Today is definitely one of those days where I'm more poo than wife.
I have zero energy. Actually, more like negative amounts of energy. Nothing; all of my reserves are tapped. I'm exhausted, and all I want to do is sleep. When I get like this, everything goes out the window--chores, creativity, exercising, socializing. What energy I have is concentrated on: being up on time, bathing, getting to work, doing a good job, being nice to Himself, scooping kitty litter. Really. That's all I'm good for right now.
And this depresses me.
It's just that this nasty, insidious thought lurks at the back of my head: what's the point?
Why bother to exercise every day? You have to keep doing it, you don't really enjoy it. Why bother to clean the house? It just gets dirty again and you're usually the one who has to clean it and that takes away from the time you could be spending doing crafting or writing. But what's the point in that, either? Nothing you make is original. And what's the point in getting up, going to work, running errands? There's always more work, more errands, always in this infernal heat and sunshine.
No one likes whining in the blogosphere. It's so...well, bourgeois. This is all I have to fuss about, the dissipated ennui that comes along with a solid middle class existence where the worst problems I encounter are not forging for nuts and berries and game, or avoiding marauding bands of rapists and pillagers, or worrying about religious persecution, but rather, high cholesterol, budget cuts, the desert weather, and my painful cracked toenail. No, no one likes whining. And I try not to do a whole bunch of it, especially here. But there's no point in being anything other than authentic, and right now, I feel authentically crappy.
But at least I'm present.
And tomorrow's another day.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Creatin' Ain't Easy
Here's another dirty little secret of mine:
I don't like to try new things.
My sisters Thing One and Li'l Odie have this same problem. We've discussed this at some length and have come to the determination that if we want to learn some new task, we don't want to actually go through the learning process. We want to be GOOD at it as soon as we try our hand at it. We don't like to fail; we don't like the practice runs and the messy screw-ups. We're scared of the crap that will get produced in the learning period.
_______________________________________________________________
On a side note, about 6 weeks ago I went to my first cropping meet-up. The hostess was lovely and gracious and all things awesome, and when she showed us her scrapping space, she apologized for the mess, but added, "But you know...creativity isn't clean."
______________________________________________________________
Then, right after Himself and I got back from the weddingmoon, I cleaned the kitchen. And then proceeded to cook in the kitchen. As I was cooking, I was talking on the phone with Thing One (talking on the phone when making dinner? this might be why my cooking sucks. Note to self: investigate this hypothesis) and quietly bitching about how the kitchen was getting dirty all over again. Thing One, an experienced and talented cook, simply said in the half-amused, half-exasperated tone she has perfected after 30 years of dealing with her neurotic baby sister, "Well, Sassy, if you use the kitchen...it's going to get dirty."
______________________________________________________________
Now, to tie those two little stories back into my silly little revelation...I like to create. I am getting a total charge from all these ideas percolating in my little Gemini brain. I haven't got a bloody clue what I'm doing, but I like to create, dammit. And creating means learning, trying, failing, making messes (often the latter two are one and the same)...I'm not going to sustain this creative bliss if I'm not willing to get past the fear of sucking. Maybe I'll always suck at whatever I try my hand at...but at least I'll have a creative high while I'm sucking!
I guess one has to be bad at something, or at least unskilled, before one can get good at something, especially if there is not an innate talent or originality in the creator. But I am willing to make messes, I am willing to try, I am willing to fail, and even fail publicly: I am willing to blog about this process.
Here's one of the projects I've tried my hand at; it's my first piece of jewelry.
It's just a dinky pair of earrings, but I will give them to my friend Gail with the little Mexican flower twisted around them. It just may be a thank-you for her taking care of a friend (NOT me, oh no, why would you think that? *cough cough*) who may have had too much to drink last night.
Anyway. Moving along. I think I've had all the creativity I can take for one evening. Happy Sunday!
I don't like to try new things.
My sisters Thing One and Li'l Odie have this same problem. We've discussed this at some length and have come to the determination that if we want to learn some new task, we don't want to actually go through the learning process. We want to be GOOD at it as soon as we try our hand at it. We don't like to fail; we don't like the practice runs and the messy screw-ups. We're scared of the crap that will get produced in the learning period.
_______________________________________________________________
On a side note, about 6 weeks ago I went to my first cropping meet-up. The hostess was lovely and gracious and all things awesome, and when she showed us her scrapping space, she apologized for the mess, but added, "But you know...creativity isn't clean."
______________________________________________________________
Then, right after Himself and I got back from the weddingmoon, I cleaned the kitchen. And then proceeded to cook in the kitchen. As I was cooking, I was talking on the phone with Thing One (talking on the phone when making dinner? this might be why my cooking sucks. Note to self: investigate this hypothesis) and quietly bitching about how the kitchen was getting dirty all over again. Thing One, an experienced and talented cook, simply said in the half-amused, half-exasperated tone she has perfected after 30 years of dealing with her neurotic baby sister, "Well, Sassy, if you use the kitchen...it's going to get dirty."
______________________________________________________________
Now, to tie those two little stories back into my silly little revelation...I like to create. I am getting a total charge from all these ideas percolating in my little Gemini brain. I haven't got a bloody clue what I'm doing, but I like to create, dammit. And creating means learning, trying, failing, making messes (often the latter two are one and the same)...I'm not going to sustain this creative bliss if I'm not willing to get past the fear of sucking. Maybe I'll always suck at whatever I try my hand at...but at least I'll have a creative high while I'm sucking!
I guess one has to be bad at something, or at least unskilled, before one can get good at something, especially if there is not an innate talent or originality in the creator. But I am willing to make messes, I am willing to try, I am willing to fail, and even fail publicly: I am willing to blog about this process.
Here's one of the projects I've tried my hand at; it's my first piece of jewelry.
It's just a dinky pair of earrings, but I will give them to my friend Gail with the little Mexican flower twisted around them. It just may be a thank-you for her taking care of a friend (NOT me, oh no, why would you think that? *cough cough*) who may have had too much to drink last night.
Anyway. Moving along. I think I've had all the creativity I can take for one evening. Happy Sunday!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Making on Mondays, A Little Late: My First Craft Project!
It is time.
Enough living in shame. Enough denial. It's time I admit something.
I have...a sickness. Perhaps affliction is a better word. And I thought I was the only one who had it. I thought I was all alone.
And then, by sheer happenstance, I discovered that others have this problem, too. These women were brave enough to admit it, and they gave me the courage to bring it out into the light. No more hiding. No more silence.
I...I have Craft ADD.
Char, over at Crap I've Made, came out of the craft closet about this sickness. Being all new to this crafty shit and all, I didn't realize that I would become so swamped, so quickly, by so many great exciting creative ideas. And not just about crafts, but art and writing, too. What's worse, I'm a Gemini, and so even if I were not predisposed to being fickle and inattentive, years of people saying "Oh! You fickle Geminis!" certainly rendered me thus. So for the past six weeks, my attention, time, and bank account have been pulled into about 35 different crafty creative directions. I felt frustrated and overwhelmed as much as I felt charged and excited. I thought, "Geez, how am I ever going to get any one project done? I'm an EPIC FAIL before I ever got started."
But Char acknowledges it--the inability to finish a project, the multiple projects she has going at once, and of course, the overwhelming compulsion to swing by the local craft store.
Thank god I'm not alone.
But I am going to make a concerted effort to nip this affliction in the bud. Which is why I present to you, Dear Reader, my first project, The Gimpy Crafter's Goal Board:
(And my messy craft desk)
The idea is simple. The current creative projects are written down and clipped to the board. Evert time I finish a project, a space will become available. I will reach into my stash of ideas that I've written down, blindly grab an idea, and add it to the board. Every time I find a creative idea (or come up with one) that I want to try, I will write it down on a piece of paper and throw it into the stash. Until I pull it out, I will not allow myself to think about it again. I will only focus on the ones that are on the board.
This little project was essentially a small spin-off from the Menu Planning board project that I found on the All Things Beautiful blog. I basically zoomed out to the Dollar Store, picked up a whole bunch of their cheap corkboards, took some Modge Podge, acrylic paint, ribbon, scrapbook paper, decorative punches, and a couple of pretty stickers and went to town.
I used jewel tones (teal, purple, fuschia) because I absolutely love them and I don't care if they are a hideous combination because it's my durned goal board, kthxbye!
So, that's my first project! It got the creative juices flowing, and hopefully will help me curb my...compulsion...too!
Enough living in shame. Enough denial. It's time I admit something.
I have...a sickness. Perhaps affliction is a better word. And I thought I was the only one who had it. I thought I was all alone.
And then, by sheer happenstance, I discovered that others have this problem, too. These women were brave enough to admit it, and they gave me the courage to bring it out into the light. No more hiding. No more silence.
I...I have Craft ADD.
Char, over at Crap I've Made, came out of the craft closet about this sickness. Being all new to this crafty shit and all, I didn't realize that I would become so swamped, so quickly, by so many great exciting creative ideas. And not just about crafts, but art and writing, too. What's worse, I'm a Gemini, and so even if I were not predisposed to being fickle and inattentive, years of people saying "Oh! You fickle Geminis!" certainly rendered me thus. So for the past six weeks, my attention, time, and bank account have been pulled into about 35 different crafty creative directions. I felt frustrated and overwhelmed as much as I felt charged and excited. I thought, "Geez, how am I ever going to get any one project done? I'm an EPIC FAIL before I ever got started."
But Char acknowledges it--the inability to finish a project, the multiple projects she has going at once, and of course, the overwhelming compulsion to swing by the local craft store.
Thank god I'm not alone.
But I am going to make a concerted effort to nip this affliction in the bud. Which is why I present to you, Dear Reader, my first project, The Gimpy Crafter's Goal Board:
(And my messy craft desk)
The idea is simple. The current creative projects are written down and clipped to the board. Evert time I finish a project, a space will become available. I will reach into my stash of ideas that I've written down, blindly grab an idea, and add it to the board. Every time I find a creative idea (or come up with one) that I want to try, I will write it down on a piece of paper and throw it into the stash. Until I pull it out, I will not allow myself to think about it again. I will only focus on the ones that are on the board.
This little project was essentially a small spin-off from the Menu Planning board project that I found on the All Things Beautiful blog. I basically zoomed out to the Dollar Store, picked up a whole bunch of their cheap corkboards, took some Modge Podge, acrylic paint, ribbon, scrapbook paper, decorative punches, and a couple of pretty stickers and went to town.
