I’m drinking my second Snapple Mango Madness “Juice” of the day. I believe that it was a Sign From Above that this second Mango Madness was meant for me when it was the only one left in the cafeteria refrigerator.
I like to use Random Capitalization. Though I don’t believe it is actually random in any way. I fully intend my Capitals when I Capitalize.
I am in the throws of a ginger obsession. I simply can’t smell it enough. It is helpful that I have a ginger perfume (Origins Ginger). It is the only thing I’ve worn in 5 months, when normally I’m a more fruity perfume lover. Origins Ginger: The Official Perfume of My Pregnancy.
We are having the official ultrasound a week from Friday. Until today, I hadn’t even considered that The Bean wouldn’t let us see his or her private parts. Suddenly, I’m sitting here thinking – wow, we’re so looking forward to this whole unveiling thing, and it might not even happen. It’s stunned me a bit and now a feel a little duncey that this has never before occurred to me.
Have I mentioned I can be a little dumb sometimes?
There’s a blog site that I visit often, thanks to The Wife’s suggestion. The site is a shocking purple color. I normally limit myself to only a few minutes of it, because all that purple does something wicked to my own personal SIGHT. Earlier today, I somehow found myself reading the back entries over at the purple place. And I think I stayed on there a bit longer than recommended (is 2 hours really too long?) because now I CAN’T SEE. EVERYTHING IS A WEIRD YELLOW COLOR. WHITE = YELLOW. THAT’S NOT NORMAL, IS IT?
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Monday, October 8, 2007
being better, part 27
It’s funny how I said that thing about my neuroses on Friday, and then… well, here’s the thing.
Twice a year my church has an international conference wherein we can watch all of our church officers and general authorities speak to us from Salt Lake City. Luckily, we have satellite, so we can watch the proceedings from the comfort of our couch. We wear pajamas for a good majority of the weekend. We eat lots of homey food. We cuddle. And we listen to these amazing men and women share direction with which we can improve our lives and our time here together.
Kathryn writes about it here.
I haven’t been able to talk about this hang-up I have, because I didn’t know how to present it here in a public forum, in a way that would be both helpful and constructive. It’s my baggage – and I wasn’t sure if there was a way to sort through it with you all looking on. I have some issues with feeling small – we know this because I have shared that – more than once. The thing is, it comes from something else – something about fitting in or being part of a group – something that has never been right with me. I’ve always been a bit of a loner. You can ask Mom – she’ll tell you a MILLION stories of me hanging out in my bedroom when we had company over – or how I was much happier making something with a pile of paper, some scissors, and some glue than playing with a group of kids I didn’t know. (And sometimes – even when I DID know the kids. Happier by my lonesome.) I have a bizarre sense of humor. I love good science fiction. I can quote obscure movies and books, and work said quotes into harmless conversation. I write poetry. I love to read. I love art. I don’t enjoy small talk. Fake gives me hives. I want to have real conversations with real people. In most cases, I haven’t felt like I could trust myself with people. That’s really it: the old addage of I’ll Show You Mine if You Show Me Yours never worked with me because I didn’t ever feel like Anyone Showed Me Anything – and when I did, indeed, Show Mine, it was usually stolen or trampled or misunderstood altogether. (Don't get me wrong: there have been some rare but WONDERFUL exceptions to my experience: my lovely indelable creamy friends & Minions - you know who you are. They have accepted me, the entire me, and have made me all that much kookier because of their influence.)
Because of my hesitancy to show the Big Me to the Big World, the Big Group Dynamic has always been challenging for me. My best way of dealing with it was to buck it altogether. Funny thing about growing up, though (and WHY don’t they tell us this?) – The Big Group Dynamic never goes away. Whether you’re in high school or college or some kind of pseudo business professional – you are still faced with daily BGD’s. At work, I’m best equipped to deal with the BGD by using Avoidance and Substitution. In these situations, I can be found either leaving the room entirely (I have work! To do! Somewhere else!) – or I huddle close to those people I know best and chat with them about NOTHING until the BGD has settled itself into more manageable clusters. At church it’s a little more difficult. The BGD is there, whether we want it to be or not. Through the BGD, cliques can form, whether we want them or not. For the last couple of years, I have dealt with the BGD at church with my old method of Avoidance and Substitution. I have kept people at arm’s distance, not only to protect myself, but also because I didn’t think anyone really wanted to see beyond that safe perimeter.
