Seasonal Sustenance

I feel so lucky to be dating a man who actually asks ME to go Christmas shopping with HIM. And who is secure enough (and loves his niece enough) to spend a whole 20 minutes in the pink-and-girly plastic-toys-with-hair aisle at a large and busy store on a Friday Night while we agonize over which MyLittlePony is the right one to give a well-loved four-year-old. And then he bought her two.

Also, there are three cats snoozing on my bed right now. Mostly because I turned the heater on in my room, and cats like to be warm. The grey boys are all curled up together in a ball on one end, and Abbigale rests in majesty on her heated pet-pad with the flannel pillowcase on it (washable) at the other end. And there is a bit of half-hearted eyes-closed paw-licking going on, which is the very best kind, except when they take turns cleaning each other's faces.

AND I think I've nearly gotten my monthly expenses for the new year down to something that one might actually be able to pay with a part-time or lower-wage job. It gives me options. And hope. And if I DO get a job that actually pays me what I'm worth-- then I'll be able to pay off all those darn debts THAT MUCH FASTER!! Which is a very exciting possibility.

Why is it that Christmas has become a time of death-gripping our concentration on money, of all things?! I find that appalling. I also recently found my "just-in-case" box of little gifts I picked up here and there over the past three years because I thought somebody might like them. And that box is saving my bacon this Christmas. YAY for being so excited about giving that I randomly buy maybe someone would like this gifts, and then store them until a time when I have no money and lots of people who need to know I love them. YAY!!! (and if you don't get a little gifty from me this year, know I still love you anyway...)

And the best news of the season? When I move in with GB, I'll get to bring most of my kitchen gear with me. And he'll treat it with the same careful respect he treats HIS stuff. I can't wait to have access to my kitchen gear again!! YAY!

And finally? I'm in the midst of the second step of the three-step process one goes through to make their book ready for publication. THE SECOND STEP, PEOPLE. As soon as I've gotten a solid 50 pages-- the first 50 pages-- ready to go, I can start applying for agents again. AND EVEN EXPECT TO GET ONE. It's going to be so awesome to finally see this book in print.

Well, 2009 was the Year of Integration. I wonder what 2010 will bring. I hope it's the year I get solid in my career. That'd be nice. Or maybe it'll be the year of being Centered and Balanced. Or the year of fruitful beginnings? I like fruit. Especially apples and dried bananas.

Seasonal Sustenance. What's in YOUR stocking this year??

Smashing

So the Family Reunion was a smashing success. And tomorrow-- or heck, maybe after I go to bed and get up again later this morning-- I'll tell you the story of the five-hour lunch we all had on Saturday. It was a bit like ... umm... well, actually I can't think of anything else like it.

As my best friend often reminds me, my family wrote the book on Crazy. The good news is that we all understand that loving someone (or many someones) is a choice-- and we all just keep on making that choice over and over again. Intentional insanity. I begin to suspect it's genetic. The same way that half of us is allergic to ground pepper. Blame Grampa Speck-- lord knows we all got it from him in the first place.

It's Own Self

Funny thing... I stopped trying to guess what would make others happy, stopped trying to control outcomes, and started simply stating my personal preferences directly as the day unfolded... And the outcomes started taking care of themselves. Today has been a wonderful day.

Had an awesome breakfast with GB around lunch time. Ordered what sounded good to me instead of worrying about the price. Acknowledged that I wasn't interested in watching one of his favorite shows-- knowing he can watch it when it replays on Friday. Was therefore not resentful about the time we spent watching TV. Petted cats for a while because they needed to be petted. Felt no need to justify my priorities to anyone.

Cleaned out my entire car in anticipation of lots of family and luggage fitting into it on Friday (yay!). Stopped worrying about identity theft and recycling and finally threw that huge-ass bag of junk mail in the trash. Ate a few bites of ice cream to cool me down. Cleaned out the plastic leftover food containers bin with my housemate like I've been promising to do for the last few months. Now everything that's left has a fitting lid, and the door to the bin actually closes. YAY!!!

Cooked the little organic corns from the food box, and had some really yummy greens (courtesy of my awesome roomie!!) Because I wanted greens, and I've been drooling in anticipation of that corn for nearly a week now... Decided not to stress that GB was late for our double-dinner-date with his friends I'd never met before... Only tried on two shirts in the process of getting ready. (And if I hadn't sweated out the one I had on, I'd have been ready to go just as I was. No more vacillating in front of the mirror as I try to look like the right kind of girlfriend. I'm me. Isn't that enough?!) Decided to send him a reminder text when he still didn't show up because I wanted to know what was going on. Good decision, as he'd gotten sucked into the world wide web, and was totally lost to reality 20 minutes after he'd planned to let me know he was on his way. Decided to read up about healthy relationships while I waited for him to finish getting ready and come pick me up for our double date.

Decided it is his worry and not mine if we are half an hour late the first time I meet his friends. Failed to worry. Had a total blast with GB and his friends at a really yummy bar with fuzzy black wall paper and the Kentucky Fried Colonel's photo in the place of honor over the restroom hallway. Felt just fine eating-but-n0t-drinking in a punked-out restaurant-bar. Had a good conversation about friendship and friends with GB after we took his awesome friends back to their apartment. Kicked him out when I started getting sleepy. Wrote a blog post about my day.

Started the laundry, and went to bed early enough that I won't be tired when I drive out to the Farm tomorrow morning. At least, that's the plan. Really, when I decided to make sure *I* was enjoying my life, life suddenly became so much easier to enjoy!

I think sometimes when you stop struggling to make the flow go your way, and just go with the flow that's already inside you... the rest takes care of itself.

Smack me Gently

So GB and I decided we'd be sneaky and avoid yesterday's blistering heat by driving to the Gorge and going for a hike by the waterfalls, in the shade. Of course, when we got there, we realized that everyone else had the same idea, only earlier in the day, so there were no parking places left.

Now, I'd spent a whole 8 hours the previous day in a hot little office with buzzing flies, no a/c, and a terrible lot of accounts that needed settling. And then I worked on job applications until midnight, when a girl supposedly got abducted just below my bedroom window (or saved from her drunk-ass self-- in this neighborhood, it could go either way, or it could be one of the local crazy men-- the one who likes to ride his bike and sing in falsetto at the top of his lungs, for example).