I used jewel tones (teal, purple, fuschia) because I absolutely love them and I don't care if they are a hideous combination because it's my durned goal board, kthxbye!
So, that's my first project! It got the creative juices flowing, and hopefully will help me curb my...compulsion...too!
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Computer is Ill, I am keeping vigil...
...Since the little laptop decided to stop working, I will be on hiatus for a few days, as I don't like posting at work. But in the meantime, please console yourselves by entering
THE BEST BEAD GIVEAWAY EVER!!!
Check out this lovely giveaway here at Denise Yezbak Moore's blog!
See you in a few days!
THE BEST BEAD GIVEAWAY EVER!!!
Check out this lovely giveaway here at Denise Yezbak Moore's blog!
See you in a few days!
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Acorns and Trees
Tonight, while buzzed on a gin gimlet (okay, two) I was scrolling through my Google Reader. It's the night before Father's Day, and in my collection of Mommy/Homemaker Blogs, that's a BIG DEAL (who knew?). A lot of ladies are blogging about Father's Day crafty gift ideas, and more power to them. I should, in fact, do something for my husband Himself. He's a dad, twice over. And I will call my grandfather, and email my ex-stepfather, and call my ex-partner, the beloved Mr. Indiana, who is a fairly new father.
But that's all.
You might notice the factor missing from this equation: my biological father.
In recent years, when referring to him, I've taken to referring to him by his Christian name.
Jim.
Not Dad.
He and my mother divorced when I was very young, like 6 months old or so. He was not consistently present when I was growing up, and from years 9-14, he was not present at all. That he became a presence in my life from that point on, I owe to his father, my fraternal grandfather. He engineered a reunion, and for years, my father and I stayed in touch. He became involved, more or less. Certainly emotionally, more or less financially. I have to give credit where it's due: he helped fund my summer in England when I was 19, and he made my first year of grad school a little bit easier. But he also gave my maternal grandparents a lot of grief when they asked if he would be helping out with my college tuition, as they were. I still remember how upset they were--Mawga and Boppa never repeated whatever he said to them, but the look in their eyes was enough.
The time came, almost four years ago, when my father decided he no longer approved of me. He thought I was immature, selfish, disrespectful, ungrateful, insolent...and who knows? Maybe I was. Maybe I am. Probably I am. But it's worth noting that he "cancelled his subscription" (his words, not mine), and since he did that (and also, before) no one else has laid those accusations at my doorstep. He sent me a very curt card, cutting off communication, and his wife my stepmother did as well. And I've not heard from him since.
And I must say, life is a little bit easier.
He doesn't like me, Jim doesn't. He doesn't approve of the person that I've become. And you know what? That's okay. I'm the one who has to live inside my own head and wake up and go to sleep with myself every day, and you know what? I like the person I have become. More or less.
Anyway, I've been reading all these "Yay! Father's Day" posts, and it's a little foreign to me. And then I encountered one where the author made the remark about the how the "apple doesn't fall far from the tree"--all of us are a product of our parents.
And I began to ruminate.
If that was the case, that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, considering my parents, I'm screwed. If that's the case, I have my father's assholish, selfish mannerisms, his belligerence and skill at brow-beating, his coldness. If that's the case, I have my mother's hoarding tendencies, her slightly vindictive streak, her foul mouth, her particular brand of illogic, her self-survival instincts which trumps everything, even filial and maternal duty.
But then I stopped with the negative and asked myself--why do I only have to have inherited the bad? If the apple stayed close to the tree, couldn't it also have been an apple which had the flavorful juices of my father's artistic talent and creativity, his sense of adventure, his sometimes-spot-on logic? Couldn't it also have been an apple which had the nutrition of my mother'sunfailingly unconditional love, her sharp but true sense of humor, her stringent honesty with her own failings?
We are the sum of our parents, and so much more. We have their failings and their strengths, and remarkable qualities and weaknesses that are unique to us. And in the absence of a loving and supportive biological father, that is what I will celebrate this Father's Day.
But that's all.
You might notice the factor missing from this equation: my biological father.
In recent years, when referring to him, I've taken to referring to him by his Christian name.
Jim.
Not Dad.
He and my mother divorced when I was very young, like 6 months old or so. He was not consistently present when I was growing up, and from years 9-14, he was not present at all. That he became a presence in my life from that point on, I owe to his father, my fraternal grandfather. He engineered a reunion, and for years, my father and I stayed in touch. He became involved, more or less. Certainly emotionally, more or less financially. I have to give credit where it's due: he helped fund my summer in England when I was 19, and he made my first year of grad school a little bit easier. But he also gave my maternal grandparents a lot of grief when they asked if he would be helping out with my college tuition, as they were. I still remember how upset they were--Mawga and Boppa never repeated whatever he said to them, but the look in their eyes was enough.
The time came, almost four years ago, when my father decided he no longer approved of me. He thought I was immature, selfish, disrespectful, ungrateful, insolent...and who knows? Maybe I was. Maybe I am. Probably I am. But it's worth noting that he "cancelled his subscription" (his words, not mine), and since he did that (and also, before) no one else has laid those accusations at my doorstep. He sent me a very curt card, cutting off communication, and his wife my stepmother did as well. And I've not heard from him since.
And I must say, life is a little bit easier.
He doesn't like me, Jim doesn't. He doesn't approve of the person that I've become. And you know what? That's okay. I'm the one who has to live inside my own head and wake up and go to sleep with myself every day, and you know what? I like the person I have become. More or less.
Anyway, I've been reading all these "Yay! Father's Day" posts, and it's a little foreign to me. And then I encountered one where the author made the remark about the how the "apple doesn't fall far from the tree"--all of us are a product of our parents.
And I began to ruminate.
If that was the case, that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, considering my parents, I'm screwed. If that's the case, I have my father's assholish, selfish mannerisms, his belligerence and skill at brow-beating, his coldness. If that's the case, I have my mother's hoarding tendencies, her slightly vindictive streak, her foul mouth, her particular brand of illogic, her self-survival instincts which trumps everything, even filial and maternal duty.
But then I stopped with the negative and asked myself--why do I only have to have inherited the bad? If the apple stayed close to the tree, couldn't it also have been an apple which had the flavorful juices of my father's artistic talent and creativity, his sense of adventure, his sometimes-spot-on logic? Couldn't it also have been an apple which had the nutrition of my mother'sunfailingly unconditional love, her sharp but true sense of humor, her stringent honesty with her own failings?
We are the sum of our parents, and so much more. We have their failings and their strengths, and remarkable qualities and weaknesses that are unique to us. And in the absence of a loving and supportive biological father, that is what I will celebrate this Father's Day.
Satisfied on Saturday: Happiness Is...
On this Saturday evening, happiness is composed of several things:
1. Not once, during this entire day, did I have to set out in the wicked desert heat.
2. (So far) Making good on my promise to use the exercise bike every day
3. Cleaning and organizing the craft studio
(Sadly, these pictures were taken AFTER I organized the Crap--er, Craft Studio)
(The base of operations, kinda. That sounds much better than "where I d-ck around on the computer.")
(My sister, Thing One, will recognize some of the books in the bookcase. Lordy knows she helped me pack up enough of them throughout the years. Sadly, they've only spawned and multiplied since she last saw them.)
And the fourth and final definition of happiness on a Saturday night is...
4.) A lovely, strong gin gimlet in one of my martini glasses after I am done organizing the Craft Studio
(Maybe I should have made it PRIOR to the organization project!)
Tomorrow we're escaping the desert heat and caravaning down to the beaches of San Diego. There, despite my girly-girl ways, you will find me boogie-boarding in the surprisingly chilly 70-degree waters. And then...a big ol' International Film Fest is going to take up all of the time and energy of Himself this week, so this is his last period of fun and relaxation before all the movie industry divas and diva-wannabes descend upon the desert.
Makes my line of work seem downright stress-free in comparison! Maybe I'll be more wife than poo this week and cook some dinner and bring it to his work.
Happy Saturday!
1. Not once, during this entire day, did I have to set out in the wicked desert heat.
2. (So far) Making good on my promise to use the exercise bike every day
3. Cleaning and organizing the craft studio
(Sadly, these pictures were taken AFTER I organized the Crap--er, Craft Studio)
(The base of operations, kinda. That sounds much better than "where I d-ck around on the computer.")
(My sister, Thing One, will recognize some of the books in the bookcase. Lordy knows she helped me pack up enough of them throughout the years. Sadly, they've only spawned and multiplied since she last saw them.)
And the fourth and final definition of happiness on a Saturday night is...
4.) A lovely, strong gin gimlet in one of my martini glasses after I am done organizing the Craft Studio
(Maybe I should have made it PRIOR to the organization project!)
Tomorrow we're escaping the desert heat and caravaning down to the beaches of San Diego. There, despite my girly-girl ways, you will find me boogie-boarding in the surprisingly chilly 70-degree waters. And then...a big ol' International Film Fest is going to take up all of the time and energy of Himself this week, so this is his last period of fun and relaxation before all the movie industry divas and diva-wannabes descend upon the desert.
Makes my line of work seem downright stress-free in comparison! Maybe I'll be more wife than poo this week and cook some dinner and bring it to his work.
Happy Saturday!
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Five on Friday: The Freaky Fabulous Life of an Un-California girl (Along With Thoughts on Thursday: Living the Life of Someone Else's Dreams)
A little bit of photography detailing the freaky and fabulous things that can be found in the deserts of Southern California.
The tram that takes you from the 100-degree desert to the 65-degree mountaintop in 15 minutes:
The odd things people think it's acceptable do to their undersized dogs:
(This poor little guy does not belong to me, by the way)
The view where I work:
The sun-drenched beach trips:
The patriotic Drag Queen Shows:
So, early Thursday morning (like, early early) I had one of my occasional epiphanies.
Himself and I have this dream...not too long ago, we hatched this plan to someday (like, NO TIME soon) move to Asheville, NC. And it's a thought that's been taking root ever since, gaining nourishment from our bad days, our stressful days, my homesickness, Himself's desire for change. We're going to start looking at property there next year.
Already, I am trying to mentally prepare myself for the very far-off day in which we can make that transition. The latest preparations took the form of me doing a blogger search by location, looking for interesting bloggers who live in Asheville.
