My very good friend The Wife is in a melancholy way lately. I just wrote her an email, giving her some advice, with the preface that I Am A Person of Action. Which is true, mostly. When I'm feeling out of control, I usually try to do something that puts me back in the driver's seat, even if it's All In My Head (as is usually the case). This works somewhat on the concrete problems that we experience. Not so much with the free-floating Mean Reds.
Instead, my usual prescription for aforementioned Mean Reds goes something like this: watch great movies, listen to great music, talk to your close friends, curl up in bed with fluffy pets or husband. And when I mention these things, you need to know that my prescription isn't really about getting myself OUT of the Mean Reds, but understanding them. I don't like thinking that feeling bad is really a bad thing. It comes for a reason. It can be your friend. It teaches you something. Every time, it teaches you something. There's a lot more to say on this subject, but in light of my UBER STRESSFUL WORK WORK WORK MUST GET IT ALL DONE TODAY thing that I've got going, I give you a list of just a few of my go-to movie items for The Prescription.
-- Stranger Than Fiction --
Dr. Hilbert: Harold, you could just eat nothing but pancakes if you wanted.
Harold: What is wrong with you? Hey, I don't want to eat nothing but pancakes, I want to live! I mean, who in their right mind in a choice between pancakes and living chooses pancakes?
Dr. Hilbert: Harold, if you pause to think, you'd realize that that answer is inextricably contingent upon the type of life being led... and, of course, the quality of the pancakes.
-- Elizabethtown --
If it wasn't this, it would be something else.
-- Buffy the Vampire Slayer, any season - dvd after dvd after dvd... --
I'm off to visit Parental Unit Land for a few days. I'll be posting while I'm gone, so it's not like you'll even miss me!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
stressy mcstresserson and her soundtrack
You know how I said that thing about challenges last week? And how great they were? I’VE CHANGED MY MIND.
Okay, maybe not… I’m going to hold fast. But SERIOUSLY? The last few weeks? And the coming couple? Insane! Sweaty! With lots of extra nervous bits! I drove to work today. I didn’t take the bus because I left too late, and then it took me –no lie- 75 minutes to get here. 75 minutes to drive 22 miles, people. I love living in the northwest, but the TRAFFIC? Quite the nightmare.
As I was driving, I was listening to my ipod. Jefe has this really fantastic jack that allows me to plug my ipod directly into Jefe’s sound system – no need to worry about pesky radio frequencies. This one song by Imogen Heap came on, and I listened to it about 5 times, letting it bring me back to a time last summer, when having a baby was still an idea for Chip & I.
My back is all kinds of jacked up. I don’t talk about it much because there isn’t much I can do about it, other than keeping strong and doing a million exercises – all intended to keep my lower back from crumbling down upon itself, much like a little pile of those Jenga! blocks. There is severe arthritis (yes, I’m 33); there are herniated disks (yes, more than one); there is chronic pain; there are lovely boney pokey-outy bits that probably make a soothing scraping sound deep inside my innards. We’ve been on the road to having a kid for a while – much longer than people would ever think – because of my back. We’ve had doctors tell us a thousand different things about what a pregnancy was going to do to my own precious Jenga! block spine & pelvis. There have been tears and frustration and resignation and hope and a thousand other emotions. Last summer, we embarked on yet another round of diagnostic tests. There was this one particular day I spent on the campus of Northwest Hospital, doing MRI’s and bonescans and blood tests and other fun things. The weather was a beyond-perfect August day: sunny, deep blue sky, a light breeze. Between a couple of the tests, I sat outside, listening to Imogen Heap. And I felt hopeful. For the first time, I felt like this whole thing was the first step in a great journey – and at the end of it all, I’d be holding a little baby that was a little bit of Chip and a little bit of me and a lot of indescribables. After letting the sun soak into my rain-weary skin, I went back inside the hospital and lay down in the bonescan machine. I closed my eyes and smiled, listening to Imogen, knowing that everything happens for a reason, for a purpose. Amidst the little Jenga! blocks that are the components of my life – even when they are tipping violently to the left or swaying dangerously to the right – even when a few of them tumble down and fall at my feet – I feel like it’s all worth it.
