Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea

I have been writing in a gratitude journal lately as a way to combat insomnia. Yesterday "electricity" was at the top of the list.

The power went out when I was in the shower. I had been working around the house all morning and was waiting to put myself together closer to my afternoon job interview. I wasn't sure my hair would air dry in time, but it did. It dried to a sad, lifeless state of blah. Oh well.

I went to this interview because I am still kinda looking for something, maybe part-time and definitely nothing that would take away from the key hours of my business (evenings and weekends). I now have a job offer. As long as I want to work 35-45 hours a week, without benefits, sometimes 7 days a week, sometimes until 9pm, and for $6.75/hour.

I could probably make a few demands, arrange it so that it is not so bad, but there is one factor I can't say yes to: She really wants someone to, well, micro-manage. I don't know how else to put it. I operate best with a list, a time-frame and freedom to get it done.

So, I will say no in faith that there is something else out there.

You don't care a bit, you don't care a bit

I recently ran into a good friend's husband and had a strange conversation with him. He used the phrase "I didn't get married to..." (fill in the blank with some inconveniencing circumstance). I realized later how cringe-worthy this statement always is. And then I had the thought I often have when talking to some men: If I were married to you, you'd be in a body cast.

So far I have broken nothing of Punky's, with the exception of anything that came to this house from his bachelor year's that I deemed ugly. But those items came to a mysterious/tragic ending by some strange twist of fate. I know nothing of the circumstances behind the shattering of that hideous soap dispenser...

Are there really people out there who think marriage should be, at all times, convenient? Isn't marriage saying "I would rather have a messy, annoying, inconvenient life with you than have a messy, annoying, inconvenient life without you"?

I hope it was a moment of weakness for this man, a moment when too much thinking leaked from his brain to someone who won't put him in a body cast for it. I hope, I hope, I hope.

In heaven there is no beer

I had the unique opportunity to see my husbando a lot this weekend. Since school started up again, we have relied on late night (when he's half-asleep and grumpy) and early morning (when I'm half-asleep and grumpy) communications. It works for the most part, even if the dog does get a second breakfast, which he doesn't mind a bit.

Last night I dropped a few things to go to a hockey game with Punky. I love the smell of the rink, which I think has something to do with the metal-ice combination. It's a strange game. You can pretty much do any slightly inhumane thing you would like to do to whomever has the puck, but only when they have the puck. There's plenty of drama, blood, sweat and tears. And when it is all over, they shower, dress up in suits and go out for dinner. Picture hockey hair with a nice suit and try to not think about cavemen- I dare you.

The student section is, maybe, my favorite part. They are the drunk uncle that everyone is embarrassed by, but tells stories about. And, someday, I'll be the mom who pretends to not understand the group of crazy people across the rink to the curious child next to me, but until then I will delight in the insanity.

Oh, about that old professor I chatted with. After carefully explaining to me that I was not smart enough to work for him, he told me to be more positive. I wanted to carefully explain to him that his marketing problems were grounded in the fact that his people skills were equivalent to those of patio furniture.

When I grow up will I be pretty?

As mentioned in my post last night, I was talking to a friend (we'll call her G) from college who lives in Colorado. When I moved out there, I let her pick my apartment. It occurs to me just now that that was a huge thing for me to let go of. V. interesting....

The joke around my house was that us girls in our younger years replied to the question "What are you going to be when you grow up?" with "I'm going to college". G knew she was going to get a PhD in elementary school. Now we both have two degrees in chemistry and are doing other things.

I spent several hours this morning at my grad alma mater, trying to figure out if there is a place for me in this science-slow town. It reaffirmed the idea that, even if there was a place, I wasn't all that interested. G recently brought her one year old son and seven month pregnant self to her advisor's office for the same reason: To feel like she had a place.

How do you fix a world where two brilliant women don't feel they are contributing? Every job I interviewed for after grad school would probably have laid me off by now. It all makes me rage with anger until I remember the peace that comes from not listening to those who would take you down.

Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun

You can tell when things are getting crazy for me when I don't write for quite a while and then twice in one day. But I had a thought...

I have a theory that grocery stores are the best way to find singles. I usually shop during the day, but needed milk so I went this evening. Cub was crawling with singles, including my friend's slightly off ex-bf. There were some of the hip-hop crowd hanging out. I collected phone numbers for the benefit of my single female friends- hehehe. There was a group of college guys, but they had an aura around them. Munchie run, I would guess.

However sloppy/high the guys seemed, the women were the opposite. They looked made up, bringing their A games. Now that's inequality for you.

Side note: While chatting on the phone with my dear friend from Colorado, I saw a skunk trot down the street. Talk about wasted cuteness...

Baby you can drive my car

My car works again. I'm not sure I can adequately explain how much I love my car. It's not a materialistic thing. While it's a nice car, I don't see it as a status symbol for anything. It's just the fact that it's mine that makes me love it so.

I own my car. I had to stay in Colorado working for a maniac for exactly seven months to pay it off, so that is exactly what I did. (I calculated how long I would have to stay to pay off my student loans, but that was too depressing to consider) So that one little space is all mine.

I know when someone else has been driving it, especially the men in my life (Punky and my dad). Both of them obsessively/compulsively close the lids on my cup holders. Hello? I leave the house at all times loaded down with stuff and the first thing I do is unload the beverage. Grrr...

I love to sing in my car. And dance a little, too. I suppose I have attracted more than a few looks, but I don't know because I don't pay attention. But I understand the people who pick their noses, change clothes, kiss at stoplights, and do other not-usually-done-in-public things. It is the space we own where we are free.

So tell me, do you love your car?

I need a hero

I'm having issues saying the word "tomorrow" lately. I get a little hung up on the mor and start sounding like my relatives in Pittsburgh with a hint of Jersey. Those would be the two places where I have been asked if why I talk funny. Well, in Jersey I was asked why I tawk funny. Like there's a polite response to that.

For some people, dyslexia is a debilitating problem. For me, with a mild/undiagnosed case, it's a strange twitch. When I'm tired, I will write the second letter of a word, then the first, then the rest of the word. Clearly I have figured out ways to work around this, without ever perfecting sentence construction..

In other news, my car is back to not working. I took Punky's truck to run errands and haul large objects and he took my car, which wouldn't start as he was going to go from work to school. Poor guy. The amusing part is that he called my dad to come get him before he called me to say it wasn't starting. Too, too funny.

Keep a nightlight on inside the birdhouse in your soul

When five lightbulbs burn out simultaneously in your house, does it mean something? Two needed new bulbs, two needed to be switched onto a different setting (so much for calling myself mechanically inclined) and one is stuck. Stuck stuck.

Lightbulbs are the symbol of, well, first of all light. Then bright ideas. So maybe I need two parts new bright ideas, two parts of ideas in a new setting and one part getting unstuck with my bright ideas.

Maybe the bulbs represent people in my life. Two need total replacing, two need a new setting in my life and one needs to be broken and taken away with a pair of pliers.

Oh, sure, you're sitting there, thinking I'm insane. I like the idea of symbolism. I like looking for the burning bush, feeling like my life is sad and then I talk to someone, whether I just met him/her or have known him/her forever and there is the yes.

The bulbs are saying "Yes! Let's get some light in here!"

I want to be a hunter again

Today we find our heroine risking the dangers of the wild know as the mall on Saturday in search of the mythological being, the clearance shoe. This elusive being was sighted just days ago by a fellow craver of good deals. To find a shoe that is perfect in size, shape, color, and price is the heroine's ultimate goal, but so often not to be found. Full are her closets of shoes that pinch, that clash, that belong to other decades, that look more like weapons of acute destruction.

Our heroine stalks the displays of shoes, smooth like a tiger, quiet as a cougar. She is nearly felled by a pair of beautiful, heeled winter dress boots that are just-in, shiny and, of course, full price. But she slinks on, dodging other ferocious clearance stalkers and more than a few dazed, drowsy shoppers caught in the shopping euphoria.