In my typical Gemini manner, I got fairly distracted very quickly. The blogs that I found weren't what I was looking for; didn't quite capture the fabulousness that must be felt when living in a place like Asheville, NC. Holy crap! I thought. These people live in Asheville, North Carolina, one of the most awesome places on Earth, and they can't even really depict their fabulous life in their blog. I could cheerfully strangle them right now.
And then it hit me--brutally, suddenly, and deservedly, as it usually does. I somehow had a moment of insight beyond my own little life and briefly wondered if somewhere in this country, some young girl is sitting here, daydreaming about a future fabulous life in Palm Springs, searching for blogs which really capture the life that she wants to have some day.
And here I am, epically failing to fulfill her desire.
So, can't promise anything, but Sassy's going to try to inject a little bit of Palm Springs funk into her blogging style. Can't hurt, right?
Oh! Bonus Shot:
The Liberal Pet Policies in Public Buildings:
The tram that takes you from the 100-degree desert to the 65-degree mountaintop in 15 minutes:
The odd things people think it's acceptable do to their undersized dogs:
(This poor little guy does not belong to me, by the way)
The view where I work:
The sun-drenched beach trips:
The patriotic Drag Queen Shows:
So, early Thursday morning (like, early early) I had one of my occasional epiphanies.
Himself and I have this dream...not too long ago, we hatched this plan to someday (like, NO TIME soon) move to Asheville, NC. And it's a thought that's been taking root ever since, gaining nourishment from our bad days, our stressful days, my homesickness, Himself's desire for change. We're going to start looking at property there next year.
Already, I am trying to mentally prepare myself for the very far-off day in which we can make that transition. The latest preparations took the form of me doing a blogger search by location, looking for interesting bloggers who live in Asheville.
In my typical Gemini manner, I got fairly distracted very quickly. The blogs that I found weren't what I was looking for; didn't quite capture the fabulousness that must be felt when living in a place like Asheville, NC. Holy crap! I thought. These people live in Asheville, North Carolina, one of the most awesome places on Earth, and they can't even really depict their fabulous life in their blog. I could cheerfully strangle them right now.
And then it hit me--brutally, suddenly, and deservedly, as it usually does. I somehow had a moment of insight beyond my own little life and briefly wondered if somewhere in this country, some young girl is sitting here, daydreaming about a future fabulous life in Palm Springs, searching for blogs which really capture the life that she wants to have some day.
And here I am, epically failing to fulfill her desire.
So, can't promise anything, but Sassy's going to try to inject a little bit of Palm Springs funk into her blogging style. Can't hurt, right?
Oh! Bonus Shot:
The Liberal Pet Policies in Public Buildings:
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Work on Wednesday: When the Political Becomes Personal
A rather lengthy disclaimer:
When trying to figure out the nature and feel of this here bloggy thing, I was really overwhelmed with what it could be. So many options...crafty, self-helpy, booky, worky, research-y...the one thing that I was sure about was what I DIDN'T want it to be...I didn't want it to be a politically-charged blog. It's not that I don't follow politics, or don't vote; rather, it's the opposite. I have very decided political and social opinions, and while I'm all about the free speech, I figured in this arena, for me, discretion was the better part of valor. I don't want any potential readers to feel uncomfortable or provoke their disapprobation. (Yes, I am guilty of the mortal sin of wanting to be liked.) As well, on the off chance that anyone figures out where I work, I never want this blog or its content to be interpreted or seen as a reflection of the views of my employers.
But, as I began ruminating over today's blog entry, one thing became painfully clear to me: in my profession, things get political very quickly. So there's going to be some politics here, from time to time. Like it or lump it, I say. Personal, professional, and political tend to blend together.
So, on that note...
Last week, as I was perusing my various professional publications, an interesting article caught my eye. I'll include excerpts from the article in bold; my initial thoughts in italics and quotes.
Indiana-East Chicago Public Library Director Manny Montalvo and his wife were arrested by transit police Thursday at the Millenium Park Metra Station, where police said the couple were heavily intoxicated, tried to board an empty South Shore train, and shoved and verbally abused officers who told them to leave the platform.Montalvo on Friday said he would fight charges of disorderly conduct, criminal trespass and battery of a police officer, and denied that he or his wife were intoxicated.
The Montalvos became abusive, shouting obscenities at the officers who pointed out signs posted at the platform stating loud and disruptive behavior is not allowed on NICTD trains.
"Whoa, the newspaper's really screwing this up, not specifying that this is ALLEGED behavior. What ever happened to innocent until proven guilty?"
"How come they didn't do no Breathalyzer? They didn't try to charge me with any alcohol charges because they knew they wouldn't stick," said Montalvo.
"Oh, HELL no. Oh no he didn't!"
Yeah, from that point on, "innocent until proven guilty" went out the window for me. It's not a particularly great reflection on me, I think, but I'll be the first to admit that I do a little bit of judging of a person based on their grammar and ability to articulate. It's not the sole basis for my opinions, but it weighs in, especially if the only thing I know about you is what you write. And when I read Montalvo's words, that was it. The end. Game over. What sort of Library Director talks like that?
Here's the uncomfortable truth: Public Library employees are government workers. They serve cities, counties, states, or special districts, and they are public servants. Not only do we serve the public, but we represent our government entity. I'm a bit of an unconventional patriot, but a patriot nonetheless, and I feel that there should be a great deal of honor and pride invested in being a government employee. It's an opportunity to serve the country, serve humanity, and do a part in forming "a more perfect union" and a better humanity.
And instead, government employees are loathed. We're laughed at, mocked, disrespected, thought ill of, regarded as corrupt, indifferent, incompetent, overpaid, and a bureaucratic sack of flesh and air. We should be proud to be government employees, and we should be doing all we can to bring approbation to our employers and success to our constituents. We should be worthy of the tax dollars spent on us, we should leave people thinking "Hey! They really DO deserve those pensions!" (Because let's face it, folks, cops and teachers and librarians and prosecuting attorneys don't go into our respective lines of work for the fame, glory, and riches. It's hard enough keeping body and soul together on our salaries; forget about making substantial investments to retirement. Is a decent pension really so unreasonable a reward for those who choose to dedicate their lives to serving a demanding public?)
In this economic climate, when libraries and schools are fighting tooth and nail for every cent they can come across, it's more important than ever for government employees to present a positive image to the country. We hold our presidents and politicians to a very high standard of behavior, and perhaps we, as government employees, should think about adopting those similar standards.
And learn how to talk correctly, too.
When trying to figure out the nature and feel of this here bloggy thing, I was really overwhelmed with what it could be. So many options...crafty, self-helpy, booky, worky, research-y...the one thing that I was sure about was what I DIDN'T want it to be...I didn't want it to be a politically-charged blog. It's not that I don't follow politics, or don't vote; rather, it's the opposite. I have very decided political and social opinions, and while I'm all about the free speech, I figured in this arena, for me, discretion was the better part of valor. I don't want any potential readers to feel uncomfortable or provoke their disapprobation. (Yes, I am guilty of the mortal sin of wanting to be liked.) As well, on the off chance that anyone figures out where I work, I never want this blog or its content to be interpreted or seen as a reflection of the views of my employers.
But, as I began ruminating over today's blog entry, one thing became painfully clear to me: in my profession, things get political very quickly. So there's going to be some politics here, from time to time. Like it or lump it, I say. Personal, professional, and political tend to blend together.
So, on that note...
Last week, as I was perusing my various professional publications, an interesting article caught my eye. I'll include excerpts from the article in bold; my initial thoughts in italics and quotes.
Indiana-East Chicago Public Library Director Manny Montalvo and his wife were arrested by transit police Thursday at the Millenium Park Metra Station, where police said the couple were heavily intoxicated, tried to board an empty South Shore train, and shoved and verbally abused officers who told them to leave the platform.Montalvo on Friday said he would fight charges of disorderly conduct, criminal trespass and battery of a police officer, and denied that he or his wife were intoxicated.
"We were at the Cubs game and we were running late, trying to get on the train and the cop is yelling at us and berating us," said Montalvo. "We needed to get on that train and get home to our kids."
"This could really be a misunderstanding. After all, cops aren't exactly known for giving the most accurate version of events."The Montalvos became abusive, shouting obscenities at the officers who pointed out signs posted at the platform stating loud and disruptive behavior is not allowed on NICTD trains.
"Whoa, the newspaper's really screwing this up, not specifying that this is ALLEGED behavior. What ever happened to innocent until proven guilty?"
"How come they didn't do no Breathalyzer? They didn't try to charge me with any alcohol charges because they knew they wouldn't stick," said Montalvo.
"Oh, HELL no. Oh no he didn't!"
Yeah, from that point on, "innocent until proven guilty" went out the window for me. It's not a particularly great reflection on me, I think, but I'll be the first to admit that I do a little bit of judging of a person based on their grammar and ability to articulate. It's not the sole basis for my opinions, but it weighs in, especially if the only thing I know about you is what you write. And when I read Montalvo's words, that was it. The end. Game over. What sort of Library Director talks like that?
Here's the uncomfortable truth: Public Library employees are government workers. They serve cities, counties, states, or special districts, and they are public servants. Not only do we serve the public, but we represent our government entity. I'm a bit of an unconventional patriot, but a patriot nonetheless, and I feel that there should be a great deal of honor and pride invested in being a government employee. It's an opportunity to serve the country, serve humanity, and do a part in forming "a more perfect union" and a better humanity.
And instead, government employees are loathed. We're laughed at, mocked, disrespected, thought ill of, regarded as corrupt, indifferent, incompetent, overpaid, and a bureaucratic sack of flesh and air. We should be proud to be government employees, and we should be doing all we can to bring approbation to our employers and success to our constituents. We should be worthy of the tax dollars spent on us, we should leave people thinking "Hey! They really DO deserve those pensions!" (Because let's face it, folks, cops and teachers and librarians and prosecuting attorneys don't go into our respective lines of work for the fame, glory, and riches. It's hard enough keeping body and soul together on our salaries; forget about making substantial investments to retirement. Is a decent pension really so unreasonable a reward for those who choose to dedicate their lives to serving a demanding public?)
In this economic climate, when libraries and schools are fighting tooth and nail for every cent they can come across, it's more important than ever for government employees to present a positive image to the country. We hold our presidents and politicians to a very high standard of behavior, and perhaps we, as government employees, should think about adopting those similar standards.
