New year and new day

You'd think I would learn.

After all of the new planners, new purses, new notebooks, new organizers, new lists, new plans, new projects, new "leaves", you think I would learn, a leopard doesn't change its spots...

Does it?

A very wise friend of mine once said, "We reinvent ourselves every day." I like the optimism in that; I like the possibilities that are inherent in that statement. To that end, one should embrace not "New Years resolutions" but "New Day Resolutions."

But still, New Year's IS all about the hope, the changes, the possibilities. So while I'm not going to say "I resolve to do these things", I am going to say "This is what I'd like to make happen in the year ahead." And then maybe, day by day, I will reinvent myself.

(Although, I have to say, I do rather like myself and my life. I'd like to think I don't suck too much.)

And so, let's crack open a bottle of champagne and contemplate our navels, our lives, our new days, our new years!
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Health and Beauty:

• "Get skinnier than Jim" (in other words, my eldest sister and I have to see our biological father this summer. The man is a scrawny--and boringly healthy-- little...fellow...and both of us weigh more than he does. He already views himself as superior; we don't wish to give him any more ammo.)
• Establish a solid, consistent beauty routine.
• Vitamins, medications, and water. 'Nuff said.
• Look into getting serious work done on my sinuses. It might be time for surgery.

Creativity

• Do the Artist's Way, goddammit
• Blog at least three times a week
• Finish "Home Front"
• Write a piece on Indiana
• Finish the Indiana and wedding scrapbooks
• Take an acrylics class
  

Finances

• Stick to the budget
  
• Pay off that (thankfully wee) bit of credit card debt
• Have enough money set aside to pay off the car in March 2o12
• Do the "envelope system" for indulgent purchases
  

Family and Friends

• Say less, more
• Cultivate friendship with Missi
• Call grandparents at least twice a week
• Solidify Indiana relationships
• Be mindful of my position as a wife to Himself (basically, he's becoming much more of a public figure, which means I am along for the ride. And it's a very small town.)
  
• Be more supportive and patient with Himself

Professional

• Again, say less, more
• Keep the desk nice and tidy
• Cultivate more patience and tact
• Seize moments of leadership as they arise

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Well, I'm about to be on to my second glass of champagne e. And I lift it up to all of us--may 2011 be the year of re-invention!

Thankful Thursdays, Part 2

There are some moments that you just want to be seared onto your brain, to be stowed away, safely, in your memory, untouched by time or forgetting. Tonight offered me one of those moments.

Through my entire worklife, I have been blessed with a number of jobs that I enjoyed, that provided me with a swarm of caring colleagues, tolerant supervisors, and helpful mentors. Time and time again, I've landed on my feet and gone to work happy, looking forward to the day. My current job has followed the same pattern. I jokingly call one of my bosses "mom" from time to time, the guy that sits across from my cubicle is my "little brother" (he's a week younger than me), and my team of reference librarians (all of whom are at least 30 years older than me) I view as a host of amused, kind aunts and uncles. They've nurtured me, taught me, encouraged me, held me in check, I daresay from time to time protected me. We're a team.

Once a month, we have a meeting at work, and go out for dinner afterward. Tonight, we went to a local Mexican restaurant, where we knocked back some margaritas, swapped gossip about libraries in the region, ate, and listened to a rather loud mariachi band. The music and singing were a little annoying at first (especially when you're trying to hear your former boss tell your current boss who just got a major position elsewhere in the county), but once the margaritas cast their spell, the music brought in its own magic.

At one point, the band moved over to us and began leading a bawdy song with a chorus that
went :

Guacamole!
Guacamole!
We were making guac-a-mole all night long!

I looked around at my "mom" and my aunties, all of them smiling, singing, warm in the low light of the restaurant, their faces so beloved and familiar to me, and I thought my heart would break of happiness. The moment was priceless, beautiful--fleeting.

But it's imprinted here, and in my brain, and it will be one that I shall not let go.

Thankful Thursdays

This Thursday, I am tickled pink by:

1. Working on Saturdays, so that I can have the following Friday off...which means that Thursday is my end of the week. Cheers for long weekends!

2. A husband who doesn't mind my sinus-induced, horrifically nasty morning breath. Seriously, folks, it's foul. I taste it. My cat Maggie waddles up to me and tries to stick her head in my mouth. And Himself simply chuckles and compares it to either a dead starfish or the Salton Sea. (Go to the Salton Sea and you'll know what I mean.)

3. Friends. That's right, you read it correctly. You know, that 10-season show that defined my generation, symbolized the hope and prosperity of the 1990s, and brought us lots of cheesy pop culture goodness. I LOVE that show. Four years ago, back when I first moved to California, I was a very green librarian and constantly questioning the wisdom of moving and feeling frustrated by my job and terribly homesick. I'd go to my boyfriend the Cyborg's house, and obtuse though he was about my feelings and needs (he was called The Cyborg for a reason) he knew enough to plunk me down in front of the television, pour me a glass of wine, pop in Friends, and two hours later I'd be as right as rain. These days, I just watch it in front of the exercise bike as I am huffing and puffing away, but it still helps get the job done!

