Pondering the Obvious

Well Hello There!

2007-05-17T22:31:00.000-05:00

My new computer lets me log in. That doesn't, however, mean that I'm going to resume writing here. I kinda like the blemails that I have been sending, like that I know who is reading them, like that I know exactly who is not reading them.

If you would like to receive my blemails, which are stunning examples of intellect and modern-day philosphy if I do say so myself, leave a comment. We'll figure something out.

After all, we're all in this together.

Why don't you like me, why don't you like me, why don't you walk out the door?

2007-03-30T21:46:00.000-05:00

Alright. I have been trying to log into blogger for a week and a half without success. Here I am, over at Bec's house, saying no more! No more blogger!

So, I have decided to do a daily email. Or mostly daily email. This is really for the best, as I have lately felt like I'm giving too much information to whomever wants to read it. If you know my email already, simply email me that you would like to be on the list. If you don't know it, take a wild guess about my new gmail account. And, please, don't put anything telling in a comment. That's just annoying.

Song: This is a little ditty from Mika, whom I tried hard not to like, but now love. Love, love, love.

There's gotta be more to life than chasing down every temporary high to satisfy me

2007-03-20T10:27:00.000-05:00

Bec recently described me to someone as a "bulldog". (Funny that she tells me these things.) I fight for the change I believe in. I fight for the people I love. I'm a Scorpio. People should know better than to poke at me.

Song: Stacy Orrico.

Joyful music leads us sunward

2007-03-19T13:18:00.000-05:00

The Nuschler spent the weekend trying to remove his eye with his paws, so he's at the vet today, on an emergency visit. We didn't have an appointment, so he is there to get checked out whenever they can fit him in. So here I sit, wondering if he will need surgery, or a contact lens, or a cone around his neck.

Nuschler loves the vet. There's so much to smell, so many animals to meet and people to greet. Husbando brought him there this morning, where he tried to jump up on the high reception counter as usual. I'm told there are some dogs who hate going to the vet. Nusch will let them do anything to him so long as he gets a treat after.

The house is just so quiet without him...

Song: We sang "Joyful, joyful we adore thee" last night. Someone once told me that Beethoven is a difficult composer to appreciate. For a job in college, I had to fill out a dull application. For the "Why would you be a good...?" as answered "I am not afraid of Beethoven". Somehow that got me the job...

UPDATE: Nuschler had an abscess under his eye, most likely from fighting with another dog, probably my FIL's Gunner. Thus, for this week, I will rename Nuschler Tyler Durden. "I am Jack's abscessed eye..."

It's time to find a better place to hide

2007-03-17T21:48:00.000-05:00

Sus and le Bec are off running with teenagers while I sit here, happily stewing in my solitude with my ickpod, relishing in the sleep that is to come free from giggles through the wall. My mind wanders from subject to subject, wondering what you'd like to read about, what I'd like to share with you.

It's unfortunate that I can't read your mind nor can I tell you all my secrets.

I can tell you that, though I dropped a friend off at the proverbial bus stop weeks ago, I am starting to feel something real about it. Not regret. I'm thinking it's defeat. Like I couldn't make it work, I couldn't stop feeling pissed off/abused around her. There must be a balance between running from negative influences and being there for people in their times of drama. I get to choose that balance point, don't I...

It's still St. Patrick's Day for another hour or so. I have celebrated this occasion twice with two shamrock shakes. I usually wait until it is too late and they have run out of syrup. Not this year. My Norwegian/Swedish self sucked it up Irish style! hehehe.

Oh, I saw this on a bumper sticker, "If you can read this, thank a teacher. If it is in english, thank a vet." Um... Irony? Since when do we not cap English?

Song: This is from the Foo Fighters, which is equally ironic. I will not try to downplay Kurt's genius, just suggest that he was not the only talent in Nirvana.

She's like the wind

2007-03-15T18:27:00.000-05:00

Once a week I rush to a yoga class, running past all the people who work out as a religion and don't mind being naked in a public locker room. I guess I was raised that we have bodies so that we have a place to put our brains, so I was never that athletic. I have muscles, though I very strategically hide them under layers of chocolate-induced fat.

So I go to yoga, a discipline that is really great about acceptance at wherever you are in the practice. There's a good balance of experience in the class, from those who have done this for decades to those who topple over a lot. I'm in the middle, towards the toppling part of the spectrum.

I try to eat long before class so that I can get through it without interruption. But, alas, today I was concentrating so diligently on getting a pose correct that I let one go. Loudly. For the whole class to hear (but not smell, thankfully). I was giggling, beet-red, mortified.

This is why I don't like working out in public. I see women in cute little outfits, perfect hair and makeup, like it's supposed to be a refined outing. But I know me. I know that, with all that movement, I will be gaseous, sweaty and stinky.

Nuschler is the only one I want to share this with. He understands since, though he is unable to sweat, he is usually gaseous and prefers to be stinky.

Song: This is from Dirty Dancing, a movie that Bec and I conned our parents into letting us go to. There is a sad remake of it on the radio at the moment. It's not Patrick Sway-Z so what's the point?

Suppose I kept on singing love songs just to break my own fall

2007-03-14T23:22:00.000-05:00

Oy with the bullet points already!!