And learn how to talk correctly, too.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
All Together on Tuesday: Redemption!
It's absolutely amazing, what productive results an antisocial evening in can yield. After lamenting away on my lunch break about how hopelessly sucky I am with regards to organization and productivity, I managed to pull myself together, come home, and:
Over and out.
- Washed my bathing suit
- Used the exercise bike for 20 minutes
- Washed and dried (but did not fold) a load of whites
- Gave myself a manicure
- Blogged
- Wrote a little
- Ordered scrapbooking supplies
- Ordered prints from the wedding
- Spent time with Himself via dinner and a movie
- Switched vacation wallet over to other, real-life wallet
- Passed on insurance paperwork to Himself
- Watered succulents
- Made bed (okay, I did that this morning)
- Laid out medications/supplements for the next four days
- Scooped kitty litter
- Plotted what outfit to wear to work on the morrow
- I even...located the thank you cards that went missing when I cleaned up and organized the craft studio (I know, pathetic. I get organized...and things get lost.) The downside to this is that now I have no excuses to keep on writing the thank-you cards, and the to-do list just got longer.
Over and out.
Together on Tuesday: Yeah, Right.
Here's a secret for you: I'm not so together, this Tuesday.
I've been back at work for all of a week, now, and already life is in its normal state of jumbled-up busyness and organization. Thank god for Himself--not only did he make me a margarita which surpassed the size of my largely-useless reproductive system, he cleaned the condo yesterday. If it weren't for him, I'd probably be a quivering stressball right now.
It's weird, it's totally psychological, but if my home is disordered, I feel so restless, so ill-at-ease, so not-together. I feel like I can't do anything until the home is in order.
So I get it in order.
It just doesn't stay that way.
All of my high-minded goals--planning meals for the week, planning my work outfits, setting up a chore chart--all of them fall by the wayside as I find myself struggling just to hold the line. Doing the laundry, getting enough sleep, feeding the cats, the kind of quotidian stuff that needs to happen every day, or almost--that's the stuff that absorbs my energy and attention. The extra projects, and the planning of a more sane life, that's all stuff I barely have time to think about, let alone tackle.
Wah, wah, wah. Woe is me.
In her blog, Organizing Solutions's Marcia Francois Joburg advises adding only 6 things a day to your to-do list when life gets hectic. I thought that was a great idea, but misunderstood it as adding as many items as you want, but committing to doing only 6 items a day. That actually works for me better than her original idea, because if I didn't add everything, I'd forget!
So, that's how I'm keeping it together this Tuesday. I'm gonna do 6 things, and call it a good day.
Photo ganked from http://seamripper.wordpress.com/
This is not my life. But sweet fancy Moses willing, one day it will be!
I've been back at work for all of a week, now, and already life is in its normal state of jumbled-up busyness and organization. Thank god for Himself--not only did he make me a margarita which surpassed the size of my largely-useless reproductive system, he cleaned the condo yesterday. If it weren't for him, I'd probably be a quivering stressball right now.
It's weird, it's totally psychological, but if my home is disordered, I feel so restless, so ill-at-ease, so not-together. I feel like I can't do anything until the home is in order.
So I get it in order.
It just doesn't stay that way.
All of my high-minded goals--planning meals for the week, planning my work outfits, setting up a chore chart--all of them fall by the wayside as I find myself struggling just to hold the line. Doing the laundry, getting enough sleep, feeding the cats, the kind of quotidian stuff that needs to happen every day, or almost--that's the stuff that absorbs my energy and attention. The extra projects, and the planning of a more sane life, that's all stuff I barely have time to think about, let alone tackle.
Wah, wah, wah. Woe is me.
In her blog, Organizing Solutions's Marcia Francois Joburg advises adding only 6 things a day to your to-do list when life gets hectic. I thought that was a great idea, but misunderstood it as adding as many items as you want, but committing to doing only 6 items a day. That actually works for me better than her original idea, because if I didn't add everything, I'd forget!
So, that's how I'm keeping it together this Tuesday. I'm gonna do 6 things, and call it a good day.
Photo ganked from http://seamripper.wordpress.com/
This is not my life. But sweet fancy Moses willing, one day it will be!
Monday, June 14, 2010
Breaking News
...I have the world's best husband.
After a long and draining Monday, what better thing to come home to than a husband who has made you a margarita as big as your head?
On the minus side, this might complicate tonight's crafty endeavor. Oh dear.
After a long and draining Monday, what better thing to come home to than a husband who has made you a margarita as big as your head?
On the minus side, this might complicate tonight's crafty endeavor. Oh dear.
Making on Mondays: Myself
Yesterday, at the end of a hellaciously busy weekend which may or may not have included a pomeranian, a burrow, a tempramental chef, and a little-too-gropey politician, I was ready to have a break from my weekend. I put on my jammies, ordered a pizza, wearily folded some laundry, and eagerly anticipated an episode of lost with Himself.
And then my phone rang.
It was my sister, Thing One, and one of three people in the world that I would delight in talking to. So of course I picked up, only to be greeted with her anxious voice asking, "Are you alright?"
"Uh, yeah, Thing One. Why?"
"Because you haven't blogged in two days. I thought you might be dead."
And there you go. I had every intention of going through the blogging process on both Saturday and Sunday, but the schedule was literally packed from Friday night to Sunday night. Thing One says that blogging should be done for pleasure, not to be regarded as something I have to do, because therein lies the way of resentment. She's wise, Thing One is, so I'll try to take it to heart. So here's a promise: don't resent me for not posting, and I won't resent you for...well, anything.
Anyway, what am I making this Monday? Myself. But first, a little vignette to extrapolate:
It had been a fun, exciting day so far. Himself and Sassy Kitten weren't normally the guided tour type, but they made an exception for the Cancun Jungle Tour. And they were glad they did--they were in the vehicle with the guide, with one other car behind them, and that was it. They had made their way through the ruins, fed a dozen skittish iguanas, and had proceeded deep into the heart of the jungle. The small group of people finally got out of their vehicles, stretched, and reluctantly crept towards the edge of the cliff. Far, far below, glittering in the intense Yucatan heat and humidity, a cenote beckoned.
They were all sweating profusely, and it looked so tantalizing. One of the tourists asked, "How far below is it?"
"Thirty feet." The guide glanced around, a mischevious smile on his face. "Who wants to be the first Mayan sacrifice?"
Unyielding silence from the group. And then, Himself spoke up, in some confusion. "Where's Sassy?"
Everyone looked at each other, alarmed. And then, from far below, they heard a faint splash.
That's right. I jumped off a cliff, falling thirty feet (it was a lot farther down than it sounded) into a pool of cool, 120-feet-deep water. It hurt like the dickens. I did it because I wanted to, I did it because I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. And I could do it, and I did do it--not very well, I have to add. I bruised my tailbone pretty badly.
And then I went and did it again, for good measure.
The moral of this story? I've proven to myself, time and again, that I am perfectly capable of doing things that end up being bad for me. So let's turn this around on its head, shall we? I am going to now prove to myself that I am capable of doing things that are good for me. I am going to make myself. Whatever that means. Each month, I will set a goal and try to meet that goal once a day, to prove to myself that I can, and to see how I benefit from it.
So! The first month (or, I should say, 30-day-stretch) will begin tomorrow and go until July 15. And the first month's goal is to use my exercise bike every day. It can be for five minutes, or fifteen minutes, or fifty. Any of it is good for me. So! As of tomorrow, I jump off the cliff of bad decisions and hopefully plummet into the waters of Better Things.
In the meantime, I leave you with this image:
I won't be cliff-jumping again any time soon!
And then my phone rang.
It was my sister, Thing One, and one of three people in the world that I would delight in talking to. So of course I picked up, only to be greeted with her anxious voice asking, "Are you alright?"
"Uh, yeah, Thing One. Why?"
"Because you haven't blogged in two days. I thought you might be dead."
And there you go. I had every intention of going through the blogging process on both Saturday and Sunday, but the schedule was literally packed from Friday night to Sunday night. Thing One says that blogging should be done for pleasure, not to be regarded as something I have to do, because therein lies the way of resentment. She's wise, Thing One is, so I'll try to take it to heart. So here's a promise: don't resent me for not posting, and I won't resent you for...well, anything.
Anyway, what am I making this Monday? Myself. But first, a little vignette to extrapolate:
It had been a fun, exciting day so far. Himself and Sassy Kitten weren't normally the guided tour type, but they made an exception for the Cancun Jungle Tour. And they were glad they did--they were in the vehicle with the guide, with one other car behind them, and that was it. They had made their way through the ruins, fed a dozen skittish iguanas, and had proceeded deep into the heart of the jungle. The small group of people finally got out of their vehicles, stretched, and reluctantly crept towards the edge of the cliff. Far, far below, glittering in the intense Yucatan heat and humidity, a cenote beckoned.
They were all sweating profusely, and it looked so tantalizing. One of the tourists asked, "How far below is it?"
"Thirty feet." The guide glanced around, a mischevious smile on his face. "Who wants to be the first Mayan sacrifice?"
Unyielding silence from the group. And then, Himself spoke up, in some confusion. "Where's Sassy?"
Everyone looked at each other, alarmed. And then, from far below, they heard a faint splash.
That's right. I jumped off a cliff, falling thirty feet (it was a lot farther down than it sounded) into a pool of cool, 120-feet-deep water. It hurt like the dickens. I did it because I wanted to, I did it because I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. And I could do it, and I did do it--not very well, I have to add. I bruised my tailbone pretty badly.
And then I went and did it again, for good measure.
The moral of this story? I've proven to myself, time and again, that I am perfectly capable of doing things that end up being bad for me. So let's turn this around on its head, shall we? I am going to now prove to myself that I am capable of doing things that are good for me. I am going to make myself. Whatever that means. Each month, I will set a goal and try to meet that goal once a day, to prove to myself that I can, and to see how I benefit from it.
So! The first month (or, I should say, 30-day-stretch) will begin tomorrow and go until July 15. And the first month's goal is to use my exercise bike every day. It can be for five minutes, or fifteen minutes, or fifty. Any of it is good for me. So! As of tomorrow, I jump off the cliff of bad decisions and hopefully plummet into the waters of Better Things.