Anyway, there was frantic screaming of "don't touch me, you hurt me" followed by the slam of a car door, an engine driving away, and then silence. And apparently, I'm the only person in the whole freaking neighborhood who didn't have a functional fan that night and/or wasn't drunk out of their skull, so nobody else I've asked had heard the woman scream. At 1am, a neighbor lady I know went into her back yard, sang a little ditty about the cat and the fiddle, and then went back inside. I think that's what finally let me sleep. The neighborlady singing happily to herself in her garden after midnight on a Thursday.

And then I woke up freaking early because my cat had a sneezing fit all over my toes. So I was pretty darn grumpy by the time GB and I had stood in line for biscuits and bacon (for over an hour), sat on the increasingly hot front porch to EAT the biscuits (mine had applebutter, mmmm), drove to the Gorge, and then realized that neither of us knew what already-full parking lot area was the one for the hike we'd decided to take. (I love that my roommate not only KNOWS all the hikes in the entire pacific nw, but has books showing you what they look like and how long/strenuous they are, too!!) So I snapped at him a few times in the process of parking SOMEWHERE THAT MIGHT BE WHERE WE WERE GOING, and felt awful (but still grumpy) when he got really small and quiet on his side of the car.

But as soon as he'd loaded my sandals and my water and my other water and my purse and my emergency pack that looks like another purse into his backpack, and we were actually hiking, in a breeze, toward waterfalls-- I was able to shed my grumpy, and GB started talking to me and smiling again. And when we got to the part where the bridge was washed out and you had to scramble down where no path is or was, and then leapfrog across if you didn't want to get your hiking shoes soaked, and then scramble up again on the other side...

He totally stopped, scouted our chosen descent for poison oak (he thinks he might be immune at this point, but isn't going to test the theory and also REALLY didn't want me to suffer with it), and then also checked the whole potential crossing to make sure he wasn't asking me to do something too risky and uncomfortable. He went first, and tested each step, and warned me when a rock was tippy, and watched to make sure I got past that rock okay. And then when I had trouble with one of the actual leaps in the path he found across (as opposed to a long step from big flat rock to another rock), he held my hand and made sure I landed okay on the other side. Totally without making me feel like a wimp or a loser.

It's been a long time since I've had a guy take such good care of me. Like, maybe the last time was my dad when I was little. And GB wasn't trying to impress me or anything-- he's just that much of a considerate sweetie. I felt so cared about, and having him support me all the way down and across really built my trust for him. Like-- I felt it start to grow in a waivery uncertain way that told me really clearly how long it's been since I felt like it was safe to put my well-being in someone else's hands. The ex usually got me into a situation, and then ran on ahead impatiently while I struggled with fear, slippery rocks, and much shorter legs all by myself, mid-stream.

Total brownie points for the boy, and he didn't even know he was being awesome. Then we wandered upstream, past all the people sitting in the water to cool off, and found our way out to a big flat boulder in the middle of the river. It was a wonderfully cool, shady place to sit for a few minutes and talk about how we want one of these rivers-- for natural air conditioning purposes, as well as aesthetic value-- in our back yard someday.

Of course, once we'd survived the way-too-hot 2-mile hike back up and down and up and down to the ovencar, made our way home, showered off all the sweat and blisters from the hike, and were actually starting to FEEL the a/c in the room-- he smacked my ass so hard it left a red spot, which totally made him giggle every time I glared at him for the rest of the evening. I will never understand this man.

Ways of Being

I had an interesting conversation with a friend this weekend. We talked about the difference between having goals to work toward, and working on new ways of being in the world. She had a pretty convincing argument, so I thought I'd share.

We often talk about our latest goals, or the goal we are focusing on in the moment. Somehow, this places not only our efforts but also our accomplishments outside of ourselves. If you want to earn top ratings in your company this quarter-- whatever your company likes to rate-- that's a goal.

It's you working on something totally separate from your SELF, and with both a goal and a reward that are pretty impersonal. They might give you a year-end bonus that you can spend on a trip to Maui or something... but they don't really change who you are or how hard you'll have to work next quarter if you want the same results. Losing weight, getting up earlier-- these feel like similar goals. Things you can measure by looking at the scale or the clock or the nightly news. Looking outside yourself for both expectation and outcome.

Ways of being are harder to measure, harder to change-- and yet when we do improve our way of being, every aspect of our life gets a little bit easier, clearer, more functional.

Example: Several years ago, I wanted to change my way of being-- I wanted to be healthy. And I really examined what that meant for me. How I would be in the world, and what about my lifestyle or my thought process or my daily activities needed to change in order for me to live in a way that feels healthy to me. And to be honest, I'm still working on it.

I wanted to be pain-free in my body most days. I wanted to be able to lift moving boxes and heavy bags of kitty litter without hurting myself. I wanted to feel that I had a chance of defending myself from harm if I were ever attacked in a dark parking lot at night.

I wanted to feel connected to the Earth. I wanted to be connected to my own feelings and intuition so that I could USE them to keep myself healthy, safe, sane. I wanted to respect myself enough to pay attention to my needs, and work on meeting them. I wanted to get rid of my adult acne, and keep up with my friends on long hikes in the hills without complaint. These, to me, were the measuring sticks of my improved way of being. If I could do these things, I'd be living the life I want to live-- the way I want to be in the world.

So I took time to examine my lifestyle, and look for things I could do with very little money and no health insurance-- to improve my way of being healthy in the world. I started meditating. I read about the root chakra that is our connection to our physical body, to the earth, and to our internalized messages of security and sturdiness. I spent a few minutes every time I realized I was tired, or in pain, or sick, or pissy-- and tried to figure out WHY. What could I learn in that moment about my SELF and my physical needs. What cues had my body given me before I reached this point? Maybe next time I could do something BEFORE I got this tired, this uncomfortable.

I started walking a couple of times a week, looking at trees and birds and clouds when I walked. And I tried to change my sleeping habits so that I got a fairly reliable seven hours of sleep a night. Then eight. Then nine. I really feel rested if I get nine hours of sleep a night. I don't always manage it. And I know most people don't need that much. But I do. And I'm learning to respect my body's needs enough to be healthy. I also realized I had formed an unhealthy dependency on pain killers and sleeping pills to manage my pain from an old car accident.