Today I’m trying to hold everything together, even as little bits fall. I can go back to that day and feel good about how far we’ve come. And how far we have yet to go.
Okay, maybe not… I’m going to hold fast. But SERIOUSLY? The last few weeks? And the coming couple? Insane! Sweaty! With lots of extra nervous bits! I drove to work today. I didn’t take the bus because I left too late, and then it took me –no lie- 75 minutes to get here. 75 minutes to drive 22 miles, people. I love living in the northwest, but the TRAFFIC? Quite the nightmare.
As I was driving, I was listening to my ipod. Jefe has this really fantastic jack that allows me to plug my ipod directly into Jefe’s sound system – no need to worry about pesky radio frequencies. This one song by Imogen Heap came on, and I listened to it about 5 times, letting it bring me back to a time last summer, when having a baby was still an idea for Chip & I.
My back is all kinds of jacked up. I don’t talk about it much because there isn’t much I can do about it, other than keeping strong and doing a million exercises – all intended to keep my lower back from crumbling down upon itself, much like a little pile of those Jenga! blocks. There is severe arthritis (yes, I’m 33); there are herniated disks (yes, more than one); there is chronic pain; there are lovely boney pokey-outy bits that probably make a soothing scraping sound deep inside my innards. We’ve been on the road to having a kid for a while – much longer than people would ever think – because of my back. We’ve had doctors tell us a thousand different things about what a pregnancy was going to do to my own precious Jenga! block spine & pelvis. There have been tears and frustration and resignation and hope and a thousand other emotions. Last summer, we embarked on yet another round of diagnostic tests. There was this one particular day I spent on the campus of Northwest Hospital, doing MRI’s and bonescans and blood tests and other fun things. The weather was a beyond-perfect August day: sunny, deep blue sky, a light breeze. Between a couple of the tests, I sat outside, listening to Imogen Heap. And I felt hopeful. For the first time, I felt like this whole thing was the first step in a great journey – and at the end of it all, I’d be holding a little baby that was a little bit of Chip and a little bit of me and a lot of indescribables. After letting the sun soak into my rain-weary skin, I went back inside the hospital and lay down in the bonescan machine. I closed my eyes and smiled, listening to Imogen, knowing that everything happens for a reason, for a purpose. Amidst the little Jenga! blocks that are the components of my life – even when they are tipping violently to the left or swaying dangerously to the right – even when a few of them tumble down and fall at my feet – I feel like it’s all worth it.
Today I’m trying to hold everything together, even as little bits fall. I can go back to that day and feel good about how far we’ve come. And how far we have yet to go.
Friday, September 21, 2007
living the life imperfect - and something about a misbehaving dress
Occasionally my boss expects me to, you know, work. And it’s always a funny surprise to me, like I’m thinking that I’m here just to pretty the place up. Isn’t my presence enough to just motivate OTHERS to do the work? Sadly, no. These days, I have a pretty great job. Proof is found in my lack of complaints. But when Bossy starts asking me to do things besides the regular stuff, or when the regular stuff reaches levels requiring me to actually sweat a little – I do feel a wee bit put upon. And usually a couple of sighs and maybe even some choice words about my hard working self being unappreciated in my own time might escape my lips (okay, maybe it isn’t quite that dire – but you get it). And then I check myself and think, boy, am I a PANSY or what?! Because, seriously, I’ve had jobs that could run circles, squares, and even parallelograms around this one. Jobs that paid less, were much more labor-intensive, and also required me to work around some fairly unattractive (read: HORRIBLE) people. So glad I’m not there anymore. But, **sigh**, that doesn’t make all of this junk much more fun, does it?
Which leads to this thought: aren’t challenges just wacky that way? What is one person’s Mount Everest of pain is another’s walk in the park. I’ve mentioned before that I have this uh, tendency to compare. So I do occasionally compare the problems or issues I have with the problems or issues that my friends have – or, at least, the problems I think they’re having (ha ha – I’m being FUNNY and IRONIC – don’t hate me, please?). In my clearest moments, I am grateful for the troubles that Chip and I face, that are ours and ours alone. I wouldn’t trade our issues with anyone else’s. Because I know that we’ve been given the unique talents that will be necessary to overcome them. This is what I think. In my CLEAREST moments.