Though she makes several circles around the clearance aisles, the shoes are not to be seen. Not today.

She slinks home empty-handed to do battle with the evil shoe-predator Nuschler yet another day.

Thus is the life of our heroine.

Please be kind if I'm a mess

It's a good day when you have two coffee dates and a massage swap. I'm well caffeinated and less tense. If someone tried to have a conversation with me now there would be problems, as I can no longer hold a train of thought, but it was a great day.

My first date suggested I blog about the movie "I know what you did last summer". While this is a fabulous idea, I can't as I have never seen it. I don't watch horror/scary movies. My dear friend ML dragged my kicking/screaming butt to "What Lies Beneath" many moons ago and it took two months for me to look in a mirror again.

I am a movie addict. I love comedy that's not trying too hard, drama that's not over the top, action that has purpose and musicals because they are musicals.

I caught a few bits of an independent movie the other day and was laughing hysterically. This woman was tired of dating men who were hiding something or incapable of conversation. On her first blind date, the man showed up and she was prepared with some questions. Was he married (no), did he have children he was hiding (no), did he have a sense of humor (he tried to show it), could he listen (what? j/k), was he okay with complicated women (yes). She sighed with relief and exited her house. He asked if he could ask a question (sure). Have you accepted Jesus Christ... (while holding a pamphlet).

I nearly soiled myself I was laughing so hard. Just because that 99% is perfect, sometimes that 1% imperfect is too much.

Although, often we love that 1% imperfection best.

And Kimmy? Start a blog. It's the cheapest therapy in town next to dear friends...

C'mon Get Happy.

It's a bad sign when someone asks you why you are in a good mood. For one, it suggests that you aren't usually in a good mood. For another, it suggests that being in a good mood is not the social norm.

I'm making little changes for happiness. I took the aging, broken charm off my cell and will replace it with something different. I am looking at the wall above my desk and will be taking stuff down. It is covered in goal posters, quotes, ribbons, and pictures.

There's a picture of me when I was four or five at the zoo. The intense wild child. There's a picture of my cousin on her hot wheels looking fierce. Another is my friend's son wearing the hat I knitted for him. Endlessly cute. Then there's the quote that got me through chemistry "Relax, good woman, and THINK".

It all feels very refreshing. Except for the continued raking. Which is exhausting. But still feels like accomplishment.

I feel good. I knew that I would.

I am working on the word "no". Being a direct product of my father, this is not my strong suit. I'm a go-to, sure can do kind of chic. But it is time for more no. I need room in my life for other yes.

In the grocery store parking lot, a suspicious-looking couple asked me for money after a long story about a flat tire. They approached me at my car while it was dark. Um, no. I thought about calling the police, but let it go.

Tonight I flat out refused to do something that then resulted in a change that I was hoping for. To be quite honest, I told a friend that I would precipitate this change and she didn't believe I could make it happen. Triumph!

For several months now I have felt wishy-washy. With "no" as a possible choice, I'm much more decisive. Feels good.

Blame it on the rain

With the understanding that you don't have to change everything to change everything, I have been praying for a few months for a few little things to change. A little closure here, a new friend in my same situation there. Slowly these prayers are shaping into reality. Instead of saying my world has been turned upside-down, I am thinking more rightside-up. But there's always more tweaks to pray for...

Yesterday was carpe diem day. After the usual Sunday afternoon nap, Punky and I took the Nusch for a walk together. Though the trees are now bare, it was still lovely. When we got home, Nuschler got a bath. He's been stinky and dirty for a long time. Now he's all fluffy and girly smelling. Oh the horror.

Then we raked and mowed at break-neck speed to as to beat the sundown. I was so physically exhausted, cold and in pain, but very satisfied. I have more raking to do this week, but it's raining today. Time to make bread.

It's a long way down to the place where we started from

I would like to state for the record that my last post's title was not a suggestion or a prophecy. Just something going through my head.