Some folks do legitimately need medicine, and if you need it? TAKE IT. But so many more of us take meds we don't need because it is easier than dealing with the problem that the meds help us ignore. I decided to consult a doctor friend on the healthiest way to reduce my dependence on my particular prescription medicines. I knew it would be dangerous to stop cold-turkey. Then, I cut my dose by 1/3 on a Friday, so I'd have the weekend to cope. The next Friday, I cut the daily dose in half. And because I was so cranky by then, I told a few people what I was doing so they wouldn't take my attitude personally.

I stayed at that level of dosage for almost a month. This wasn't about meeting a goal. This was about finding ways to be healthy. So I didn't have a set timeline. Instead, I waited until I wasn't so scared by the side effects I had with reducing my dosage. I picked a time when I knew I didn't have to do any driving or anything important for four or five days in a row. And I had some non-chemical pain-management options ready to use. Things my doctor friend had suggested, or that I'd learned about when I studied alternative medicine-- healing herbal teas and yoga for pain and such.

I started on those new things the first day. I stopped taking prescription meds the second day, with an over-the-counter pain med just to ease myself into it a little more. By the third day, I was using pain management techniques, an no pills. By the fifth day, I felt better than I had in years. I know I was lucky to break my dependence so easily. Oddly enough, I have fewer painful days now than I ever did when I was on pain medicine. I get more rest from my sleep, too.

I'm still working on the acne. Managing it requires overcoming my life-long addiction to sugar-foods. But I'm also proud of the progress I've made in listening to my body's needs, and maintaining some sort of regular exercise. And when I exercise, I listen to my body so I don't over-do or re-injure myself. If I start to feel tired, I take iron pills and vitamin C and garlic. I try to manage my body temperature, and give my body extra sleep and extra water to help fight off any virus germs. I'm not sick nearly as often as I used to be. And I feel more alive. More connected to the Earth and to myself. I even keep up with my friends when we hike.

I guess improving my health wasn't so much a goal as a way of being in the world. It wasn't about crazy diets or binge exercising. It wasn't about denying myself or punishing myself. It was about getting to know myself better, and then making informed decisions. It was about learning to accept what my body needs to be healthy-- and not what I think it should need, should look like, should do for me. It was about learning to be compassionate-- at least about my health-- with my SELF. And THAT is one of the hardest lessons for a person to learn. To be good to themselves, without punishment, judgment, or unhappy indulgence.

Anyway, I guess I agree with my friend (PC) that goals are really NOT the same thing as ways of being. As that one song says... "the way you do the things you do..." And it was interesting to think back on that period of my life, and how fugged my health was at that point. How much progress I've made since then.

...YAY ME!

Addicticism

So talk about your roller coasters!
They finally force-fed my kitty at the vet's right before I came to see her at the end of the day. Then they sent me (and her!!!) home with a bunch of kitty opiate oral liquid pain-killers, and some pepcid. And orders to call with updates, and especially to keep track of her food intake. Of which there wasn't any.

She finally daned to use her litter box for the first time around 8am this morning. I've never been so excited about my cat's peeing habits before, let me tell you. And when I got out another dose of the pain meds, she ran over to me so I could give it to her. RAN OVER TO ME. FOR MEDICINE.

I think she's addicted. Seriously. Of course, being a tortie, that didn't mean she'd actually let me GIVE her the medicine-- she just let herself be caught so I could pry her mouth open, shove the gunk in, clamp her jaw shut, and stroke her throat while she tried to bite off her own tongue. Sigh.

So I was hopeful. Until the Vet called. The final test came back, the CDC (whatever the heck that is, it costs a hundred dollars) and it turns out her white blood cell count is horribly low. So We made an appointment to take her back into the doctor's for another test. This one was to see if she had either feline leukemia or kitty AIDS. Those being the most likely reasons for a low white blood cell count, apparently.

The drama of library conferences has NOTHING on this, folks.

But luckily, I had a massage scheduled (in trade for other work, so neither of us had to come up with cash, thank goodness!) for this morning. So I went ahead and had that done. Unluckily, I realized when my masseuse was a few minutes late that I wasn't going to make it to the vet on time, so I had to reschedule that by a half-hour. Luckily, the noon appointment time was still available. And my cat was still fairly stogned and pliant when I got home to put her in the cat carrier.

Apparently, she was also much calmer about getting her blood drawn this time around. And it only took ten minutes to get the test results back. She is evil illness-free, as far as we can tell. Luckily, it is NEITHER feline leukemia NOR kitty HIV. Unluckily, we still don't know what it IS. I have strict instructions from my vet (who also owns a tortie) to call her with updates.

And LUCKILY, I have a very wonderful update to report. As soon as we got home, she got out of the cat carrier, wandered over to the wet food that has been sitting hopefully in my room for the past few hours, and licked it a few times before wandering back to her blanket in front of the space heater. FOOD!!! She ate a bite of FOOD!!! That's more than she's eaten of her own volition in three days! WAHHOOOO!!!!

And I have finally got some hope back that she'll recover from this insane trip of hers.
Thanks for all your good thoughts, everyone. We both needed them for a while. Maybe we still do. But at the moment, Abbigale is curled up on my bed in the sun pretending that her little fore-arm isn't shaved and listening carefully, just in case I venture over to the pain medicine again. Because, as I said, she REALLY LIKES that pain medicine.

So, basically, nearly a thousand dollars I didn't have later, the only thing we know for sure is that she had some really painful gas, stopped eating, got really dehydrated, and is now hooked on pain killers. Not necessarily in that order. ...sigh.

Nu Nu Nu

The paint went up on the walls today! Special low VOC paint, in Apple Green. The glass shade on the torchier broke in my car on the way there, too, but that's beside the point. Turns out, somebody has two comfortable chairs sitting in her garage because they need a new home, too. So now they're going to be my client chairs. Awesome, but still not the point. The point is-- tomorrow I finally move into my new office. I'm so excited, I could sing. Loudly. Those old tunes they used to play really loudly at the roller rink on Thursday nights.

:"My-mymymymy Miiiiiyyyyy SHERONA!!... Take me on an- ESSSScaPADE...and Let your Body GOOO with the FLOOO, just do ihhht.... and ROCK around the CLOCK tonight, VOGUE!":

Yeah. THAT excited.

