In the soundtrack of my life, this song is somewhere in my list of top ten — mmmm, maybe top five:
Tell me some of your songs…
“A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.” – Mere Christianity, pages 40-41.
*****Artwork “Come Follow Me” by James T. Harwood
Confession: I am grumpy. I have not really written on this blog for almost a whole month because of my grumps. It’s actually worse than grumps but I don’t really want to hang my dirty laundry. I don’t feel like being a downer. I’ll just say I have some, it stinks, and am tired of it. So I’ll make light of it here and hopefully I’ll be back to my ol’ blogging self some time soon. In the mean time, I’ll share my opinions on some non-pressing matters:
1. Gentleman Broncos is a gaggy movie. I don’t recommend it (way too much body fluids, not enough Jermain).
2. I wonder about people who take professional pictures of themselves with their pet. Please don’t misunderstand me here. Couples and their pets – fine. Couples with children and their pets- also fine. Child/Children with the pet – even more fine. But a grown up person who goes and gets a professional shot of themselves and just their pet- not fine. Even if done with irony. I want to cry for them and yet I also want slap them across the face.
3. My feet have been consistently cold for the past 6 months. It’s getting warmer and my feet are still freezing. Explain.
4. I think too much about body language. But not with other people, only with myself. When I am talking to someone and notice that my arms are crossed, I remember that this sometimes sends a negative message and so I slowly try to unfold my arms and hope that the person I’m talking to doesn’t notice. Weird, I know.
5. I’m going to eat the frozen Snickers ice cream bar in my fridge right now with no regrets. I’ve decided that when I do eat junky food like that and think “I’m going to regret this” then I ‘m just being stupid. Why beat myself up when I’m going to eat it anyway? I’ll just run like hell tomorrow. No regrets.
This was random and negative and totally represents how I’m feeling right now. Goodnight.
***photo by peeklondon on flickr
A Clear Midnight
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best,
Night, sleep, death and the stars.
Good ol’ Walt. I live in a city that glows 24/7 and has a pyramid with thirty-nine 7,000 watt bulbs shooting a beam of light into outer space. My nights are not quite like Walt ever knew. I’m not complaining. I could just use a night like this every now and then.
How are the stars in your neck of the woods?
*****Photo Credit: http://www.juzaphoto.com
So, I thought I missed World Nutella Day. I had it in my head that it was February 2nd but it’s really February 5th (fwooo, that was so close). I’m not obsessed with Nutella. It’s yummy. I actually buy the store brand version of it sometimes cause I’m cheap like that. What fascinates me is that somebody created this product, and it is so awesome that another somebody, or a group of somebodies dedicated a day to it. What an honor. What a privilege. And frankly, I want to make something that awesome. I want a “World (something La created) Day.”
So I’m going to eat this decadent delight not only because it’s delicious but I will eat it in honor of successful creative people everywhere who deserve a “World (something they created) Day.” On February 5th, bust out that crepe recipe, your strawberries, your raspberries and your bananas, and celebrate WORLD NUTELLA DAY (echo echo echo…..).
Question: If you could have a “World (something you created) Day”, what would it be?
Photo: Found through Google Images
I’m not sure what to call this here post. I don’t want to sound cheesy. Or preachy. Or complainy. I most certainly DO want to break rules of punctuation and make up my own words for the sake of emphasis.
We’ve had car issues up the ying yang. It all started when the “Party Time” Cruiser gave a good whine and then stopped running while El Jefe was dropping off The Todd at the airport.
Thank goodness for AAA.
As we wondered how to go about getting it fixed in the most affordable manner, the brakes on our other car started grinding. And I mean grinding. It’s a terrible feeling. But you can’t just not use your brakes. It’s a real problem. One that we just fixed in the “Party Time” about a year and a half ago (it was bad, though, mostly because we let it go too long…ahem).
We had to avoid that issue with this car right? We were down to one car and we had to take care of that as well.
So El Jefe took the car so he could fix it immediately after work and my plan was to ride bikes to school with the kids. Knowing I’d have to pump the tires because I hadn’t really ridden it this summer, I stepped into the back yard to set things up. Huh, no bike. I checked the side of the house. I checked the shed. I checked the courtyard again.