I’ve recently identified something in my soul that is restless and unhappy with this state of affairs. For the last few months, I thought it was about identity and having a baby. Like I was going through this identity crisis of sorts because I was going through so much change: my body, my marriage, my entire way of being is under construction. Makes sense that it would lead to some funky Who Am I questions, right?
I have played with the idea that this Having a Baby endeavor would change my relationships with friends. Suddenly those individuals with whom I have developed tenuous connections would be that much farther away. I have been terrified that the folks I’m now going to resemble (those with kids, the SAHM’s) wouldn’t take me in. Like I’d be left at the door knocking, and they’d all just huddle in the corner with the lights out, hoping I’d get the hint and just leave – taking baby and stroller with me.
I had such an urgent need to remember Who I Am (at least in context to FAMILY), that I booked an emergency trip to see my folks. It was fantastic to spend time with them – and good all around (Dad’s birthday, etc. etc.) – but we never got down to the kind of brass tacks conversation I’d imagined in my head, where I tell them that I needed to be with them for a few days, to feel like myself again. In the end, I don’t think it was needed. Because what’s going on inside of me is so much bigger than that.
At one point during the conference this weekend, Julie Beck, the President of our worldwide organization for women (The Relief Society) shared thoughts about Women Who Know. In her talk, she spoke of women of truth – women of power – women of influence. She shared things that these women would do – and in these things she shared, she gave us patterns to follow. Kathryn mentions this in her post today – and she shares that not everyone felt a sense of purpose and direction hearing Sister Beck’s words. I can imagine more than a few women (myself included) who felt small, who felt inadequate, who felt impossibility rising within them. And then… and then I felt an overwhelming sense of calm. Sister Beck shared a laundry list of things that I need to do better – there’s no doubt. But I felt such a great sense of peace settle over me, that I knew that there was something between the lines that I needed to see. My struggle with identity is tied up with my sense of inadequacy. And in that, I realized that what I need to focus on right now is being a better person. I know, I know, this sounds totally cheesey and canned. It sounds like other posts I’ve written. But hear me out. I have worried so much about where I fit, and with whom, that I haven’t bothered to look within. The times when I’ve been most inline with my sense of right, are also the times I’ve felt most free to be who I am. When I focus on improving myself, double checking that my actions are congruent to Christ’s teachings, I am much less inclined to worry about the BGD. I can motor on my way, happy to know that cream really does recognize cream – and when that happens, a friendship will be born.
Twice a year my church has an international conference wherein we can watch all of our church officers and general authorities speak to us from Salt Lake City. Luckily, we have satellite, so we can watch the proceedings from the comfort of our couch. We wear pajamas for a good majority of the weekend. We eat lots of homey food. We cuddle. And we listen to these amazing men and women share direction with which we can improve our lives and our time here together.
Kathryn writes about it here.
I haven’t been able to talk about this hang-up I have, because I didn’t know how to present it here in a public forum, in a way that would be both helpful and constructive. It’s my baggage – and I wasn’t sure if there was a way to sort through it with you all looking on. I have some issues with feeling small – we know this because I have shared that – more than once. The thing is, it comes from something else – something about fitting in or being part of a group – something that has never been right with me. I’ve always been a bit of a loner. You can ask Mom – she’ll tell you a MILLION stories of me hanging out in my bedroom when we had company over – or how I was much happier making something with a pile of paper, some scissors, and some glue than playing with a group of kids I didn’t know. (And sometimes – even when I DID know the kids. Happier by my lonesome.) I have a bizarre sense of humor. I love good science fiction. I can quote obscure movies and books, and work said quotes into harmless conversation. I write poetry. I love to read. I love art. I don’t enjoy small talk. Fake gives me hives. I want to have real conversations with real people. In most cases, I haven’t felt like I could trust myself with people. That’s really it: the old addage of I’ll Show You Mine if You Show Me Yours never worked with me because I didn’t ever feel like Anyone Showed Me Anything – and when I did, indeed, Show Mine, it was usually stolen or trampled or misunderstood altogether. (Don't get me wrong: there have been some rare but WONDERFUL exceptions to my experience: my lovely indelable creamy friends & Minions - you know who you are. They have accepted me, the entire me, and have made me all that much kookier because of their influence.)