In the meantime, I leave you with this image:
I won't be cliff-jumping again any time soon!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Five on Friday: A Book Maven's List of Summer Reads
This week I can't really say "tgif" because it's my turn to work the Saturday shift. But that's okay, because I'm not stuck in a job where I'm counting down the minutes until the weekend.
And at least I have weekends, usually. In my last job--which was also my first official librarian gig--I didn't have weekends. I had days off: Sundays and Wednesdays. Absolutely brutal, and not exactly inducement for exploring the Southern California region.
But I digress.
It's been a fairly busy and productive week, all things considered, except in one very important area: reading. I didn't finish any books this week, nor did I make too much headway in Life Would Be Perfect if I Lived in This House or The Dead Travel Fast. A cardinal offense for a librarian! So, to begin atonement, I present this week's Five on Friday: A Librarian's Summer Reading List
The Happiness Project, by Gretchen Rubin
It's non-fiction, which is a weak point of mine. I feel compelled to pause every 30 seconds and take notes, a most disturbing and lingering habit from college. But this has a certain memoir-feel to it; combine with that the distinct flavor of self-help and the fact that there's a rather intense blog about it and it's very orderly, and oh yes, the cover is a lovely shade of blue (librarians' collection development secret revealed!) and I give up, it's going to be the first book in the book group that I will establish this summer!
(Note to self: Establish book group this summer).
The Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron
My eldest sister Thing One and I will both be reading this book and the accompanying workbook this summer. She's a frustrated artist, and I am a deeply intimidated artist-wannabe, and again, the self-help nature, combined with the planned lesson format (and did I mention there's a workbook?) make this a deeply appealing read for a very Gemini person.
We'll be starting it on the Summer Solstice.
Sarah's Key, by Tatiana de Rosnay.
Okay, so this one actually is assigned reading. The Library's book group invited me to lead a discussion on Atonement last year, and I didn't suck! I didn't suck so much that they invited me back this year to lead the discussion group on this WWII historical. Um, yes, please? Book group is in August, so I've got a wee bit of time to read this and work up another not-sucking discussion.
The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger
Confession time: I never read this. Come on, High School English could only cover so many books! And anyway, how many of you have read Bleak House AND enjoyed it? So there. I kind of intensely dislike Salinger and suspect that he was a very wily sexual predator. But what the heck, I'll read his stinkin' book. I'm a librarian, after all. I'll rise above. And possibly grumble a little as I'm rising.
The Last Lecture, by Randy Pausch
We're all about the positive around this here blog, so this is a good one to hitch on to. Randy Pausch wrote this little gem--based on his final lecture, "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams", delivered at Carnegie Mellon University as he was dying of pancreatic cancer. We're also all about the tear-jerking around this here blog, too, apparently. I've heard a lot about this book, and figure it's a nice way to round off the reading list.
Of course, I'll read other stuff, but these five are the primary goals for the summer.
What's on your list?
And at least I have weekends, usually. In my last job--which was also my first official librarian gig--I didn't have weekends. I had days off: Sundays and Wednesdays. Absolutely brutal, and not exactly inducement for exploring the Southern California region.
But I digress.
It's been a fairly busy and productive week, all things considered, except in one very important area: reading. I didn't finish any books this week, nor did I make too much headway in Life Would Be Perfect if I Lived in This House or The Dead Travel Fast. A cardinal offense for a librarian! So, to begin atonement, I present this week's Five on Friday: A Librarian's Summer Reading List
The Happiness Project, by Gretchen RubinIt's non-fiction, which is a weak point of mine. I feel compelled to pause every 30 seconds and take notes, a most disturbing and lingering habit from college. But this has a certain memoir-feel to it; combine with that the distinct flavor of self-help and the fact that there's a rather intense blog about it and it's very orderly, and oh yes, the cover is a lovely shade of blue (librarians' collection development secret revealed!) and I give up, it's going to be the first book in the book group that I will establish this summer!
(Note to self: Establish book group this summer).
The Artist's Way, by Julia CameronMy eldest sister Thing One and I will both be reading this book and the accompanying workbook this summer. She's a frustrated artist, and I am a deeply intimidated artist-wannabe, and again, the self-help nature, combined with the planned lesson format (and did I mention there's a workbook?) make this a deeply appealing read for a very Gemini person.
We'll be starting it on the Summer Solstice.
Sarah's Key, by Tatiana de Rosnay.Okay, so this one actually is assigned reading. The Library's book group invited me to lead a discussion on Atonement last year, and I didn't suck! I didn't suck so much that they invited me back this year to lead the discussion group on this WWII historical. Um, yes, please? Book group is in August, so I've got a wee bit of time to read this and work up another not-sucking discussion.
The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. SalingerConfession time: I never read this. Come on, High School English could only cover so many books! And anyway, how many of you have read Bleak House AND enjoyed it? So there. I kind of intensely dislike Salinger and suspect that he was a very wily sexual predator. But what the heck, I'll read his stinkin' book. I'm a librarian, after all. I'll rise above. And possibly grumble a little as I'm rising.
The Last Lecture, by Randy PauschWe're all about the positive around this here blog, so this is a good one to hitch on to. Randy Pausch wrote this little gem--based on his final lecture, "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams", delivered at Carnegie Mellon University as he was dying of pancreatic cancer. We're also all about the tear-jerking around this here blog, too, apparently. I've heard a lot about this book, and figure it's a nice way to round off the reading list.
Of course, I'll read other stuff, but these five are the primary goals for the summer.
What's on your list?
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Random Thoughts on Thursday: What's in A Name?
There are many many blessings in my life, of this I am aware. But few are as fabulous, as envied, as rare as that coveted real estate phenomenon known as...
The Bonus Room.
Here at Eden (which is what I have decided to call this home), we actually have a Bonus Room. It opens up into the living area (thus making it delightfully central), and it separates the guest wing from the master bedroom. It's a den, really--instead of a closet, there's a little nook with shelves in it. It's not HUGE by any stretch, but it's certainly large enough to accommodate a variety of objects.
At first, we called it the office. Or, more specifically, "The room we never go iIN to." And sometimes "The Clutter Room." Then I got into scrapbooking, and all of my recently-acquired supplies were piled into the room, with no organization. I began to call it the Scrap Room.
Himself began to call it the Crap Room.
In short order, however, I fell down the rabbit hole of crafts that scrapbooking had opened up. More supplies began to trickle into the condo. I began to daydream about painting terra cotta, making beautiful necklaces, generating mixed-media collages, conducting research into my novel, planning meals for the week ahead, assembling a dollhouse...And then, "(s)craproom" was no longer really the right word for it.
After taking the whole room through a major cleaning (not a purge; I'm not that enlightened), the room has been broken down into areas: the desk and shelves where the bills are paid and the homemaking/crafting books and supplies are stored; the "work area" where projects, laptop, and more supplies are stored; the "library" consisting of two 6 foot bookshelves crammed with more books, the kitty's litter box, and then, tucked away in a corner, my "spirituality area." There's a lot going on in this room!
At present, I try to refer to it as "The Craft Room." But every now and then, I feel compelled to call it "the studio." Something--perhaps that nasty Fear Voice that still screams loud and true after all these years, or else that still, small voice of cold, literal logic--tells me that that's pretentious and misleading. After all, studios are for artists, and no artist am I. Sure, I dream big, but at present, all I have are two scrapbook page spreads, one 70% finished fanfic epic, and one heck of a lot of big dreams. This does not an artist make, nor does it make a "studio."
Or does it?
The Bonus Room.
Here at Eden (which is what I have decided to call this home), we actually have a Bonus Room. It opens up into the living area (thus making it delightfully central), and it separates the guest wing from the master bedroom. It's a den, really--instead of a closet, there's a little nook with shelves in it. It's not HUGE by any stretch, but it's certainly large enough to accommodate a variety of objects.
At first, we called it the office. Or, more specifically, "The room we never go iIN to." And sometimes "The Clutter Room." Then I got into scrapbooking, and all of my recently-acquired supplies were piled into the room, with no organization. I began to call it the Scrap Room.
Himself began to call it the Crap Room.
In short order, however, I fell down the rabbit hole of crafts that scrapbooking had opened up. More supplies began to trickle into the condo. I began to daydream about painting terra cotta, making beautiful necklaces, generating mixed-media collages, conducting research into my novel, planning meals for the week ahead, assembling a dollhouse...And then, "(s)craproom" was no longer really the right word for it.
After taking the whole room through a major cleaning (not a purge; I'm not that enlightened), the room has been broken down into areas: the desk and shelves where the bills are paid and the homemaking/crafting books and supplies are stored; the "work area" where projects, laptop, and more supplies are stored; the "library" consisting of two 6 foot bookshelves crammed with more books, the kitty's litter box, and then, tucked away in a corner, my "spirituality area." There's a lot going on in this room!
At present, I try to refer to it as "The Craft Room." But every now and then, I feel compelled to call it "the studio." Something--perhaps that nasty Fear Voice that still screams loud and true after all these years, or else that still, small voice of cold, literal logic--tells me that that's pretentious and misleading. After all, studios are for artists, and no artist am I. Sure, I dream big, but at present, all I have are two scrapbook page spreads, one 70% finished fanfic epic, and one heck of a lot of big dreams. This does not an artist make, nor does it make a "studio."
Or does it?
Work on Wednesday: An Explanation
I will go through my life a childless woman.
Please don't think "Oh, no! How awful!" It's by my own choice that my life has taken that path. I've never been fond of children...or at least children that I do not know. (Which is most children). As I so delicately phrased it once, "Someone forgot to wind up my biological clock." I wasn't going to let children be the "deal-breaker" of a relationship; if my life partner wanted one, fine, I'd pop out a couple and probably make a dang fine parent. Strict, no doubt, but affectionate and involved. However, if left to my own devices, if I had my druthers, I would choose not to bear children. Apart from the not-really-wanting them, there's the whole issue of rearing them. Rearing children is a brave act in the current world, and I admire every parent who turns out a good kid. I believe that a child benefits from a stay-at-home parent (not necessarily mother) and I would have liked to be that parent, at least until they started elementary school. Anything else would be not cool, as far as I'm concerned, but still--how do parents manage to make a single-income household happen? It boggles.
One of the many points of compatibility between me and Himself is our mutual goals with regards to children: not having them. Or, in his case, not having any more. He has two sons already, one fully-grown (Himself is ten years older than me, and got started with the baby-making very early, which means I was still playing with my Barbie dolls while he was...well...playing with his Barbie doll), and that's quite enough.