It's the funniest little space, too. The only square corners are where the wall meets the ceiling-- an ugly pock-marked drop-down ceiling with really evil florescent lights in it. Which will soon be covered up by a really nice natural cotton curtain I bought at IKEA. We love IKEA. We also love my new officemate with the two chairs for my clients, and my main officemate whose husband did the painting for me today, and the awesome Apple Green paint. Yes! We do.

So now I'm going to bed. So that tomorrow, when I get up, I'll be ALL SET to move into my NEW OFFICE!!!! YAY!!! (and paint a lot of dark green leaves on the walls and find a way to haul one of my bookshelves from my storage unit to my office and find all my packed books about alternative healing that are somewhere in that storage unit-- hopefully in the same place as my flannel sheets are packed. I'd really like to find a second set of sheets for my bed here sometime.) YAY!!

Self-Offense

I'm becoming more and more aware of the ways in which women often punish and/or defend ourselves in situations where we feel we don't HAVE power or control or even basic rights.

As my business grows, I'm working with more and more women who have used food as a method of having control in their lives. They punish themselves for not being good enough by not eating. They over-eat to feel comforted and to fill an emotional void in their lives; they often become grossly overweight as a defense against rape and other sexual encounters they don't want to face.

We tell ourselves that we are not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not curvaceous enough, not smart enough, not accomplishing enough, not ENOUGH-- and in doing so, we limit ourselves so that nobody can do it to us. We don't want to give that power away, too. We don't want the criticism that women sometimes receive when we take risks, acknowledge our strengths and abilities, attempt change, rock the boat. There are enough critics in our lives already.

I'm learning that these patterns of behavior-- the self-criticism, and self-limiting; the over-eating and the starvation diet-- more and more, these are cropping up among men as well. And since these are "women's diseases" men often have an even harder time admitting that the problem exists, or understanding why, let alone seeking help to make positive changes and enact healthy patterns.

As a society, we cut ourselves off from feelings. From feeling too deeply, from recognizing our emotions and our reactions to our life experiences (especially the traumatic ones!). We ignore the messages our bodies try to send us in the form of felt aches, pains, and nausea. We get so caught up in trying to be smart and world-savvy that we ignore our own inner wisdom. We lose touch (if we ever found it to begin with) with our inner selves.

Sometimes we are so out of touch with our feelings that we fail to react in fight-or-flight situations; we don't get angry when we are mistreated, or we simply assume that we must have done SOMETHING to deserve the anger directed at us by another, the dismissal of our concerns and of our priorities.

And our internal criticism of our own not-enoughness becomes cruel. There is no pause to ask WHY we couldn't do 100 crunches at our twice-daily workout on Tuesday... after not eating for three days and then staying up all night to study for a class that we're taking after our 40-60-hour work week; caring for our households; caring for our families. Caring for everything but ourselves.

When is it time to care for ourselves? When do we pause and ask ourselves who has judged us-- where that criticism we are using as our measuring stick has come from... And then ask ourselves who has the right to determine our individual worth-- our individual definitions of a successful life. Most of the time, we begin by looking outside of ourselves for approval of our choices, our values, our style of dress and our sense of humor. We look outside of ourselves for clues about what we are supposed to do, who we are supposed to be, and what our reward for "getting it right" should look like. And none of it makes us very happy.

You see, until you have a good relationship with YOURSELF, until you like yourself and figure out what sort of a life would make YOU happy-- chances are, you won't be. It is a risk-- taking responsibility for our own choices and our own happiness. Back to the Cinderella Complex again, really. Hoping someone else will come along and save us from all this.

It's a risk to feel all those feelings that you've repressed or didn't even know you were having for so many years. What if they overwhelm you? Why are you suddenly getting ANGRY all the time?? Well... it's your body finally balancing out. All the emotions you ignored didn't go away-- they just got packed and compressed and repressed into this little box, and when you release the catch on the lid, it springs open and all the unfulfilled unhappy feelings come rushing out. ...But then, the box is empty. It no longer sits there oozing poison and secret shames, feeding your bodily illnesses and emotional instabilities and dependencies on people or on substances or on food-management.

There is finally space for you to learn new coping skills, to learn to recognize when you are having an emotion, and what emotion it is, and maybe even begin to recognize that there is probably a GOOD REASON for you to be having that emotion. Listening to yourself. Deciding how you want to act, now that you have all the information available to you. Befriending and trusting yourself. Accessing your inner wisdom. ...learning to love yourself as an imperfect and wonderful individual... Learning the joy of working toward a lifestyle and a decision-making process that will actually make you HAPPY!! Happy to be alive. Happy to be here, and do that, with people who appreciate you for YOU, and who share similar aspirations and a similar respect for you that you are learning to have yourself.

...If you don't learn to respect and love yourself-- to feel that your needs and your goals and your values and your decisions are important... nobody else will either. Make a different choice. And remember that even if the people you love and currently interact with don't support your goal of finding and appreciating yourself... someone else will. You are worth waiting for, worth searching for, worth working to find. Worth listening to. But this time, you get to do the waiting, working, listening and searching for yourself. It is deliciously empowering to put your energy and efforts to work in pursuit of your OWN GOALS-- and very few of the women I know have ever done this consciously. Intentionally.

Live intentionally. Live joyfully. Live your own life.
Dance on top of the world.
Please.

Whydoi

I have to laugh at myself. Often.

For example, when it comes to dating, I've learned just how easy it is to have very conflicting wants. I've met a man who actually likes to talk, and listen, and to whom I like to talk and listen, too. But last night, after making marketing calls for a couple of hours, and then coaching for a couple of hours, my throat hurt, and the idea of talking to anyone about anything made my voice and my brain hurt.

So, instead of calling CatMan, and falling into a long conversation, I emailed him. And said how much I did NOT want to talk. I didn't clarify that talking to ANYONE would have been unappealing, and I was so tired that I doubt my email would have made much rational sense to anyone. I also think I asked him out to a movie this weekend. But I couldn't swear to that.

This morning? The first thing I did was RUSH to email to see if he'd responded yet. Responded to what? My apparent desire not to interact with him? ...before 7am on a work day?

And then I started to laugh. Last time I checked, my life was about me. And being tired and taking care of myself was a GOOD thing. I'd forgotten how easy it is to get swept into relationship, and how hard I find it to think of myself and my needs when I'm in relationship with someone I really care about. The good news is that I noticed myself being silly, and can now make a different choice.