4. Not giving a toss that most people find my love for Friends to be incredibly bourgeois.

5. Finally...Adirondack Alcohol inks. I haven't figured out what else to do with them, but I tell you what, couple 'em up with Martha Stewart glitter and you can craft some really freaking lovely ornaments!

The Words that Go Unsaid

Well, I feel like a tool. I recently just fell for the oldest blogging trick in the book.

I still read blogs avidly--the blogs of people I know, and homemaking and crafting and scrapbooking blogs, mostly. And I read all about these ladies' lives, and I think "My god, how lucky they are! How happy they are! Look at their beautifully cooked meals/cute kids/orderly homes/lovely craft projects!"

You see where this is going. Hello, inferiority complex!

I think it gets worse when it's someone I know. For example, a friend of mine from the Indiana days is a newlywed, and an avid (and skilled) cook/blogger/crafter. She writes beautiful and uplifting things about her life, right down to her faith, and I simultaneously admire and envy her. AND she lives back East, where there are four seasons.

Purely by accident, I imed her today on google chat. And we got to talking and catching up--and that's when I realized I had fallen for it. I remarked on her blog, and how charmed her life seemed, and her response?

"Well I only write things that are happy."

D'oh! Of course! It's a blog! My sister, who has been blogging since 2001, has a cardinal rule: "Only post the good stuff." Funny that, I thought this was a trait unique to my sister. Apparently not! And if my sister and my friend only blog the good stuff, well, I bet the same is true for a lot of other ladies out there.

I suppose I could do that (I suppose I will do that). The ugly fact about it is, I have a tendency to focus on my blue devils and ignore the awesome stuff in my life--so nothing ever gets posted these days. I'm going to try to get back into the groove with blogging, even if it's only to talk about the awesome stuff in my life and focus on that and make all you readers (at this point, just my afore-mentioned friend, sister, and the omnipresent Indiana stalker) embrace your inner inferiority complex!

Ha. Maybe not so much. At least not intentionally.

But talking with my friend was immensely reassuring--she copped to the 9.5 million fights a week she and her husband have (they are still happy, incredibly so), and unintentionally reminded me that that is fairly normal. And that's the lesson of the day...

There's a lot that people don't tell you about being married.

And there's a lot that I still don't know about being married.

But I'm learning.

Not sure that that's what I'll be posting, but expect some good content in the near future!

Maybe I Should be Posting Here, Once a Season

The only thing I have to say in defense for my absence on the blogosphere...if I can't even keep a cactus alive in the DESERT (refer to Exhibit A below), how on earth am I supposed to keep this thing going?



















So, right around the first of October, a really remarkable thing happened.

The weather turned.

I know that's not big news to those of you who live in a place where there are four distinct seasons (as opposed to greater and lesser rings of Hell), but to us, this is actually amazing--the weather actually noticed what season it was and obliged!

What ensued was this: several days of high temperatures being in the high seventies, a gentle cool breeze, and...wait for it...rain.

Like, the wet stuff that falls from the skies. There was even thunder!

Of course, this freakish phenomenon passed soon enough; currently, on this 10th day of October, it's forecasted to hit a toasty 97 degrees. So there's no crisp, cool autumn days, no need for a fire on the hearth, no desire for mulled wine or toasted punkin seeds...and of course, no expectation of it. And even though our bout with autumn has passed, I have gotten into the mood. This is, after all, my favorite time of the year...even now, when I am currently being burnt into a crispy pile of dust. I still love this time of year, even now.

This has manifested itself in two different ways: I've tried to decorate a little for the autumn...

Yes, a few plastic punkins and fake leaves clear means AUTUMN in Chez Desert. (And no, that round orange thing on the couch is not a punkin. That's one of our kitties, Miss Magdalene.)

The other thing that has happened as a result of this brief season is that I am starting to think beyond fall and focus on my absolute very best most favorite holiday--Christmas! In addition to it being my very first married Christmas, my eldest sister will be visiting. So it's going to be a lovely holiday, and I'm already plotting away.

(Whether or not any of these plots or plans come to fruition is completely beside the point!)

So here's to punkins, and cooler weather, and surviving another Palm Springs summer, and to producing a Christmas that will go down in memory...in a good way!

A Lesson on Learning to Love My "Forever Life"

I am just wrapping up my fifth summer in California.

Well, wrapping up isn't quite the word for it, as it's about 11 days from the beginning of fall, and we're forecasted for the low-100s all next week. But hey! That's 'way down from the 116 degree + humidity temps we had at the end of August/beginning of this month. You learn to take what you can get and be happy with it.

But anyway, summer is, in theory, ending; the kids are back in school; the orange/red/yellow decorations are out in the stores; people on my blogroll are talking about crisp air and autumn projects and quite frankly, I want to punch them in the face. Really, really hard.

This is not a healthy response. I know this.