So, no children. I have an unofficial godchild in Wesley the Hoosier Dude, and a more handsome bairn there never was. And I have my stepsons. And that's it. And everyone is more than happy with this. I have other things, other interests, other desires; and more than that, I have my career.
A career and a child are not mutually exclusive. Nor are they particularly comparable (apples and oranges, actually). But my career is where a HUGE portion of my energy is focused, and so it only seems fair that my blog focuses on it, at least a little, in the same way that some of the blogs that I read focus at least some on their children. My career is not the only thing that defines me, but it is one of the things. And it's a major point within this blog to explore how I can successfully combine the identities of "career girl" and "home manager."
So, there's that.
Fortunately, I love my career. I'm an adult services librarian, which sounds much naughty than it is. Essentially, I'm an information mistress, a book maven, and a ditch-digging data dude. I work with the public, I get paid to be curious and research, I have a wide variety of duties, and I am constantly exposed to more, more, more information. I get to learn new stuff all the time. I love my bosses (and there are quite a few of them), and I love my colleagues.
In short, in choosing to be a librarian, I chose to spend a good deal of my life in Heaven on Earth--which should hopefully make for some interesting reading when it comes to Work on Wednesdays!
Please don't think "Oh, no! How awful!" It's by my own choice that my life has taken that path. I've never been fond of children...or at least children that I do not know. (Which is most children). As I so delicately phrased it once, "Someone forgot to wind up my biological clock." I wasn't going to let children be the "deal-breaker" of a relationship; if my life partner wanted one, fine, I'd pop out a couple and probably make a dang fine parent. Strict, no doubt, but affectionate and involved. However, if left to my own devices, if I had my druthers, I would choose not to bear children. Apart from the not-really-wanting them, there's the whole issue of rearing them. Rearing children is a brave act in the current world, and I admire every parent who turns out a good kid. I believe that a child benefits from a stay-at-home parent (not necessarily mother) and I would have liked to be that parent, at least until they started elementary school. Anything else would be not cool, as far as I'm concerned, but still--how do parents manage to make a single-income household happen? It boggles.
One of the many points of compatibility between me and Himself is our mutual goals with regards to children: not having them. Or, in his case, not having any more. He has two sons already, one fully-grown (Himself is ten years older than me, and got started with the baby-making very early, which means I was still playing with my Barbie dolls while he was...well...playing with his Barbie doll), and that's quite enough.
So, no children. I have an unofficial godchild in Wesley the Hoosier Dude, and a more handsome bairn there never was. And I have my stepsons. And that's it. And everyone is more than happy with this. I have other things, other interests, other desires; and more than that, I have my career.
A career and a child are not mutually exclusive. Nor are they particularly comparable (apples and oranges, actually). But my career is where a HUGE portion of my energy is focused, and so it only seems fair that my blog focuses on it, at least a little, in the same way that some of the blogs that I read focus at least some on their children. My career is not the only thing that defines me, but it is one of the things. And it's a major point within this blog to explore how I can successfully combine the identities of "career girl" and "home manager."
So, there's that.
Fortunately, I love my career. I'm an adult services librarian, which sounds much naughty than it is. Essentially, I'm an information mistress, a book maven, and a ditch-digging data dude. I work with the public, I get paid to be curious and research, I have a wide variety of duties, and I am constantly exposed to more, more, more information. I get to learn new stuff all the time. I love my bosses (and there are quite a few of them), and I love my colleagues.
In short, in choosing to be a librarian, I chose to spend a good deal of my life in Heaven on Earth--which should hopefully make for some interesting reading when it comes to Work on Wednesdays!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
All Together on Tuesday: The Latest Version of the World's Best Planner
Hi! Welcome to the Very First All Together on Tuesday post! This Very First Post is going to take the form of an (initial) product review, and will include the obligatory and gratuitous self-deprecationg humor.
"Get It Together" Product: Mead OrganizHer Flexible Solutions Family Organizer
Available in Target Stores (not online, as far as I can tell) for roughly $14.99...I could not find it online.
Originally I came across this lovely, kinda teal thing back in May, when I was meandering through Target trying to find things that I absolutely had to have for the honeymoon. This planner caught my eye, and after we returned to Sunnydale, I ventured out to Target to see if it was still there.
It was.
After perusing it for a few moments, I decided I quite liked it. Between Himself and me, as well as all of our little well-intended goals and social obligations and independent projects and in his case, speaking engagements, we've got a pretty whacky schedule. And we're constantly asking eachother "What are the plans for the eighteenth?" "I think we've got the Museum fundraiser." "No, that's on the twentieth. I think the eighteenth is free...we need to have so-and-so over." "No, wait, you have a program at..."
You get the picture. And so I dropped the money on this organizer, which will most assuredly help me get my life in order, and keep track of Himself's, as well. Of course, it replaces the previous planner which I thought would be the answer to all of my life goals, concerns, and issues; and that planner had replaced the calendars I had before that...Yeah. I am hoping someone out there knows what I am talking about.
Anyone? Other than the crickets chirping?
So. Moving along. Here's some basic stuff about it: It's about 9 inches wide, 11.5 inches tall, so it's not a compact little thing you can easily haul around. That's both a pro and a con in my book--portability is nice, but too small and it's danged tricky to write in without having three-inch claws for hands.
There are two little pouches inside, kinda zip-loc style. Right now I am keeping our gift cards and our post-wedding registry coupons in there. And then there's a whole bunch of undated pages, with the days of the week arranged in column format with a notes column at the farthest right. You write in the dates yourself. Within the columns are several sections: "All Me", "All Them", "Lunch", "Dinner", "Notes". Then, at the very back is a menu planning section and an "important phone numbers" section. The idea is that I will keep the hard copy and make a photocopy for Himself each week, to be updated as we need it. Here are some pictures of the first week "in action":
Two-Page Spread (Click for Larger)
Individual Views of Spread (Mon-Thurs on Left, Fri-Sun + Notes on Right)
(Click for Larger)
"Get It Together" Product: Mead OrganizHer Flexible Solutions Family Organizer
Available in Target Stores (not online, as far as I can tell) for roughly $14.99...I could not find it online.
Originally I came across this lovely, kinda teal thing back in May, when I was meandering through Target trying to find things that I absolutely had to have for the honeymoon. This planner caught my eye, and after we returned to Sunnydale, I ventured out to Target to see if it was still there.
It was.
After perusing it for a few moments, I decided I quite liked it. Between Himself and me, as well as all of our little well-intended goals and social obligations and independent projects and in his case, speaking engagements, we've got a pretty whacky schedule. And we're constantly asking eachother "What are the plans for the eighteenth?" "I think we've got the Museum fundraiser." "No, that's on the twentieth. I think the eighteenth is free...we need to have so-and-so over." "No, wait, you have a program at..."
You get the picture. And so I dropped the money on this organizer, which will most assuredly help me get my life in order, and keep track of Himself's, as well. Of course, it replaces the previous planner which I thought would be the answer to all of my life goals, concerns, and issues; and that planner had replaced the calendars I had before that...Yeah. I am hoping someone out there knows what I am talking about.
Anyone? Other than the crickets chirping?
So. Moving along. Here's some basic stuff about it: It's about 9 inches wide, 11.5 inches tall, so it's not a compact little thing you can easily haul around. That's both a pro and a con in my book--portability is nice, but too small and it's danged tricky to write in without having three-inch claws for hands.
There are two little pouches inside, kinda zip-loc style. Right now I am keeping our gift cards and our post-wedding registry coupons in there. And then there's a whole bunch of undated pages, with the days of the week arranged in column format with a notes column at the farthest right. You write in the dates yourself. Within the columns are several sections: "All Me", "All Them", "Lunch", "Dinner", "Notes". Then, at the very back is a menu planning section and an "important phone numbers" section. The idea is that I will keep the hard copy and make a photocopy for Himself each week, to be updated as we need it. Here are some pictures of the first week "in action":
Two-Page Spread (Click for Larger)
(Click for Larger)
Observations Thus Far:
Cons:
The family planner has been in use 12 hours, so this is just an initial review. Perhaps in a month or two I will revisit it, to see if it has truly solved all my issues, or if it has been exiled to a pile of papers, in which all the other life-changing planners reside.
Will this be the answer to my organizational woes? Will this help me to achieve the life that I've always wanted? (Because apparently my ideal life cannot begin until it's scheduled in the perfect organizer between picking up the dry cleaning and working the late shift at the Library). Most likely not, but at least you can learn about a product that might help you"all together!"
There are other products in this line, namely, the Expense Tracker. I won't be buying this because A.) I don't need the "complete set" to be happy, B.) Sheesh, I haven't even used the pretty reciept organizer I bought in the New Year. And C.) I have no desire just yet to see how much money I am wasting on stuff and nonsense, particularly organizing crap.
But that's another post, perhaps for Thoughts on Thursday.
Have a good night!
Cons:
- It's not portable for most folks unless they walk around with a briefcase or a backpack.
- The paper is slick, and feels a little weird to write on.
- There's an "All Me" Section and an "All Them" Section, but not an "All Us" Section (I just wrote it in)
- Writing can be a little awkward, but it's easily remedied, detailed in the pros below (Because I am positive and like to end on a happy note)
- There's lots of leeway for customization (if you don't like it, design and print up your own pages!
- Just found this out: there are free templates for additional organizational helpers listed on Mead's Website, which you can download for free
- It's a pretty teal color
- It's easily expandable (kind of like a chintzy three-ring binder)
The family planner has been in use 12 hours, so this is just an initial review. Perhaps in a month or two I will revisit it, to see if it has truly solved all my issues, or if it has been exiled to a pile of papers, in which all the other life-changing planners reside.
Will this be the answer to my organizational woes? Will this help me to achieve the life that I've always wanted? (Because apparently my ideal life cannot begin until it's scheduled in the perfect organizer between picking up the dry cleaning and working the late shift at the Library). Most likely not, but at least you can learn about a product that might help you"all together!"
But that's another post, perhaps for Thoughts on Thursday.
Have a good night!