So I'll call CatMan when he gets home from work tonight, and maybe we can enjoy a good conversation then. I think it'll be okay. I think maybe we don't have to call out the Nagtional Guard on this one. You think?

I Need You, Larry!

It's been a strange day. I planned to be up around 7:45am, writing in my journal, preparing for my noon interview with a university back east, cleaning up the stuff I displaced when I finally bought more shelving because I couldn't stand to have all that stuff in a pile on the floor...

Instead, I finally woke up around 9:3oam, to the yowling of the (either highly intelligent or somewhat suffering from altzeimers) cat upstairs. He's 19, and stiff, and somewhat lost at times. But he knows he likes sunshine, kitty treats with glycocemine, and people. In that order. As a side note, I'd just like to mention that spell-check does not have either altzeimers or glycocamine in it, and therefore I have no bloody clue how to spell them. Grow with Love, dammit. Up to this morning, he's only yowled like that when someone forgot he was outside, and left the house without letting him back in. Or, when they left the house without letting him back in, and he didn't realize they'd propped the door open so he could get back in on his own.

This morning? He yowled because he wanted someone to come pet him, and he's come to realize that if he yowls, and I know no one is home upstairs, I come running upstairs. I tried all three upstairs outside doors (in my nightgown, freezing my tucas off) before a little "prrrt" from my neighbor's bedroom lead me to finding him quite calmly stretched out on the bed, waiting to be petted. Huh.

I had the interview at noon. It went fairly well, though I forgot to ask an important question or two-- and the whole thing only lasted about 20 minutes. Huh. Sounds like a fun position to learn and grow in, really. There in the middle of the back-country Pennsylvania with 800 students, one other librarian, and me. If I get the job. And, strangely enough, YET AGAIN, my having a background relating to the military (I was married to it for several years) was a bonus. Apparently, this library has a LOT of Vets for students. Resistance is, apparently, futile.

By the time the interview ended, I was shaking. And I don't remember doing that after past interviews. Quite possibly, I blocked it from my memory so that I could be up-beat about having MORE interviews. Anyway, from that point on, everyone I came into contact with was justifiably grumpy about something in their lives that I have no ability to help them fix. It was very disempowering, really.

And then I managed to get my energy and excitement up for my long-awaited once-monthly Journaling Group (I totally choked last month and only remembered I'd forgotten to go about five days after the fact-- not pretty, especially since I'd arranged to meet someone before the group meeting last month. Oops. ....I think I was reading a book...)--- My Journaling Group ROCKS-- but it's hard to wait a whole month between sessions. And then I got totally lost trying to find my way there from a new direction-- after my upstairs neighbor had even TOLD me how to get there by making a total of two turns-- and I still got lost. TWO TURNS, people!! So, there I am, not the 20 minutes early I'd intended to be, frantically searching for parking.... hoping the place I parked is actually legal to park in after 6pm (before 6pm, it's a loading zone)... RUNNING up to the door...

And it's canceled due to a death in the family. I ache for the family. I really do. But I also have this feeling of inevitability that I've probably gone to my last session of that Journaling Group-- three months ago-- and I didn't even know it. Driving away from the building (no parking ticket in the five minutes I was parked there, thank goodness!), I felt really just DOWN about things. I could actually feel myself falling into a blue funk, and I was kinda pissed about it, to be honest. And me feeling both pissed AND funked is not a friendly sight. Really. Right up there with hung-over walruses and snot-nosed over-tired toddlers and parole officers who run into their charges while on vacation and things. Not Friendly.

So I went to H Street. Where I've had other fun adventures, thinking maybe MAYBE something there would still be open after 7pm on a Tuesday to cheer me up. Maybe. And it turns out that not a whole lot is open after 7pm on a Tuesday. But the ice cream shop and the bookstore are open until 9pm, so hey. Life can't be THAT bad, right? I chose to stop at the book store first. And went in. And found the "travel adventure" section. And picked up a book about a Native Alaskan woman Hero. Who, it turns out, died in poverty, suffering from four broken marriages, TB, and a lot of really bad press from the families of these white men she went into the Arctic wilderness with back in the early 1900's-- and two years later, after nearly starving to death with a sick member of the expedition who was left behind due to lack of food, she was the only one who made it back to civilization. Ever. Ummm... not exactly the pick-me-up I'd been looking for.

By then, even Ice Cream had lost it's appeal, and I felt like spending money frivolously was bad... and so... I headed home. In a grumpy blue funk, with an unhealthy side of guilt and depression brought on by this stupid book. But somehow, I just could NOT go back into the house with this big blue depressive grumpy funk on my shoulders, and the cure had to happen for under $5 and not be too fattening. So I stopped in at this awesome gourmet little corner store about a mile past my little apartment. They have the best of all things that you might possibly think a corner store should have, at a price to match the rather haughty location. I mean hand-dipped designer candles in all twelve shades of green, and specialty chocolates, and organic produce, and not-quite-cuban cigars, and ... all of it in this little corner store. So I go in there, hoping to find something that will cheer me up, and I wander around, and wander around, and wander around, and...

Suddenly, over the PA system, comes a man's sturdy voice:
If anybody needs anything, just page Larry. I'm available.

... Huh.
...maybe I need to page Larry...

And just that quickly, my funk and my grump and even my guilty depression are GONE!
I love you, Larry.

About two seconds later, someone did come on the PA, and make it clear that
"I need you, Larry!"

And about a minute after that, the PA came to life yet again, with a man's sturdy voice:
If anybody REALLY needs anything, just page Larry. I'm available.

...Larry, you ROCK!!! I went and found myself a little pack of dark chocolate M&Ms and a nice ocean-mist-blue tapered candle, (all for under $5) and headed home with a big goofy smile on my face. Life is good, dammit. All it needed was Larry.

96... And Counting

So, much to my amazement, this is officially my 96th post on my err-what blog. Watch for national news coverage when I hit post #100... or not...