And then it hits me. I’ve been robbed. I check the back yard again and sure enough, El Jefe’s mountain bike (a nice one, that he got at a thrift store, to fix up and teach himself a little more about bikes) is gone as well.
“Are you kidding me?” “Are you kidding me?” I yell at the imaginary butt-head who stole our bikes. (“Mom, we don’t say butt-head.” ” No we don’t unless somebody has stolen your bike, ok dear?”)
I felt so invaded. So angry. So like lemon juice was being poured on my paper cut.
But there was nothing to be done at the moment. I changed the bike trailer into a jogging stroller (punks didn’t steal that because it was safely tucked away but I’m sure they would have taken it, too. Jerks.) and walked the mile to school while Chunk #1 rode his bike. If you’re wondering why Chunk #2 didn’t ride her bike, it’s because we tried that, and oh my heavens it was a long trip. She has since agreed to the trailer (or rather the stroller) for now.
As you can guess, walking gives time for thinking. I wanted to cry at my situation. But there wasn’t time right then. No, instead, I remembered a talk that I just happened to listen to the day before (coincidence? I think not!). I felt connected because of the car theme. The working towards a stable future thing. And then the feeling vulnerable and foolish thing.
I’ll share because it helped me when I needed it. (I will now tell myself “Don’t you quit!”)
“I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.”
Jack’s quote from “On the Road” makes me feel better about myself.
I recall a discussion with my mother many years ago. She is a realist. I am not. There are a few times in my life where this made us clash (just a bit). The discussion was based on my disposition of being interested in too many things. I didn’t understand. What was wrong with wanting to learn piano, violin, dance, swimming, basketball, volleyball, softball, photography and still manage going to school? Later in life I tried my hand in drawing, modern dance, long distance running, racquetball, tennis, writing, mountain biking, and who knows what else. I thought this was normal. My mom’s point was that if I didn’t discipline myself in just a few areas I will master nothing. Well, of course she was right. But, my disposition hasn’t changed. These days I continue spreading myself too thin. These days I would love to learn to cook and bake better, sew better, make quilts, learn woodworking, gardening, guitar, be organized, read more, learn more at home renovation (?!), do another triathlon, go back to the piano, be a better mommy, learn about herbs, and write, write, write.
“I like too many things” but I won’t fight it anymore. I’ve stopped chastising myself. I will keep chasing stars and getting confused. I love this world. I want to experience everything in it. Is it bad that I’ll never master anything?
I don’t feel like answering that right now.
For now, I’ll just write about it. This blog is not a niche blog. I’ve not mastered the art of motherhood or wifehood. My writing is amateur. My photography is mostly stolen from my husband. And everything else will get thrown in the mess. “I have nothing to offer . . . but my own confusion.”
What stars have you been chasing lately?
While I share a story with you that may appear to be self-deprecating but is actually just humorous, please interrupt me with sentences that begin with “Here’s what you need to do….” or “You should….”
Make sure that I never actually get to finish telling my story and emphasize the fact that I desperately need your help in order to cope in this world.
One day I will write my autobiography and I will call it “The Good Nerd.”
…because… you know… there are good nerds and there are bad nerds.
I fall under the former. Why? Because only a nerd enjoys to distinguish between “former” and “latter” and feels special while doing so. However a bad nerd would stroke her own ego for doing it and then make sure you, the audience, understood the distinction. I’m not stroking my own ego. I’m simply pointing out that I enjoy the difference between “former” and “latter” —
— kind of like how I used to enjoy Grover’s illustration of “near” (neeeeeaaaaaaar) and “far” (faaaaaaaaaaar) on Sesame Street.
Don’t steal that book title. It’s mine I tell ‘ya. MINE.
***Speaking of taking stuff — I don’t know who to give credit to for the above image (bad! bad nerd!).
Hmmmm, it would appear that I have not fully made a comeback because I have a hard time writing it….miscarriage….. Perhaps I should call this post “A comeback from ‘that which shall not be named'”. Or, I should just call it “Voldemort”. Yes. How I recovered from my “Voldemort”.