Monday, June 7, 2010
Theming it Up
One thing I am trying to decide on is how to theme and format my blog's content. A lot of the fabulous blogs I am currently reading have "day of the week" recurrent themes, and that very much appeals to my love of order. Of course, given my excessive self-absorption, I will probably post more than once a day, but it would be nice to have a theme that I HAVE to stick with. Accountability, and all that. So, here's what I am thinking at present...please provide input.
Making on Monday (in which I focus on things that I am making, have made, or wish to make)(Nice and broad and noncommital, huh?)
Together on Tuesday (in which every Tuesday I try to have a "perfectly together" day, or else ruminate on ways in which I can get my life more together
Working on Wednesday (in which I ruminate on my workplace, profession, or else professional aspirations)(after all, that's the other part to my duality of career girl/homemaker)
Thinking on Thursday-(In which I wax pseudo-philosophical, nostaligic, or brainstormy)
Five on Friday-(In which I feature the Top 5 of something on some random subject)
? on Saturday-(Help me out here. I'm going for alliteration, but am not sure what to go for in terms of Saturday's subject content. What would you like to read more about?)
Sybarite on Sunday-(In which I take a moment and extrapolate on something lovely and indulgey)
So. What do you think? What's your input?
Making on Monday (in which I focus on things that I am making, have made, or wish to make)(Nice and broad and noncommital, huh?)
Together on Tuesday (in which every Tuesday I try to have a "perfectly together" day, or else ruminate on ways in which I can get my life more together
Working on Wednesday (in which I ruminate on my workplace, profession, or else professional aspirations)(after all, that's the other part to my duality of career girl/homemaker)
Thinking on Thursday-(In which I wax pseudo-philosophical, nostaligic, or brainstormy)
Five on Friday-(In which I feature the Top 5 of something on some random subject)
? on Saturday-(Help me out here. I'm going for alliteration, but am not sure what to go for in terms of Saturday's subject content. What would you like to read more about?)
Sybarite on Sunday-(In which I take a moment and extrapolate on something lovely and indulgey)
So. What do you think? What's your input?
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Farewell, My Lovely
I first saw her almost eleven years ago, in the late summer of 1999. She was pretty much just an itty bitty kitten then, and I didn't spend too much time pondering what kind of personality she would develop. She was just a cute ball of fluff at that point.My eldest sister, Thing One, acquired this precious little purrball through an acquaintance of her roommate's. She named the purrball Inky-dinky-doo, or Enkidu, or something...but both names were soon banished for the more reasonable handle of Inkers.
If ever a pet and her owner developed the same personality, it was my sister and Inkers. Both were dainty, mischevious, persnickety little misses. Both liked to be left alone, but were deeply affectionate to the people who they knew and loved.
In 2002, Thing One had to live with our mother, the Original Crazy Cat Lady™ and her numerous feline companions. Inkers didn't thrive well in this environment (I don't think Thing One did, either). I had just acquired my very own apartment (complete with live-in-boyfriend John the Saint), so took in Inkers as well as one other kitty, a little orange guy named Trotsky. Thing One brought them to us one Saturday in September of 2002. Both Inkers and Trotsky had yowled all the way from Daytona to Tampa, and quickly slunk out of the carriers and contorted their little feline bodies into very flat, oozy positions (think Choo-Choo Bear) and scooched under the futon.
Inkers came out soon enough, eager for exploration, and Trotsky followed soon after. (Trotsky quickly managed to venture too close to a lit candle and so scorched his whiskers, causing them to curl in a delightfully French dandy fashion). Inkers approached the couch where Thing One and I sat, settled back on her haunches, looked up at us, and meowed frantically.
"She does that a lot," Thing One said informed me. "She's trying to tell us that someone needs saving." To Inkers, she merely said, "Where's Timmy, Inkers? Is he stuck down a well? Take us to Timmy!"
John the Saint was unimpressed with Inkers' neurotic, prissy, sometimes fickle ways, but I simply loved her for them. Every night, she would gently paw her way across the bed and settle on me. If I slept on my back, she would sleep on my chest or stomach or, only very occasionally, between my legs. (Shush, you.) If I slept on my side, she would sleep on the dip of my body, between my ribcage and my hipbone. If I slept on my stomach, she would sleep on my butt or the small of my back. She was constant.
My life in Tampa came to an end a little more than a year later. By the end of 2003, I was graduating and moving back to the grandparents' home in Daytona, where I would bide my time for 8 months before moving to Indiana. John and I had broken up, amiably and sadly, and were now in the process of breaking up our home. It was time for Inkers to be returned to her real mother, Thing One. And so we packed her into the carrier, and she yowled her way from Tampa to Daytona. All of the changes made me yowl a little, too.
A few months later, Inkers yowled her way from Daytona all the way up to New Jersey. There she and Thing One settled for what everyone wanted to be happily ever after. Thing One worked hard in New Jersey to support Inkers in the lifestyle to which she had become accustomed. For years Inkers kept Thing One company, cooing and meowing and purring and occasionally shedding on the pile of clean, warm, folded laundry Thing One set out for her each Laundry Day.
This year, Inkers turned 11. To me--to all the people in our family, who are used to cats living a long, long time--that was young. But Inkers' body had other ideas, and Thing One had to let Inkers leave this plane of existence last week. I found out during the honeymoon and proceeded to cry my way through a good portion of the evening. Little Inkers was my cat for a little over a year, and so Thing One and I have been sharing our grief. Thing One feels the loss more greatly, naturally, but nonetheless, we both get choked up still when our persnickety little Miss Inkers comes up in conversation.
She's still around, though. Thing One still feels her, gently pussy-footing her way over her blanketed body at night.
I hope Inkers swings by to pay me a visit, too. Until then, all I can say is, we miss her. And we were so lucky to have her.
Please, go and hug your cat or dog or emu or hamster or whatever you have. And if you don't have a pet...please go out and get one. They make life so much more beautiful, even in death.
There's Crazy. There's Neurotic. And Then There's Just Plain Dumb.
And I may, in fact, be all three.
Here's the thing: I am a clutterbug. I am an accumulator. I am an acquirer. I am not a minimalist. I own dozens of books I've never read. I own candles and incense that I don't burn. (In my defense, I usually just forget about them). When I latch on to a new hobby, I purchase all the requisite supplies (or at least all the supplies that I think are requisite), try my hand, and then in a week or two or three get diverted to some other hobby. Or, alternatively, I want to dabble in cooking but think I need all sorts of utensils and so I get them, and then, for some strange reason, the food never gets cooked.
What it boils down to, I suspect, that while my desires and intentions are good, I am afraid of trying, afraid of failing, and I am afraid of sucking at it. And so I acquire the items because in theory that's part of the whole project, and let's face it, I do NOT fail at acquisition. It's like I acquire and acquire and acquire to actually delay the process of creating and crafting.
And the result is that I have a half-finished project and a ton of crap.
This sickness--because sometimes I think that it is--has another facet. I try to organize as a way to magically make all of these projects and ideas come to fruition. "I could get all my bills and correspondence together if I have this nifty new filing cabinet which has labels slightly different from the three other filing cabinets I own." "If I got this family organizer, Himself and I could always keep track of our work and social schedules and impending chores and errands, because, let's face it, the two planners and two calendars that I already have don't quite cut it." "If I can just get organized, everything will fall into place." (My middle sister does the same thing. I'd say it's a family trait, but our eldest sister somehow managed to dodge this particular strain of neuroses).
And the really pathetic thing to all of this (as if it weren't lame enough already) is that I KNOW THINGS WON'T CHANGE with that handy-dandy, ultra-sleek new organizing ____________. I know this. It's common sense--when getting things together, the secret is not getting new/more/better organizational objects, but rather throwing shit out. Downsizing, minimizing, reducing, reusing, call it whatever you want. The current trend in organization is is about buying less, having less, using less. Simplify, simplify, simplify.
But where's the fun in that?
This is not a novel concept. I know all of this, but still I do it. I reminded myself of it the other day when I purchased a drawer organizer, two storage bins, and a scrapbook paper file. I will remind myself of that later today when I go back to Target and get another scrapbook paper file and a little table for my altar and maybe another one or two of those storage bins. I will remind myself of it as I continue on to Office Depot to get the stadium file organizer I realized I just had to have. I know all of this, but still I do it. But I sure as heck don't feel great about it.
In fact--spur of the moment--I am committing to you, dear readers (okay, reader) that I am nixing the spiffy new file. At least for now. I'm going to go into that danged Crap Room and find something that I already have to organize the paperwork I shouldn't have anyway.
But I'm still going to Target.
Here's the thing: I am a clutterbug. I am an accumulator. I am an acquirer. I am not a minimalist. I own dozens of books I've never read. I own candles and incense that I don't burn. (In my defense, I usually just forget about them). When I latch on to a new hobby, I purchase all the requisite supplies (or at least all the supplies that I think are requisite), try my hand, and then in a week or two or three get diverted to some other hobby. Or, alternatively, I want to dabble in cooking but think I need all sorts of utensils and so I get them, and then, for some strange reason, the food never gets cooked.
What it boils down to, I suspect, that while my desires and intentions are good, I am afraid of trying, afraid of failing, and I am afraid of sucking at it. And so I acquire the items because in theory that's part of the whole project, and let's face it, I do NOT fail at acquisition. It's like I acquire and acquire and acquire to actually delay the process of creating and crafting.
And the result is that I have a half-finished project and a ton of crap.
This sickness--because sometimes I think that it is--has another facet. I try to organize as a way to magically make all of these projects and ideas come to fruition. "I could get all my bills and correspondence together if I have this nifty new filing cabinet which has labels slightly different from the three other filing cabinets I own." "If I got this family organizer, Himself and I could always keep track of our work and social schedules and impending chores and errands, because, let's face it, the two planners and two calendars that I already have don't quite cut it." "If I can just get organized, everything will fall into place." (My middle sister does the same thing. I'd say it's a family trait, but our eldest sister somehow managed to dodge this particular strain of neuroses).
And the really pathetic thing to all of this (as if it weren't lame enough already) is that I KNOW THINGS WON'T CHANGE with that handy-dandy, ultra-sleek new organizing ____________. I know this. It's common sense--when getting things together, the secret is not getting new/more/better organizational objects, but rather throwing shit out. Downsizing, minimizing, reducing, reusing, call it whatever you want. The current trend in organization is is about buying less, having less, using less. Simplify, simplify, simplify.
But where's the fun in that?