Did I bump into Mr. Nice Eyes at the Garden when I went back on Friday? no. But the leaves were all turning color, and the air was crisp but not snot-cold (you know when it's cold enough to make your nose run, even though you are perfectly warm in your fleece vest and ear-warmers? snot-cold), and I'm really glad I went. Turns out the guy in the entrance box has a mother who used to be a librarian. So even though my school STILL has not sent me a student id (have I mentioned that I graduate in two months?), I answered three questions right and got in at the student rate anyhow. Just to clarify-- I AM a student. ...And I like red heads.

Did my student loan eventually show up? YES! On Wednesday. So I made huge payments to my credit cards and spent what was left on that stereo I promised myself back in July. I should be getting the other half of my student loan ...oh... sometime before Christmas.

In the meantime, I cannot BEGIN to tell how you much I have missed having access to music in my home. In fact, I have barely turned the stereo off long enough to sleep since I brought it home. I'M THAT EXCITED!!!

It made me think. My ex was always the one who played music (and chose what to play) while I was married-- and to give credit where due, he sometimes tried to play something he thought we'd both like to hear. Mostly, he played the soundtrack to Jay and Silent Bob. There's a whole track devoted to artistically rapping the word "fugck." And a few songs about being high and all the things that didn't happen because of it (like getting to have segx). And... well... I mostly ignored the other tracks because they were rather offensive.

So... let me just reiterate how HAPPY I am to have MY OWN STEREO. It's been five years. Plus. And I've been playing awesome music like the "happy radio station" that only plays upbeat songs, and my rodrigo y gabriela CD-- this group is from Mexico, where they were a heavy metal band. But then they went to Ireland, and started playing guitar in local pubs and on the streets there. Now, they play acoustic guitar like I've never heard it played. Oh, and I'm playing my Enya music, and trying REALLY HARD not to break out the Christmas music again-- waiting until November, at least. I mean, really. June and December are the real seasons for that kind of music, and I'm trying not to jump the gun.... Trans Siberian Orchestra, HERE I COME!!!

My Shania Twain and Carrie Underwood are sounding pretty good, too, not to mention that Kid Rock CD I took as part of my divorce settlement. I love the duet with Sheryl Crow. Umm... A little Stray Cats, a little Sugar Ray... Cap'n Bogg and Salty... Dvorak... Godsmack... Jet... Gypsie Kings... Pink... Yeah. You could say my taste is eclectic. Or bizarre.

Qwack-Qwack

Okay. If you haven't gone out and read Kiss My Tiara by Susan Jane Gilman, DO IT NOW. But only if you are fairly certain you are a woman.

Because then you will understand when I refer to such-and-such as just another Qwack-Qwack notion. Like fake leather thong bikinis. Or tattoo'd on makeup. Or diet twinkies. Or nylon pantyhos. I mean, really. Who invented this sort of rediculous torture, anyhow?!

And honestly, who wouldn't love to have a grandmother who says things like, "Take a few lovers, travel the world, and don't take any crap." (page xiii-- reading the forward is vital to understanidng what comes next. See?) So, like I said, go borrow a book from the local library. And make sure the title is Kiss My Tiara. Or, if you can't find that, I have it on good authority that you could easily settle for Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress instead.

The Ono Fish

Ummm... so, yeah, it was my birthday yesterday. My goal was to spend a few hours in meditation, thinking about who I am and what I'm doing. It felt like an appropriate time to be doing that. Instead, what seems to have happened, is that I was aware of the way I spent my time during the day. I really thought about what I'm doing with my life in a more "here and now" sense-- because "what I'm doing with my life" isn't about my goals-- it's about each day lived.

And I realized that I get to read books to little kids who smile at me and like to hold conversations with me-- and who are already learning (at the age of 2) how cool the "libbery" can be. I'm very proud of that. I feel it's time well-spent, for all my complaining about the long hours. I realized that filling and emptying the dishwasher is a fact of life, and I posted a quote from one of my favorite blogs--

"Cleaning isn't just an obligation. It's also a way to honor your life, a way to show yourself you're worth that much effort. ...I'm working on that one."

It made me stop and think about all the ways you can honor your life, and how I'm not doing any of them right now. And I decided that I actually am worth the effort, and I actually do want to honor my life. And if that means putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher every day, then I can do that. And if that means running the a/c for a few minutes so I can brew a cup of tea on a hot day, then I can do that.

And if that means taking the time to finally look up the name/location of a women's shelter so I can donate the rest of the stuff I've decided to get rid of to them instead of Goodwill, and TAKING THE TIME TO DROP THE STUFF OFF THERE, then I can do that, too. I want the file cabinet out of my entry way. I deserve to walk into my apartment without running into things, tripping on things, or knocking things over.

And then I went to one of my favorite stores to meet my family for dinner. I found out that my all-time favorite candle that only they carry and that lasts 50 hours, and has never dripped and made a wax puddle on my floor or my table, and that doesn't smoke, and doesn't tip over, and is just PERFECT because it only costs $5... well, they've discontinued making it. But the nice helper-lady looked at other stores and found 15 of them for me at other stores, and they're being shipped to my home. I figured if this is my last chance to get ahold of my favorite candle, I'm not messing around. Of all the candles I've ever bought, this is the one I keep lighting.

And dinner with my mom, papa, and aunt was great. I had the opportunity to realize that where I come from is a part of who I am. And I finally had a group of people who all go whole-hog with Ottohumor and there was no one there to roll their eyes and be disgusted with us for deciding that hero-ono fish was a super hero who changed his mind, fell (o-no!), and sorta splatted into the water... well, you get the picture. It was fun to be a family for a bit.

And then I got home and had time for myself. That was interesting, too. I was so tired after working ten hours and having quality social time for two hours after that... the one thing that really rose out of my quiet time is that I'm about to be done with school. I'm about to emerge into the world of self-supporting professionals. And in many ways, it will be a rebirth for me. A whole new start in the world, with new goals and new priorities and new lessons to learn. I'm really looking forward to that.

For now, though, I'm going to move through my day with joy, and spend time with good friends. I can't think of a better gift to start my new year than that.

Pumpkins

I just found the most AWESOME set of blogs! The kick-off blog is called Three Beautiful Things, and it's author has started a revolution. The 3BT revolution. You will now see it as one of my labels on a regular basis. I love this idea. LOVE IT!

The other two spin-offs (much encouraged) of the original that I've found so far-- and love-- are called Simple Things, and Pumpkin Diary. I think H&J will especially appreciate the Pumpkin Diary, as it is a first-time father's account of his first child-- from conception to 2 years, so far.