(When I’m in a more murky frame of mind, you might just find me day-dreaming about having the problem of too much money, or too much free time, or the HUGE ISSUE of not knowing exactly WHICH house to buy – They’re all so pretty! And we can afford any of them!)
A family friend, Gerry, has said that if we all stood in a circle and threw our problems into the center and were asked to choose a problem out of the pile, we’d all choose our own. I think this is interesting, because what it points to is not only the thing I mentioned above about unique gifts, but it also says that we’re attached to our problems, like a familiar fuzzy blanket. It’s hard for me to imagine addiction or sickness or dishonesty or financial woes as a comforting friend, but there it is. Without these issues, somehow we’d be less human. Our foibles and our problems define us, just as much as they can refine us - if we let them.
I really hate it when I’m reading a blog that makes a person’s life out to be roses and singing birds, 100% of the time. I can’t relate to those people. They aren’t real to me. Perhaps their lives really are that trouble-free, but I know that mine is not. And when I think about it, I really don’t want it to be. I hope in time I will allow the fire of adversity to burn some of my impurities away – so that I can be a better person than I am. This is the nature of work. This is the nature of trouble. It puts us in places we wouldn’t otherwise go. We can wallow there, or we can glean as much from that place as we can, and be the stronger, better people we were meant to be. I know which way I’d like to go – how about you?
In other news: I had a disastrous dress issue yesterday. A formula for malfunctioning clothing goes something like this: NEW SHORT NEVER-BEFORE WORN DRESS IN VERY THIN FABRIC THAT STICKS TO EVERYTHING + LACK OF MATERNITY TIGHTS OR LEGGINGS + THE ONLY LEGGING ALTERNATIVE WHICH HAPPENS TO BE THICK OVER-THE-KNEE SOCKS THAT ARE NOTORIOUS FOR FALLING AROUND ANKLES + STATIC CLING + LARGE COMPANY MEETING WITH 500 PEOPLE IN ATTENDANCE x TOO MANY EMBARASSING MOMENTS OF SHOWING "ITEMS" UNDER THE DRESS THAT ARE SUPPOSED TO STAY HIDDEN UNDER THE BLOOMING DRESS = A HYSTERICAL AND SWEATY TRIP TO OLD NAVY TO PURCHASE A PAIR OF MATERNITY JEANS THAT ARE TOO LONG AND THEREFORE REQUIRE DREADED “CUFFING” SO THAT THEY CAN NOW BE WORN SAFELY UNDER THE DRESS. It wasn’t pretty.
With that, I'll leave you for the weekend. Enjoy! Any good plans?
Which leads to this thought: aren’t challenges just wacky that way? What is one person’s Mount Everest of pain is another’s walk in the park. I’ve mentioned before that I have this uh, tendency to compare. So I do occasionally compare the problems or issues I have with the problems or issues that my friends have – or, at least, the problems I think they’re having (ha ha – I’m being FUNNY and IRONIC – don’t hate me, please?). In my clearest moments, I am grateful for the troubles that Chip and I face, that are ours and ours alone. I wouldn’t trade our issues with anyone else’s. Because I know that we’ve been given the unique talents that will be necessary to overcome them. This is what I think. In my CLEAREST moments.
(When I’m in a more murky frame of mind, you might just find me day-dreaming about having the problem of too much money, or too much free time, or the HUGE ISSUE of not knowing exactly WHICH house to buy – They’re all so pretty! And we can afford any of them!)
A family friend, Gerry, has said that if we all stood in a circle and threw our problems into the center and were asked to choose a problem out of the pile, we’d all choose our own. I think this is interesting, because what it points to is not only the thing I mentioned above about unique gifts, but it also says that we’re attached to our problems, like a familiar fuzzy blanket. It’s hard for me to imagine addiction or sickness or dishonesty or financial woes as a comforting friend, but there it is. Without these issues, somehow we’d be less human. Our foibles and our problems define us, just as much as they can refine us - if we let them.