Perhaps it is the weight that this word carries. Its own definition says things like “expulsion” “non-viable” and “embryo”. These descriptions are cold and harsh (and kinda gross). Use them in reference to me and my body and, ya, I recoil, preferring to call the whole experience “that which shall not be named”.
But that is only part of its weight. There is some heftiness in this word that is not found in a dictionary. In fact, there are no words, I believe, but these lack of words seemed to linger, heavy inside me.
Nature has taken its course. And my brain must do a paradigm shift…again.
I think my main problem with the “m” word is that I want to move on and start fresh, RIGHT NOW. I don’t want to dwell on it anymore…but my body isn’t letting me do that. It keeps yelling at me like a sore muscle after a serious workout. I did not realize how long it takes to recuperate from a “mis” (part the word is ok).
There are ways to recuperate. Let me give you exhibit A on how NOT to recover:
- After a check-up, go to the mall to find a hair flower to cheer you up. Even if you think it’s not that far to walk, think again. Then, think again, again, because you will experience some serious cramping after your long walk.
- Spend most of the next day standing, while helping with an Easter Egg Hunt and then think it’s no big deal to weed the garden. Apparently it is a big deal…that night, your body will let you know.
- After said bad night, go to church anyway even though you committed in your head to stay home a relax.
- The next day, go to work and think it’s OK even if you are feeling light headed.
My sister said it best: “You’re not treating this like it’s a big deal….and it IS a big deal!” She knows when to speak and how to do it. So, I followed her advice.
Now, Exhibit B on one way to recover correctly:
- Watch Jane Austin movies, both modern version or BBC versions. As many as you want.
- Eat chocolate ice cream, straight out of the container. It’s more comforting that way. But don’t eat as much as you really want because you gain back the weight you lost in the “mis.”
- Read a good book- “Shakespeare’s Secret” (Apparently both Victorian and Elizabethan England are very comforting), and also start the Percy Jackson series…. Then dream of the days when you were an English teacher how fun it would be to use the first book in your mythology unit….then be reminded by your friend “Scott” that you’d never get to use it because you would have no way to pay for all those books for your students…..and then ponder the circumstances of our education and think about homeschooling…but I digress and you probably wouldn’t want to go on this tangent like I did.
- Update your blog.
- Play Sorry with the Chunks
- Get out that old instructional book and find the hidden secrets of Photoshop.
- Play Memory with the Chunks
- Take good herbs.
- Sleep some more and more and more.
I always thought that if I had to be put on some kind of bed rest that I would just lap it up. Ya, bring on the books, bring on the movies, bring on the lazing about. I thought that was my personality. Turns out I can only handle about a day and a half of that and then the crazy switch goes off.
OK, I don’t know how to end this post. So, instead…………..Tell me about your comebacks.
As the sleep tiptoed away from my eyes this morning, and I discovered Chunk #1’s slumberous form had replaced my early-risin’ hubby, I could feel spring making its way into my house.
How does it do that?
Is it the early sunshine? Probably. But the air. What exactly makes the air in my house have a hint of Easter Egg hunts, my birthday, spring break, warm sunshine, and flowered skirts?
And then settles the memories of camping in the spring.
Fires, ‘smores, hot dogs, that tent-y smell, starry nights, card games by lanterns, a breezy silence, dirt, laughter, snuggly sleeping bags, bright sunshiney mornings, pancakes.
I got a hankerin’.
Where should we go camping?
I’m always curious why people start a blog. In fact, when I find a blog I like, I sometimes jump to their first entry to see what they’re all about. I wanna know if they explain themselves a little or if they just jump right in. Is it an avenue to keep in touch with family? Is it a platform for working on writing? Is it a way to relate to other moms? Is it to feed a narcissistic bug? Why do you do it? Why do you make yourself public?
I’ve been asking myself these questions lately? Blogs are interesting for many reasons I don’t feel like addressing here. But, if I’m not careful they can suck my time away.
So what’s my blog all about? This is what I ask myself and this is why I haven’t been writing lately.
To my fellow bloggers, why do you blog? To my non-bloggers, why don’t you blog?