The idea is that each blogger will start a blog section, new post, what have you in which they make a commitment to post three things that brought them joy or made them smile every day. POSITIVE REINFORCEMENT, PEOPLE! I love it. So-- in honor of this delicious find, here are my three things of the day:
-Three Beautiful Things
-Simple Things
-Pumpkin Diary

YAY!

About Dehydration

So... one of the many lessons I learned far away and long ago... was that I am infinitely more depressed when I am also dehydrated and lacking in sleep. Yes. I am now ready to take on the world again, and possibly even profess to being an actual ADULT... now that I've had more water to drink, a bit of exercise, and a good night's sleep. Yes.

I have to credit my friend, MB, with this revelation. She was a great font of wisdom about dealing with a divorce-- especially a long, painful divorce. Is there any other kind? She explained that for her, eating protein was the key to keeping a positive can-do outlook on the situation. Her mom was good about reminding her to eat more protein whenever she started to get gloomy or overwhelmed, and it helped. Her body needed what it needed to deal with the stress it was under-- and this ability to deal (or inability to deal) carried over to her psyche as well.

For me, it wasn't protein. It was water and sleep. I got through the first six months-- three of them waiting for the divorce to be final, and three figuring out how to be successfully divorced-- by drinking a LOT of water, and taking a LOT of naps. I highly recommend the naps, by the way. Low calorie, high fiber-- especially if you dream about food and end up eating your pillowcase-- and just generally restorative. IF you remember to drink a lot of water and/or turn on the A/C before you nap.

On the other hand, everything I said I was struggling with yesterday is STILL TRUE TODAY-- I just know I will persevere and overcome them now. And I've gleefully defenestrated my fears. Officially. Ceremonially. Repeatedly. The sliding glass door in the living room. It's the only one that opens.

On the more good news front, I met my new buddy E in east downtown today and after making friends with her really cute dog, we checked out a WHOLE NEW FARMER'S MARKET. Found garlic tops. mmmmmmm Found chard. Little chards. mmmmmm Found basil. doublemmmm Found hershey's kisses-shaped candles made of pure beeswax. Found we had a lot to talk and laugh and commiserate with each other about. Especially mothers and weird food combinations. Had a blast. Got a little dehydrated. Learned my lesson-- so I've been chugging water all afternoon to make up for it.

Plus Hood Strawberries. My favorite kind. I find I've degenerated into a highly evolved strawberry snob. Did that make ANY sense at ALL?? Hmmm... must be time to go eat more strawberries and ice cream... and drink some water. Maybe a nap...

Getting Fresh

Can I just tell you how MUCH I love fresh strawberries? With Nutella? And Farmer's Markets. Those rock too. Big rocks. This week, at the Farmer's Market, I found a guy who makes fresh pesto-- in five awesome varieties. Fresh pesto. And strawberries. But not together, please.

I also want to share with you the fact that I am now the proud owner of two identical pairs of khaki pants, appropriate for a professional work environment. Why two? Because it's the first time ... EVER... that I have found professional-looking machine washable khaki pants that don't gape at the back of the waist, don't have really big poofy pleats that make me look pregnant or REALLY CONSTIPATED, and don't need to be hemmed by about 8 inches so I can walk. And they were on sale for about $16 each. So I bought both pairs. I feel that the universe loves me.

So, dude, if you hear me complaining about ANYTHING in the next week or two? Just remind me that I found fresh strawberries, home made pesto, and machine-washable khaki pants ALL IN THE SAME WEEK, and I have nothing to complain about. Nothing.

Not even the fact that my semester ends in less than two weeks, and I have five-- count FIVE-- final projects of various sorts to complete in that time frame. Yes. And I'm going to be eating strawberries with Nutella while I do it.

Tripping

Yeah. So. Ever have one of those weeks where you realize that if you could just get out of your own way, things would be great? One of those weeks where your plans and outlook are changing so fast and so often than you end up with mild case of roller-coaster stomach? One of those weeks were all those puzzle pieces that have been driving you MAD for the last month because there just wasn't a place for them-- suddenly fit perfectly, and the puzzle is complete, and you really aren't sure how that happened, but okay? Yeah, me too.

I'm in an interesting point of my life. The end of my schooling is in sight. I just might get there in one piece, and with a few quality references, too. The ants are (for the moment) GONE from my home, and even my little Jack Sprouts are looking healthy again. I have two great internship opportunities on the horizon, both of which I'll be able to take advantage of, and I think I've managed to maintain a positive relationship with each of my future supervisors, even though every time I communicate with them, something changes and I get to trip over my own feet as I back up a step. I'm nearly caught up on school work for the semester, and the end of that-- too-- is in sight.

On top of that, I went to the bookstore yesterday and browsed their "bargain" section, and found a couple of things that I've been wanting, and will really find useful in the future... at really REALLY good prices. I got a phone call from my work-family last night, too, and they still absolutely love me. (I'm super glad of that, because I love working with them, and my schedule of availability just got complicated.) I have a great hike planned with friends this coming weekend. I had a delightful little bonfire last night. My official library-student blog is about to begin, and they liked my first couple of possible blog entries. And... my cat is sleeping peacefully in another room so I can type this without interference. It's a beautiful world.

Oh-- and I'm back to thinking I'll be a Children's Public Librarian... and work on my tapestry quilts (possibly as bags/vests, too) on the side to supplement that... and who knows, maybe someone will pay me to blog for them at that point, too. I'd love that. Blogging Rocks. It's all about the journey, my friends. It's also all about remembering to breathe and not getting too stressed until you know what direction you're actually headed. Then you can sit back a bit and enjoy the trip. Just don't forget to watch the road if you're the one driving.

And by the way, if you like corny movies and comedy-action-romances like I do...
I've added National Treasure to my list. Mazel Tov.

Circles and Arrows, and a Paragraph on the Back of Each One

Went to my dad's 60th "Old Guys" party today. His label, not mine. He and mom invited everyone they could locate (or were actually still in contact with) from their days living and teaching in a town long ago and far away. And, as a nod to who they used to be, and what they all used to do together, they made it a potluck (like the ones I vaguely remember from my pre-school days) and Dad baked his famous oatmeal cookies with the Secret Ingredient.