I really hate it when I’m reading a blog that makes a person’s life out to be roses and singing birds, 100% of the time. I can’t relate to those people. They aren’t real to me. Perhaps their lives really are that trouble-free, but I know that mine is not. And when I think about it, I really don’t want it to be. I hope in time I will allow the fire of adversity to burn some of my impurities away – so that I can be a better person than I am. This is the nature of work. This is the nature of trouble. It puts us in places we wouldn’t otherwise go. We can wallow there, or we can glean as much from that place as we can, and be the stronger, better people we were meant to be. I know which way I’d like to go – how about you?
In other news: I had a disastrous dress issue yesterday. A formula for malfunctioning clothing goes something like this: NEW SHORT NEVER-BEFORE WORN DRESS IN VERY THIN FABRIC THAT STICKS TO EVERYTHING + LACK OF MATERNITY TIGHTS OR LEGGINGS + THE ONLY LEGGING ALTERNATIVE WHICH HAPPENS TO BE THICK OVER-THE-KNEE SOCKS THAT ARE NOTORIOUS FOR FALLING AROUND ANKLES + STATIC CLING + LARGE COMPANY MEETING WITH 500 PEOPLE IN ATTENDANCE x TOO MANY EMBARASSING MOMENTS OF SHOWING "ITEMS" UNDER THE DRESS THAT ARE SUPPOSED TO STAY HIDDEN UNDER THE BLOOMING DRESS = A HYSTERICAL AND SWEATY TRIP TO OLD NAVY TO PURCHASE A PAIR OF MATERNITY JEANS THAT ARE TOO LONG AND THEREFORE REQUIRE DREADED “CUFFING” SO THAT THEY CAN NOW BE WORN SAFELY UNDER THE DRESS. It wasn’t pretty.
With that, I'll leave you for the weekend. Enjoy! Any good plans?
Thursday, September 20, 2007
thankful thursday
It’s far from a new idea, but I decided to inaugurate a weekly forum in which to share some of the things that make life zingy, that make life good, the things for which I’m, you know – grateful.
All Hail Thankful Thursday! I’m hoping I can share some of the small things that help to get me through a day, so if you’re wondering where the biggies are (God, Faith, Family), they’re there, at the top of the list in my heart; just not here, because the Biggies are Biggies, made all the more sweet by the tiny things. Kathryn over at Daring Young Mom, calls these things Reasons – and I think she’s lovely, as is her blog.
(Some items on today’s list brought to you by The Horrendous Dress Malfunction that I experienced today – which you’ll hear ALL ABOUT tomorrow.)
All Hail Thankful Thursday! I’m hoping I can share some of the small things that help to get me through a day, so if you’re wondering where the biggies are (God, Faith, Family), they’re there, at the top of the list in my heart; just not here, because the Biggies are Biggies, made all the more sweet by the tiny things. Kathryn over at Daring Young Mom, calls these things Reasons – and I think she’s lovely, as is her blog.
(Some items on today’s list brought to you by The Horrendous Dress Malfunction that I experienced today – which you’ll hear ALL ABOUT tomorrow.)
- Having an Old Navy within spitting distance of my office; because you never know when you might need to buy an Emergency Pair of Affordable Maternity Jeans. Not that I'd know anything about that.
- Miniature Nestle Butterfingers
- Chip's sleepy smile in the morning
- The availability of fresh water
- Cold slices of cucmber with ranch dressing
- Fergus and Phoebe following me into the bathroom to watch me get dressed & brush my teeth - even though it's 5am and clearly too early to be up.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
stripes before spots
Anyone care to venture a guess as to what it might mean when your favorite uber comfortable leopard-spotted shoes are vomitted upon not once, but twice, in the span of a single evening? And the culprit is not one, but both cats, working in tandem?
Hmmm - yes, I thought so too.
Annnnnnnnd in other news, I have removed the SLUG visage. I couldn't take it anymore. For those of you begging for more slug lovin', you're not getting it here at The Creamery, no matter how nicely you ask. I love you all, but we must have STANDARDS, people!
Hmmm - yes, I thought so too.
Annnnnnnnd in other news, I have removed the SLUG visage. I couldn't take it anymore. For those of you begging for more slug lovin', you're not getting it here at The Creamery, no matter how nicely you ask. I love you all, but we must have STANDARDS, people!
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