been beaten, raped, degraded, manipulated, tortured, ground down, and who try to get through the day by thinking it's all in their heads, because people who are supposed to love you would never do that sort of thing to you. People who beat themselves up when tears run silently down their cheeks for "no good reason", people who think they've gone crazy because they lose their grip on reality and can't figure out why.<br /><br />People like us.Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-61023007115396922672009-04-06T21:29:00.004-04:002009-04-06T21:51:45.113-04:00100 Truths Meme (from T$)1. last beverage? Cold coffee.<br />2. last phone call? Message on the answering machine from NY.<br /><ul class="list details-only"><li class="item item-1 item-odd"><div class="details"><div class="itembody">3. last text message? "i'm always with you"<br />4. last song you listened to? mummer's dance- loreena mckennit<br />5. last time you cried? saturday afternoon.<br /><br />SIX HAVE YOU EVER:<br />6. dated someone twice? Yes.<br />7. been cheated on? *shrugs*<br />8. kissed someone & regretted it? Yep.<br />9. lost someone special? Yes.<br />10. been depressed? *nods*<br />11. been drunk and threw up? Nope.<br /><br />LIST THREE FAVORITE COLORS:<br />12. Midnight blue.<br />13. Black.<br />14. Silver.<br /><br /><br />THIS Year HAVE YOU:<br />15. Made new friends? A few.<br />16. Fallen out of love? No.<br />17. Laughed until you cried? Not for a while, but yes.<br />18. Met someone who changed you? Not in the past four months.<br />19.Found out who your true friends were? I think I've known for some time.<br />20. Found out someone was talking about you? Mmhmm.<br />21. Kissed anyone on your friend's list? I kiss lots of my friends. It's how I say hello.<br />22. How many people on your friends list do you know in real life? Erm... Must be geared at the IM crowd, but all of them.<br />23. How many kids do you want to have? I have one- I think that's a good enough start.<br />24. Do you have any pets? Currently 5 fish, but they technically belong to my daughter.<br />25. Do you want to change your name? Yep- going back to the maiden name as soon as I can get around to the paperwork.<br />27. What did you do for your last birthday? A friend made me dinner and we watched movies.<br />28. what time did you wake up today? 4 Am.<br />29. What were you doing at midnight last night? Having a nightmare.<br />30. Name something you CANNOT wait for? I don't think there's anything that pressing on my list.<br />31. Last time you saw your father? Thursday.<br />32. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life? Get back to me on this one.<br />33. What are you listening to right now? Baldur's Gate background music.<br />35. What's getting on your nerves right now? Myself.<br />36. Most visited webpage? Lolcats.<br />37. What’s your real name? Heh.<br />38. Nicknames? Red, Killah, Celtic Fairie Princess.<br />39. Relationship Status? Newly divorced.<br />40. Zodiac sign? Sagittarius.<br />41. Male or female or transgendered? Female.<br />42. Elementary? My dear Watson.<br />43. Middle School? No such thing.<br />44. High school? Best forgotten.<br />45. Hair color? Red.<br />46. Long or short? Getting long again.<br />47. Height? 5'8".<br />48. Do you have a crush on someone? Crush is a horrible word.<br />49. What do you like about yourself? Not sure I can answer that one today.<br />50. Piercings? Both ears.<br />51. Tattoos? No, but I know a guy...<br />52. Righty or lefty? Righty.<br /><br />FIRSTS :<br />53. First surgery? Wisdom teeth out during college.<br />54. First Piercing? Ears when I was 8.<br />55. First best friends? Hmm.... Jodi, maybe?<br />56. First sport you joined? Basketball.<br />57. First pet? Callie.<br />58. First vacation? North Carolina.<br />59. First concert? Tori Amos at the Warner.<br />60. First crush? I think his name was Mark, way back in kindergarten.<br /><br />RIGHT NOW<br />61. Eating? Nothing.<br />62. Drinking? Nothing.<br />63. I'm about to? Head up and crawl into bed.<br />64. Listening to? The fishtank burbling.<br />65. Waiting for? The panic to go away.<br /><br />YOUR FUTURE :<br />66. Want kids? Have a kid.<br />67. Get married? Been there, done that.<br />68. Careers in mind? One, but it's not terribly practical.<br /><br />WHICH IS BETTER :<br />69. Lips or eyes? Eyes.<br />70. Hugs or kisses? Depends on the person.<br />71. Shorter or taller? Taller.<br />72. Older or Younger? Older.<br />73. Romantic or spontaneous? Romantic.<br />74. Nice stomach or nice arm? What?<br />75. Sensitive or loud? Sensitive.<br />76. Hook-up or relationship? Relationship<br />77. Trouble maker or hesitant? Trouble-maker- I like me some bad boys.<br /><br />HAVE YOU EVER :<br />78. Kissed a stranger? Yes.<br />79. Drank hard liquor? I've been known to have a white russian on occasion.<br />80. Lost glasses/contacts? Too often.<br />81. Sex on first date? Absolutely not.<br />82. Broken someone's heart? Not sure... Had mine broken, so Gods I hope not.<br />83. Had your own heart broken? *nod*<br />84. Been drunk? A bit tipsy.<br />85. Been arrested? Nope.<br />86. Turned someone down? A few times.<br />87. Cried when someone died? Yes.<br />88. Liked a friend that is a girl? I have a number of girlfriends.<br /><br />DO YOU BELIEVE IN:<br />89. Yourself? Not too often.<br />90. Miracles? I think so.<br />91. Love at first sight? In very rare instances.<br />92. Heaven? Something like.<br />93. Santa Clause? That sounds like a legal thing, so I oppose it on principle.<br />94. Karma? You betcha.<br />95. Kiss on the first date? If it's going well? Sure.<br />96. Angels? The jury is out.<br /><br />ANSWER TRUTHFULLY:<br />97. Is there one person you want to be with right now? *nod*<br />98. Had more than one boyfriend/girlfriend at one time? *laughing* Semi-dated two guys at once.... Funny stories there.<br />99. Told someone you loved them when you didn't? Still do, but it makes it easier to walk out the door that way.<br />100. Posting this as 100 truths? I suppose so.<br /></div></div></li></ul>Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-30767863824493147662008-10-10T14:03:00.001-04:002008-10-10T14:06:25.964-04:00*small, sad smile*<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_juu33Yb8L44/SO-ZTbY9zHI/AAAAAAAAAFo/xEjL6YHVb9c/s1600-h/funny-pictures-you-cannot-go-anywhere-without-your-cat.jpg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_juu33Yb8L44/SO-ZTbY9zHI/AAAAAAAAAFo/xEjL6YHVb9c/s320/funny-pictures-you-cannot-go-anywhere-without-your-cat.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255587849213693042" /></a>Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8667365.post-17137904444260768562008-09-30T09:09:00.001-04:002008-09-30T09:27:59.562-04:00They said it best.<a href="http://www.theshiznit.co.uk/feature/ten-reasons-why-paul-newman-ruled.php?page=1">Ten Reasons Why Paul Newman Ruled.</a>Meginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01576932074069571216noreply@blogger.com0