While walking the Nusch today, I realized that I tend to blog about this ritual a lot and how it is a good gauge for how I am feeling and how Nuschler is feeling. When a small dog wants attention, you pick the dog up and put him in your lap. Case closed. When a hundred pounds of fur wants attention, it's essencially a trade embargo. I can't make it to the kitchen for a cup of coffee without the furry blockade of need.

Okay, let's go for a walk.

Just Tuesday, I talked about the walk in the woods. Thursday was sleeting. Not walking weather. Today I gave in to the whining and the pitiful looks. But what to wear?

Since there is snow on the ground, that meant boots. I only have my rad spy boots, so no choice but to look like winter. Pants? Lined athletic. Jacket? Seemed like either the shell or the liner would be too light so I wore both. It was very windy, which would mean tears and the inability to see, so I went with my usual ski goggles. Hat. Balaclava. Thick winter gloves. Every inch covered.

The sad part? I wasn't over-heated, like I should have been in mid-October with my get-up. Nope, I was perfectly warm if not slightly chilled in some spots.

Sigh.

It's gonna be hot and cold

I spent the weekend at Cragun's resort (gorgeous this time of year!), then rushed back to Duluth to celebrate my mom's birthday, then have been still rushing around ever since.

Today the plan is to breathe a little.

Since they were talking about snow yesterday, I decided to take Nuschler into the woods for one last -maybe- walk before snow. Early into our walk, we saw a deer, which Nusch tried to chase. As much as I would like to think that most hunters can tell the difference between a small deer and a large golden retriever, I don't need to be the crazy woman screaming for her dog in the woods. He came back to me quickly.

As we reached the overlook, I realized how bare the trees had gotten just over the weekend. It was still beautiful, but the chill reminded me that fall was coming to an end soon. As we walked back down the trail, we encountered three more deer. They were watching Nuschler, then me. Nuschler, with his two total brain cells excitedly thinking about sitting in the stream nearby, didn't see them. I made him come back to me while the deer ran away. Pretty darn cool.

On the other hand, one large cracking sound deep in the woods and all I can think of is the potential headline "Area woman mauled by bear, eaten by dog".

I will remember you

I just watched the last-last five minutes of Sex & the City. Every time I see those last five minutes, I feel sad, teary, optimistic and moved. It is my favorite series finale that I can remember.

I got lost in the woods today. I find it funny when people get lost in the woods because it really didn't make sense to me until today. I was looking for leaves to put in a phone book and hand over to my mom (I should wrap it up, slap a bow on it and mark "buy mom bday gift" off my to do), who plans to make lovely items with fall leaves.

I found the most beautiful tree with reds, oranges and yellows, but it was off the trail about ten feet. So I carefully made my way to the tree and discovered the leaves were all eaten and blotchy (where's a tree doctor when you need one?). Nuschler, happy to run madly off the trail all the time since I am always there to get him back, followed me and found something nasty to poke at. To divert him, I ran away from him. Deeper into the woods, thinking I was going towards the trail.

In the end, the tree helped me find the trail.

This is how life works. We find something new/shiny that is off our track. Up close it is a disaster/gift. We think we can find the way back/forward, but are distracted by something, usually something nasty.

Eventually you find your way home. And then check for ticks.

All the promises we make from the cradle to the grave

I talked to a dear, old friend last night (we met when we were five). We talked about another dear, old friend (we met when we were three) who is going through yucky life stuff. I used the phrase "irretrievable action" during the conversation. I couldn't stop thinking about it all night. What are the things we say or do that we cannot take back, that we can barely be forgiven for?

I have gotten into a few conversations lately that I would like to take back. I find the most difficult part of apologizing is figuring out what to apologize for. Should you apologize for your opinions or just how you go about saying them? I'm told to stop letting people push my buttons, but then I am also supposed to be sensitive to other people's feelings (their buttons). Where should I draw the line?

I had another conversation with someone about moving on after a mistake. While we live in a society where everybody's business is everybody's business, we forget how to move on. How do we find grace and compassion for ourselves and each other?

I also need your help. My mom's birthday is on Sunday and I have no brilliant ideas on what to get her. Ideas?