So...a few weeks back, I was thinking on this unhappy state of affairs. And then that night I went home and read Single Infertile Female' s blog, and she was talking about her "Forever Life" and how she was afraid that it was going to be defined by fear and loneliness and bitterness and disappointment. What stuck in my head was the term "forever life". I didn't realize why until the next day, at work, when it occurred to me that we all, eventually, commence our forever life.

And I had just commenced mine this summer (of all times!) I cast my lot in with Himself, committed myself to a life with him, for better or for worse. I'm so happy that I did. But. Himself loves the desert; he grew up here, he loves the mountain and the trails and the deadly black widows and velvet ants and rattlesnakes and the roadrunners and the bighorns. He loves it here.

And me, not so much. I dislike being so far from my family; I miss rain and seasons and cold weather; I miss old houses and barns and fields and the color green...well, you get my picture.

But this is my Forever Life. This is it. Himself and I both have great jobs, and coupled with the fact that he loves it so much, it's looking more and more like we won't be leaving here any time soon.

If ever.

It finally sunk in that day at work. In the course of a few hours, I grew up and faced facts: my circumstances won't be changing, so what do I do? Continue bitching and whining and making disparaging remarks about California? That would only strain and perhaps kill my marriage. Quietly resign myself to it and act all passive-aggressively like the long-suffering wife? Unlikely; the act would be too difficult to sustain. So, the third option: Adapt. Like it or lump it or make yourself love it--and do so genuinely. And until you get to that point, celebrate the great parts and learn to cope with graciousness.

I think we can guess which route that I am taking.

It's simple enough--I simply try, day to day, to find the funky, funny, quirky, delightful, gratifying things about living here. I throw myself more into my job than ever. I make a genuine effort to cultivate lasting friendships.

But just now, I learned another thing that I have to do.

A lot of unhappiness comes from comparing yourself and your circumstances to others; seeing what they have and being envious of them. Now we come back to where I want to commit aggravated Internets assault against innocent homemakers on my blog. No so much with the healthy, there.

Just prior to composing this post, I happened upon this:











A real estate listing re-blogged on Hooked on Houses. I am a total sucker for these types of houses, and so I followed the link...

Only to find out that this house is in the town from whence I originally spawned, Milford, Ohio.

It's selling for $189,000.

Of course, I began perusing the link, ogled over the compact little rooms, the hardwood floors, the pleasing reds and neutrals. And then I caught it--that little kernel of unhappiness, starting to swell and explode--and I knew what I had to do.

I closed the tab.

If part of graciously coping and eventually building a genuinely happy life out here depends on me turning away from pictures of My Ideal Life, then that's what needs to be done. Is it sticking my head into the sand?

Well, yes. But whatever works, right? And I live in the desert, so at least there's plenty of sand to go around!L

Sick Abed

I love and hate it when I am sick.

Hate it because physically, I am miserable, and emotionally, I feel so goshdarned guilty for not being at work, where I belong.

Love it because it's a damned near irreproachable reason to do nothing.

Yesterday, I felt just plain punk. Freezing cold, all day, and several times, I felt like I was going to pass out. Went home at the usual time, got eight hours of sleep, and woke up exhausted.

With a sore throat.

Yeah, nothing good can come of this. But I showered, dressed, took my sorry self into work, and made it all of one hour before I drove home to my bed, my cats, and my zicam.

So now I lie, here in bed, feeling very miserable and wondering what the heck is wrong with me. It's not the usual m.o. for my notorious head-colds-turned-sinus-infections-or-bronchitis-or-pneumonia. We'll have to see if I get better or worse.
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In other news, it's August.

Thank the frigging lord.

Don't get my wrong--here in the deserts of the Armpit Empire, July and August are the worst months. And sometimes, September can be nasty, too.

But it's August, and it means that we're on the downward slope. We're one month closer to my favorite time of the year. If I lived in a place where there were actual seasons, and a genuine rhythm to life, I would rejoice, weep with joy, and begin to listen with a tiny bit of sorrow as the summer dies away and gives in to the gentle death that autumn brings. If I lived in such a place, I would perhaps feel more connected with this life that seems to be speeding past without my full attention.

But then again, maybe I wouldn't.

Anyway, I don't live in a place where there are real seasons, and let's face it, most of my life has been this way. Familiarity might not be the most joyful option, but it is the most realistic...and at least it breeds a certain grim, passive will to get through it.

And since I don't live in a place with seasons, I simply have to smile as we get through the second half of the awful time of year, and thank god that we're one day closer to a little less misery. And mark the days until I can celebrate Fake Autumn and Imaginary Winter.

As Himself says, "we do have seasons: the leaves are on the trees, the leaves are off the trees."

Heh. But what he fails to mention is that here in the deserts of SoCal, we have very few trees, and even less that have the kind of leaves that change color.

But one day, in a couple of months, it's only going to get up to 85 degrees. And when the sun goes down, a breeze will come up and it will actually be a cool breeze, and everything, from us to the cats to the cactus, will be slightly revived and energized.

And if we're really lucky, this might happen before Halloween.

Thank god it's August.