Because of my hesitancy to show the Big Me to the Big World, the Big Group Dynamic has always been challenging for me. My best way of dealing with it was to buck it altogether. Funny thing about growing up, though (and WHY don’t they tell us this?) – The Big Group Dynamic never goes away. Whether you’re in high school or college or some kind of pseudo business professional – you are still faced with daily BGD’s. At work, I’m best equipped to deal with the BGD by using Avoidance and Substitution. In these situations, I can be found either leaving the room entirely (I have work! To do! Somewhere else!) – or I huddle close to those people I know best and chat with them about NOTHING until the BGD has settled itself into more manageable clusters. At church it’s a little more difficult. The BGD is there, whether we want it to be or not. Through the BGD, cliques can form, whether we want them or not. For the last couple of years, I have dealt with the BGD at church with my old method of Avoidance and Substitution. I have kept people at arm’s distance, not only to protect myself, but also because I didn’t think anyone really wanted to see beyond that safe perimeter.
I’ve recently identified something in my soul that is restless and unhappy with this state of affairs. For the last few months, I thought it was about identity and having a baby. Like I was going through this identity crisis of sorts because I was going through so much change: my body, my marriage, my entire way of being is under construction. Makes sense that it would lead to some funky Who Am I questions, right?
I have played with the idea that this Having a Baby endeavor would change my relationships with friends. Suddenly those individuals with whom I have developed tenuous connections would be that much farther away. I have been terrified that the folks I’m now going to resemble (those with kids, the SAHM’s) wouldn’t take me in. Like I’d be left at the door knocking, and they’d all just huddle in the corner with the lights out, hoping I’d get the hint and just leave – taking baby and stroller with me.
I had such an urgent need to remember Who I Am (at least in context to FAMILY), that I booked an emergency trip to see my folks. It was fantastic to spend time with them – and good all around (Dad’s birthday, etc. etc.) – but we never got down to the kind of brass tacks conversation I’d imagined in my head, where I tell them that I needed to be with them for a few days, to feel like myself again. In the end, I don’t think it was needed. Because what’s going on inside of me is so much bigger than that.
At one point during the conference this weekend, Julie Beck, the President of our worldwide organization for women (The Relief Society) shared thoughts about Women Who Know. In her talk, she spoke of women of truth – women of power – women of influence. She shared things that these women would do – and in these things she shared, she gave us patterns to follow. Kathryn mentions this in her post today – and she shares that not everyone felt a sense of purpose and direction hearing Sister Beck’s words. I can imagine more than a few women (myself included) who felt small, who felt inadequate, who felt impossibility rising within them. And then… and then I felt an overwhelming sense of calm. Sister Beck shared a laundry list of things that I need to do better – there’s no doubt. But I felt such a great sense of peace settle over me, that I knew that there was something between the lines that I needed to see. My struggle with identity is tied up with my sense of inadequacy. And in that, I realized that what I need to focus on right now is being a better person. I know, I know, this sounds totally cheesey and canned. It sounds like other posts I’ve written. But hear me out. I have worried so much about where I fit, and with whom, that I haven’t bothered to look within. The times when I’ve been most inline with my sense of right, are also the times I’ve felt most free to be who I am. When I focus on improving myself, double checking that my actions are congruent to Christ’s teachings, I am much less inclined to worry about the BGD. I can motor on my way, happy to know that cream really does recognize cream – and when that happens, a friendship will be born.