Seeing those cookies on the counter when I arrived let me know just HOW IMPORTANT this event was for him-- because the combined efforts of the entire extended family have only convinced him to make these cookies about three times in the past 15 years. Yeah.

When you think about it, turning 60 is the new turning 50, really. Life perspective and life goals change. Talk of latest medical procedures or tests escalates. You start to think that maybe it's time to hire that kid down the street to mow the back yard. You take up yoga or biking. You eat less and take vacations more. If you're my Dad, you take Mom kayaking and finally buy a bigger TV. In your free time, you give detailed lectures to anyone who will listen about exactly what you plan to do with that brown spot in the grass that never goes away.

Seeing those oatmeal cookies today, I realized that those specific cookies are a symbol of comfort and of family continuity for me. They are a symbol of my childhood and my dad's love for the people around him. He only made cookies when there were people he loved to share them with- a lot of people. And when I was little, the coolest part was when he'd tell us he ALMOST FORGOT to put the Secret Ingredient in this time, but he remembered at the last minute, and that's why the cookies turned out so good. Again.

Actually, a lot of my family celebration/familial love memories center around cookies. Like the first time I actually one-up'd my dad, the quintessential one-upper. I was two. It was awesome.

So there we were, making cookies together-- me and my Dad! He'd rolled out the dough, and gotten the baking sheet greased, and there were the two cookie cutter shapes he'd picked out for us to work with, and I actually was going to HELP COOK. He set me up on the counter by the dough, and gave me the circle cookie cutter. Then he explained the general idea of using a cookie cutter to make shapes in the dough. Fair enough. WHOP! I thumped that circle down in the MIDDLE OF THE DOUGH. He almost had a heart attack right there in front of me. I remember-- very clearly-- that he actually shoved his fingernails into his mouth to keep from screaming.

So then he gently and carefully explained about fitting as many circles into the rolled-out dough as you could-- very carefully-- because you didn't want to RE-roll it out too many times. It made the cookies rise funny or something. Fair enough. WHOP! WHOP! WHOP!!

It was about then that his face turned purple, and his eyes got about as big as his glasses-frames. Ay-Yi-YIE! Then he actually looked at the circles I'd cut in the dough. With fear. He really thought that little 2-year-old me (who was being trusted to help Dad Cook for the first time ever) had just completely ignored his careful directions. Silly Daddy.

I'd placed those three circles right on the edge of the rolled-out dough, so close together that the edges just touched, in about half a second. Papa blinked a few times, and then handed me the other cookie cutter to try out, and got busy putting my perfect circles onto the tray to bake.

There's even a picture that my mom took around that time in my life-- of me and my Dad, covered in flour, hunched together over a rolled out piece of cookie dough. I'm sitting on the counter on the left, he's leaning against the counter on the right, and the cookie cutter is flying.

Catina Rug

The intrepid explorer strikes again!



















This tapestry quilt hasn't been sewn together yet, hence the pins and lack of quilting lines. I call it Elemental. The four little gold squares are actually candles, and will have hand-sewn "flames" above them. As soon as I go shopping for thread. And more bobbins. It's amazing how many bobbins a self-respecting machine quilter needs to keep on hand! Did you know they even make different SIZES of bobbins? Yeah. So you have to be careful when you buy more. Most machines I've come across only take one size of bobbin. But WHICH ONE??

I'm really loving this tapestry quilt... It's going to be hard to part with. I've got a pretty good average going, though. I've only kept the very first one (also not finished yet), called FairyTails, and given (or will give once complete) the next three away-- and I have one that will be for sale once I finish it. This one is called Light Sources. It'll be going up for sale soon. Yes, you can still see pins on this one, too.




Abbigale, the intrepid explorer, has returned successfully from her mission, just in time to help me type this. Her chin has taken up residence just above the space bar.
...Due to unforeseen demands, the rest of this blog will have to be postponed indefinitely, or at least until after I pet the cat.

FYI: It ain't that bad.

FYI, if you read "Just Perfect," and are wondering what exactly inspired my most recent rant... I just spent $225 on a razor phone because it is supposed to be thin and easy to use. Only it is actually a pretty large phone, and you have to buy a thicker battery anyway if you want it to last more than 30 hours, and it has a lot more buttons than my last phone (and if you push the up arrow from the main phone screen, you connect to the internet- oops, I'm not paying for that feature!), and cost me a huge hole in my budget, and about 3 hours of my evening.
Dammit.

And I realized that all of my jeans (except one pair that gape a LOT at the waist, so I don't wear them much) have holes now, and it is just PAINFUL to go jeans shopping because nobody ever finds a pair that actually fit them, and women's jeans usually are pretty cheaply made for the steep price they charge you, and I just don't want to go through all that again, especially after what I just spent on my cell phone.

And I'm not looking forward to my tasteless breakfast tomorrow, and I ran out of vanilla soy milk, too, so it's going to be even gruckyer, and you can only add raisins to cereal for so many months before you get sick of raisins.

And my toes are cold, but I have this big heavy blanket on the bed, and I'm feeling smothered.

And I still can't believe I just spent $225 on a cell phone I don't really like... because it was the best option available.

And I canceled my cable because I'm on a budget and I'm staying away from TV while going to grad school and working and trying to get out and see my friends at least 2x/month. But I miss my shows.

And I didn't even bring up all the fuss-worthy issues I'm having with bras...

And it's past my bedtime.
And I'm just kinda grumpy right now.
And tomorrow is another big day... with no mistakes in it yet.
And I guess if I really don't like the phone, I have another 13 days to return it.
Sigh.

...You know, life ain't all that bad, really...

-I have a cat who adores me, and sometimes lets me sleep past 4:30am.
-I have a whole lot of supportive and intelligent friends that I like to spend time with.
-I have dinner, every night I stop running around long enough to make it.
-I have breakfast, such as it is, every day. (And I really could have gone to the store for soy milk today, too.)
-I have a cell phone, and a good calling plan, so I can call my friends and complain to them about cell phones and jeans and cereal and blankets and bears, oh my.
-I have a roof over my head, a bed to sleep in, more than one pair of jeans, lots of books to read, yeast on my popcorn, and sole ownership of the remote control (I still watch DVD's).
Hey-- life is GOOD!
...And I really do want world peace. (quote from Miss Congeniality. Sorry. Couldn't help it.)