This is not a novel concept. I know all of this, but still I do it. I reminded myself of it the other day when I purchased a drawer organizer, two storage bins, and a scrapbook paper file. I will remind myself of that later today when I go back to Target and get another scrapbook paper file and a little table for my altar and maybe another one or two of those storage bins. I will remind myself of it as I continue on to Office Depot to get the stadium file organizer I realized I just had to have. I know all of this, but still I do it. But I sure as heck don't feel great about it.
In fact--spur of the moment--I am committing to you, dear readers (okay, reader) that I am nixing the spiffy new file. At least for now. I'm going to go into that danged Crap Room and find something that I already have to organize the paperwork I shouldn't have anyway.
But I'm still going to Target.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
They say that God is in the details...
Today's Question: What is the "netiquette" for how often one might post in their blog per day?
Today's Wish (Intangible): Lots and lots of and lots of rain.
Today's Wish (Tangible): Blue, purple, and green Chinese star lanterns for my studio
Today's Random Thought: "Studio" sounds so...professional and "take me seriously, plz, I'm an artist", and it's SO misleading for me to call it the studio. And yet I persist.
Today's Featured Blog Post: Over at Single Infertile Female, the author (who is trying to come to catch a very narrow window of opportunity for impregnation) now also has to come to terms with the disapprobation of other single mothers. This is one tough chick, and you can check her out here. Please add her to your positive thoughts.
Today's Joys: Finding TONS more blogs, talking on the phone with my sister
Today's Surprise: Discovering the succulent I just purchased decided, unexpectedly, to bloom:
Today's Awsome Find: Cute fuschia-colored calculator for $1 at Wal-Mart
Today's Fail: ...Shopping at Wal-Mart
Today's Epic Fail: Stepping on one of the kitties' jingle balls, right in front of Austen. He was traumatized.
Today's Triumph: Making a TON of headway into the current (and futile) organizational project
Today's Knowledge Gained: "Wreck this Journal"--what a fun and interesting concept! I am sorely tempted...
Today's Creative Idea/Endeavor: Doing the "Wreck this Journal"
Today's Image:
"Evening Fields", by Flikr User Wipeoutdave, can be found here.
Today's Wish (Intangible): Lots and lots of and lots of rain.
Today's Wish (Tangible): Blue, purple, and green Chinese star lanterns for my studio
Today's Random Thought: "Studio" sounds so...professional and "take me seriously, plz, I'm an artist", and it's SO misleading for me to call it the studio. And yet I persist.
Today's Featured Blog Post: Over at Single Infertile Female, the author (who is trying to come to catch a very narrow window of opportunity for impregnation) now also has to come to terms with the disapprobation of other single mothers. This is one tough chick, and you can check her out here. Please add her to your positive thoughts.
Today's Joys: Finding TONS more blogs, talking on the phone with my sister
Today's Surprise: Discovering the succulent I just purchased decided, unexpectedly, to bloom:
Today's Awsome Find: Cute fuschia-colored calculator for $1 at Wal-Mart
Today's Fail: ...Shopping at Wal-Mart
Today's Epic Fail: Stepping on one of the kitties' jingle balls, right in front of Austen. He was traumatized.
Today's Triumph: Making a TON of headway into the current (and futile) organizational project
Today's Knowledge Gained: "Wreck this Journal"--what a fun and interesting concept! I am sorely tempted...
Today's Creative Idea/Endeavor: Doing the "Wreck this Journal"
Today's Image:
"Evening Fields", by Flikr User Wipeoutdave, can be found here.I think, other than the vivid primary colors, the thing that I love most about this picture
are the potentially-stormy clouds that are hovering in the distance, promising the possibility
of a delicious, rainy deluge in the British countryside. Hmmm, seen in this light, I got
my intangible wish!
are the potentially-stormy clouds that are hovering in the distance, promising the possibility
of a delicious, rainy deluge in the British countryside. Hmmm, seen in this light, I got
my intangible wish!
Friday, June 4, 2010
Top 5 Friday
5 Things I Will Do Before the Honeymoon Vacation Ends:
1. Try to turn the Craft Studio (Himself calls it the "Crap Room") into an organized, visually appealing space
2. Call Deshka, Kristin, Sister, Eric, Mum, the grandparents, and LoPrete; write my Soldier
3. Order wedding prints
4. Make some yummy dessert with my Kitchenaid Mixer (thanks, step-mother-in-law)(dude, I have in-laws?!?!)
5. Plan a dinner menu for the week ahead.
And...the feel good-picture of the day, which totally captures my mood:
"& i'm on my way to believing..." by Kelseyela, found here.
1. Try to turn the Craft Studio (Himself calls it the "Crap Room") into an organized, visually appealing space
2. Call Deshka, Kristin, Sister, Eric, Mum, the grandparents, and LoPrete; write my Soldier
3. Order wedding prints
4. Make some yummy dessert with my Kitchenaid Mixer (thanks, step-mother-in-law)(dude, I have in-laws?!?!)
5. Plan a dinner menu for the week ahead.
And...the feel good-picture of the day, which totally captures my mood:
"& i'm on my way to believing..." by Kelseyela, found here.
There's No Place Like Home (Part 1)
I never was much of a summer girl.
In theory, summer is lovely, of course...cookouts and lazy days and all the rest. Growing up in Florida, however, where summer was 8 months of the year, kind of killed (okay, brutally slaughtered) any love I ever could have harbored for this wretched season. The most I liked about it was the violent thunderstorms which would cloud up the blazing sky, and the cacophony of talkative crickets, tree frogs, and cicadas which emerged after the storms passed.
My too-brief stint in Indiana revived my love of this season...it was much easier for me to love summer when it only lasted four months, maximum, and was followed by a beautiful and distinct autumn. And then, too, summers in Indiana had...summery things, like fireflies and lazy hazy evenings and, of course, those lovely summer storms.
But now, here in the desert, summer is worse than ever. Usually well over 100 degrees, with no relief from the advent of thunderstorms. Indeed, it wouldn't be the desert otherwise! I don't do well with the heat...at all...and will, from June until the end of September (at least) closet myself in a darkened house with the air set at a reasonable 79 degrees. Since the condo becomes my haven during these brutal months, I think it only sensible to make it as lovely, welcoming, orderly, and comfortable as possible, and in the days before I must return to work, I'm concentrating on making this happen. Himself pitched in, too, and here's the first set of pictures of our hard work:
Austen surveys the domain.
I also picked out and settled the little IU garden gnome peeking out from the corner, by the rock.
Entrance to the condo; pictures to come!
In theory, summer is lovely, of course...cookouts and lazy days and all the rest. Growing up in Florida, however, where summer was 8 months of the year, kind of killed (okay, brutally slaughtered) any love I ever could have harbored for this wretched season. The most I liked about it was the violent thunderstorms which would cloud up the blazing sky, and the cacophony of talkative crickets, tree frogs, and cicadas which emerged after the storms passed.
My too-brief stint in Indiana revived my love of this season...it was much easier for me to love summer when it only lasted four months, maximum, and was followed by a beautiful and distinct autumn. And then, too, summers in Indiana had...summery things, like fireflies and lazy hazy evenings and, of course, those lovely summer storms.
But now, here in the desert, summer is worse than ever. Usually well over 100 degrees, with no relief from the advent of thunderstorms. Indeed, it wouldn't be the desert otherwise! I don't do well with the heat...at all...and will, from June until the end of September (at least) closet myself in a darkened house with the air set at a reasonable 79 degrees. Since the condo becomes my haven during these brutal months, I think it only sensible to make it as lovely, welcoming, orderly, and comfortable as possible, and in the days before I must return to work, I'm concentrating on making this happen. Himself pitched in, too, and here's the first set of pictures of our hard work:
Austen surveys the domain.
Okay, so Himself was the one that did all this work. Outside, at noon. In triple digits.
But I helped pick out the plants and flowers!
But I helped pick out the plants and flowers!
I also picked out and settled the little IU garden gnome peeking out from the corner, by the rock. He's not too thrilled to be in the desert, either!
I also picked out this succulent...representative of my (relative) adaptation to the desert.
For now.
I also picked out this succulent...representative of my (relative) adaptation to the desert.For now.
Entrance to the condo; pictures to come!Thursday, June 3, 2010
Domesticity rocks
Lucky me, I have another 4.5 days before I return to the Library and work! But Himself is not so much with the luck, and has to return to the real world tomorrow. Still, we're making the last day of the joint honeymoon-time off, and are spending the day engrossed in domestic activities. He's outside in the courtyard, in the wicked desert heat, planting a metric f-ton of purdy flowers we picked up at Lowe's, and I am in the climate-controlled condo, doing laundry, unpacking our wedding goodies, cleaning, and--only occasionally--taking a break to succumb to my internets addiction.
I daresay I have the better end of the deal.
Wait, actually, no. Miss Magdalene's got the better end of the deal.
Lucky little wench.
I daresay I have the better end of the deal.
Wait, actually, no. Miss Magdalene's got the better end of the deal.
Lucky little wench.Tuesday, June 1, 2010
I think my real life began a long time ago
We're home.
But more importantly...
We're married.
There's much to say, about the trip, the wedding, my 30th birthday, all of the many ideas that are scampering about in my head, the adventures, the experiences...And to make things more emotionally complex, towards the end of the trip, I got unexpected and very sad news, from more than one quarter. Some of it can be mentioned here, some of it not, but none of it now. Now, the only thing that matters is that we are home, and I am so very, very happy to be back. Austen and Magdalene are fairly disturbed by our absence and then reappearance, and in typically neurotic feline fashion, have alternated between meowing, purring, and hissing at us, fighting with each other, and giving us little "presents" in inappropriate but nonetheless creative places.
I think we'll all need a few days to settle down.
But more importantly...
We're married.
There's much to say, about the trip, the wedding, my 30th birthday, all of the many ideas that are scampering about in my head, the adventures, the experiences...And to make things more emotionally complex, towards the end of the trip, I got unexpected and very sad news, from more than one quarter. Some of it can be mentioned here, some of it not, but none of it now. Now, the only thing that matters is that we are home, and I am so very, very happy to be back. Austen and Magdalene are fairly disturbed by our absence and then reappearance, and in typically neurotic feline fashion, have alternated between meowing, purring, and hissing at us, fighting with each other, and giving us little "presents" in inappropriate but nonetheless creative places.
I think we'll all need a few days to settle down.
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