Friday, October 5, 2007
snapshots
It was Monday night when I realized I hadn’t taken a single blooming picture – really too late to fix the problem, what with me leaving the next day. I wound up taking a couple of quick shots of the dog – and one of a particularly pretty tree in my parents’ front yard. No images of people. Strange that this was my last trip to see my mom and dad before The Bean’s entrance into the world, and even stranger that I have no pictures to show for it. Instead, I present you with my mental snapshots from the trip. Some are more disjointed than others, like those photos you quickly take, hoping they’ll make sense to you when you’re whizzing through the images later.
Sitting by my sister-in-law at the little dining room bar, looking into the kitchen, watching Mom make rice for Dad’s birthday lunch. SIL relates the more HILLARIOUS pieces from a recent funeral – complete with reinactment of two individuals’ musical talents and the offering they made thereof. There is also mention of a somewhat inappropriate show of too much emotion. I laugh until I cry.
Dad's use of bungee cords.
A very lively and family-filled visit to Chuck-A-Rama, an establishment with which I have been heretofore uninitiated. The food is absolutely fantastic for a pregnant girl (all you can eat, mish-mash of every comfort food known to mankind--including the Utah/Idaho version of a scone which is basically deep fried BREAD, salad bar, and yet more bread, and the previously mentioned and much-loved lemon poppyseed cake). The name of the place keeps cracking me up. I lean over to try to include someone in the joke, and realize that they might be offended by my amusement. It's Chuck-A-Rama! It's hillarious!
Joyously happy cousins and their little girl.
Frequent bathroom stops, including one at a McDonald's where the desire for a cheeseburger overcomes my better judgement. I leave poor Mom & Dad out there in the car, awaiting my return, while I cruise through the SLOWEST LINE KNOWN TO MAN to order my food, and grab a Coke. As I get back into the car (with my winningest smile), Dad mutters something about how they were thinking I'd fallen in.
Dad hugging me at the airport.
Standing in the living room, looking out at the aching beauty that is my parents' backyard. And then seeing mom walk out on the grass with a blanket wrapped 'round her shoulders. So odd, so good.
Mom's lovingly-made peanut butter and jam sandwich, awaiting me in the car upon my arrival on Thursday night.
Watching the family of deer in my parents' next-door neighbors' backyard.
Light snowfall - and driving through it safely.
Me, in a bathroom stall of the Salt Lake City airport facilities, after a 2-hour drive. All is quiet until I hear Mom's voice calling my name, and when I respond, her excited exclamation, "Oh! I just knew you'd be in here! You left your camera in the back of the car." As I frantically try to get done up, she hands the camera to me under the stall door and says she has to run so Dad doesn't get a ticket. This hand is the last bit I see of Mom before I leave.
Enjoy your weekend, my dears! Next week, I'm going to talk about: Winston, Whimsy television line-up, and perhaps a bit about my ever-expanding neuroses. AREN'T YOU EXCITED?!?!
Sitting by my sister-in-law at the little dining room bar, looking into the kitchen, watching Mom make rice for Dad’s birthday lunch. SIL relates the more HILLARIOUS pieces from a recent funeral – complete with reinactment of two individuals’ musical talents and the offering they made thereof. There is also mention of a somewhat inappropriate show of too much emotion. I laugh until I cry.
Dad's use of bungee cords.
A very lively and family-filled visit to Chuck-A-Rama, an establishment with which I have been heretofore uninitiated. The food is absolutely fantastic for a pregnant girl (all you can eat, mish-mash of every comfort food known to mankind--including the Utah/Idaho version of a scone which is basically deep fried BREAD, salad bar, and yet more bread, and the previously mentioned and much-loved lemon poppyseed cake). The name of the place keeps cracking me up. I lean over to try to include someone in the joke, and realize that they might be offended by my amusement. It's Chuck-A-Rama! It's hillarious!
Joyously happy cousins and their little girl.
Frequent bathroom stops, including one at a McDonald's where the desire for a cheeseburger overcomes my better judgement. I leave poor Mom & Dad out there in the car, awaiting my return, while I cruise through the SLOWEST LINE KNOWN TO MAN to order my food, and grab a Coke. As I get back into the car (with my winningest smile), Dad mutters something about how they were thinking I'd fallen in.
Dad hugging me at the airport.
Standing in the living room, looking out at the aching beauty that is my parents' backyard. And then seeing mom walk out on the grass with a blanket wrapped 'round her shoulders. So odd, so good.
Mom's lovingly-made peanut butter and jam sandwich, awaiting me in the car upon my arrival on Thursday night.
Watching the family of deer in my parents' next-door neighbors' backyard.
Light snowfall - and driving through it safely.
Me, in a bathroom stall of the Salt Lake City airport facilities, after a 2-hour drive. All is quiet until I hear Mom's voice calling my name, and when I respond, her excited exclamation, "Oh! I just knew you'd be in here! You left your camera in the back of the car." As I frantically try to get done up, she hands the camera to me under the stall door and says she has to run so Dad doesn't get a ticket. This hand is the last bit I see of Mom before I leave.
Enjoy your weekend, my dears! Next week, I'm going to talk about: Winston, Whimsy television line-up, and perhaps a bit about my ever-expanding neuroses. AREN'T YOU EXCITED?!?!
Thursday, October 4, 2007
free floating thanks
Seeing as how I was suspended magically in mid-air last Thursday (whizzing thousands of feet above the face of the earth – on my way to picturesque Familyland) – this is my 2nd Thankful Thursday. For you, gentle readers, I have prepared a double helping of Thanks:
- Planes that stay up
- BLT sandwiches made by mom (how is it that they're ALWAYS better when assembled by mom?)
- The rare chance to sleep in
- Homemade apple pie
- A friend that will text you on your cell phone, just to see how you're doing
- Returning from a trip to a SPARKLING CLEAN HOUSE - including clean bathrooms & vacuumed stairs
- The lemon poppyseed cake (with a tiny bit of vanilla soft-serve) at Chuck-A-Rama (more on this later)
- Even when it isn't the house you grew up in, it can still be your childhood home. Your parents are there, as are those familiar smells that make everything so presient.
- Coming home--- the home of now, the home of always, the home of your heart. Always coming home to the one you love, whose arms are familiar beyond comparison. The ache is gone and you're so happy to be in his presence, you make him follow you upstairs to keep you company while you unpack.
- Planes that stay up
- BLT sandwiches made by mom (how is it that they're ALWAYS better when assembled by mom?)
- The rare chance to sleep in
- Homemade apple pie
- A friend that will text you on your cell phone, just to see how you're doing
- Returning from a trip to a SPARKLING CLEAN HOUSE - including clean bathrooms & vacuumed stairs
- The lemon poppyseed cake (with a tiny bit of vanilla soft-serve) at Chuck-A-Rama (more on this later)
- Even when it isn't the house you grew up in, it can still be your childhood home. Your parents are there, as are those familiar smells that make everything so presient.
- Coming home--- the home of now, the home of always, the home of your heart. Always coming home to the one you love, whose arms are familiar beyond comparison. The ache is gone and you're so happy to be in his presence, you make him follow you upstairs to keep you company while you unpack.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
best laid plans of mice and whimsy
I guess I was, uh, wrong about the posting bits while I was away. But I have some GREAT excuses! Really! Dad's internet was down Friday due to some nibbly squirrels (apparently those cable wires are very tasty). Saturday was spent on the road, and visiting family. Sunday was Dad's birthday. Monday was all kinds of errands and running around. And Tuesday, I packed up and made the trek back to the airport to fly home.
But I'm back with you, my dears. A few posting bits to take care of - but there is Much Work to be done, as well. How's everyone here? Have I lost all of you in my absence?
But I'm back with you, my dears. A few posting bits to take care of - but there is Much Work to be done, as well. How's everyone here? Have I lost all of you in my absence?
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