I'm feeling such pride. le Bec's recent post featuring mention of not only my puppy but my husband makes me so happy. I think Bec has the same kind of relationship with Punky as with Nuschler: She's not sure how to react to him and he does his best to pester her. And I watch. Amused.
I'm also proud of my friend, Samurai Bob, and his recent trip to Chicago with two hot chicks for Spring Break, as feature on Sus' blog.
Last week I spent an hour carving a dangerous route to my side door through endless feet of snow. The entire deck was covered and I had to work at opening the door. This morning, I opened the door and the deck is feel of snow. Amazing.
I started a new book last night and was immediately hooked. I love that! I am the queen of reading only three pages and then moving the book to different locations of my house waiting for the guilt to subside before I return it to its owner or sell it. And if it has that big "O" on the cover, forgetaboutit. I like books/music/movies as ant-depressants, not downers.
Song: This is from Regina Spektor, a very upbeat song about infidelity. I've been perfecting it in my home studio, which is a rapidly disintegrating plastic box Punky has the nerve to call a shower. We all have to be a rock star somewhere.

Nothing can hold you back if you really want it

2007-03-13T14:13:00.000-05:00

I love the ambiguity of March. March oscillates so quickly between winter and spring without apology. March is the wild child of the calendar months.

Nuschler and I took our walk today, as I so enjoyed the passed out puppy state he was in yesterday, lounging around outside like he was drugged. It is easy for him to dress for this kind of weather, being both furry for the cold and water-proof for the miniature lakes, streams and glaciers covering the park. There's even patches of grass.

We both came home soaked. I was running through the snow (quite a workout really) and trudging through deep waters (it only looks like a snow bank on the surface). I was waiting for someone to pop their head out of a nearby house and tell me to stop playing in the puddles.

Nope. It's way too much fun! Plus, I do my own laundry...

Song: This is classic Ricky Martin, which I dedicate to all of us out there still listening too much to those who would hold us down.

Hearts ablaze are our only ray of light

2007-03-11T23:12:00.000-05:00

There was a perfect moment yesterday. I was in the car with my brown-eyed boys (Punky and the Nuschler of course), listening to my music, the sun through the sun roof warm on my face on a lazy Saturday car ride. Punky smiled at me and that was it: Perfection.

There was a cool moment this morning too. I have problems thinking of God as a specific gender (could be the dumb boy who stalked me or the stupid male bosses who tried so damn hard to rip my humanity away from me - dunno). Thus I makes things neutral in the ways I pray and sing in the crowd. Usually I sing my gender neutral words quietly, perhaps not to rock the boat anymore than I already do.

But today I was next to le Bec, who sings the same. And, together, we both sang out loud the words of our preference and, in that perfect moment I thought, "Hmm.. We could take over the world..."

Song: I've been looking for new artists to fall madly in love with. This is from the Watson Twins, which remind me of Bec and I singing at our grandmother's church on Christmas Eve, only we were nervous and, thankfully, unrecorded. Very melodic.

I need inspiration, not just another negociation

2007-03-09T00:10:00.000-06:00

[I enjoy making criminal poetry with random words from people. Special thanks to le Bec and the Sas.]

you can dance at the top of your lungs
(like you mean it, like you can feel it on the inside)
you can play soccer with your food
you can plant petunias in your bathroom
you can drizzle chocolate sauce on your spaghetti
(it's better that way)
you can meow at your lover
(make everything five times louder)
you can let your abnormal thoughts shimmer in your head while you smile
and nod and pretend to be normal
(it is your life)

Song: More joy from Music & Lyrics.

Crazy go I if care don't I

2007-03-07T23:42:00.000-06:00

I was never any good at proofs in geometry as I always forgot the mundane statements in the middle. It felt like pointing out the obvious. But they don't call it proof for nothing.

I haven't blogged about my job search for a long time because it is a sore spot. I'm being called picky, which, yeah, I am. I would be terrible at following orders all day. I need to give input and take ownership of what I am doing. It angers me that I have all this education and am now over-qualified for most everything out there. What I am qualified for sounds kinda boring and gross (involves suiting up and heading into the sewer on occasion).

I know that I am capable of great things. Now I just have to figure out how to right out the proof.

Song: It took some time for me to figure out how to do the backwards correctly cuz my brain naturally messes things up.

Where do you go with your broken heart in tow? What do you do with the left-over you?

2007-03-06T23:13:00.000-06:00

One of the benefits of le Bec being in covenant discipleship is that I can sponge up the basic concepts without the weekly commitment, cuz, let's face it, I have major commitment issues. (Punky has only made it this far because he knows when to say sorry.)

One focus is on spiritual promptings, or what is my gut telling me. Today, I had a window of opportunity to either go home and chill or get groceries. Snow was starting to fall, so I was concerned about procrastinating until after my next appointment to get to the store. And I needed coffee. Thus, I went to the store. I felt compelled to go there.

As I was racing through, I ran into the friend of mine who had me watch her kids while she delivered her third daughter. She was there with the baby and my 5-year-old twin, Gil. We had a great, short visit there in the seasonal aisle, but I noticed something about Gil.

When I was five, I experienced the quantum leap of going from the baby of the family to the middle child. I still probably need therapy from that. And I could see it in Gil's eyes: I used to get away with murder and now I gotta be some kind of role model.

Don't worry kid. The new youngest will get away with murder, you will take the fall, but, in her eyes, you will always be a rock star.

Song: From Tegan and Sara on the Grey's Anatomy cd. I've been hearing the term "heart-broken" a lot. What kinda prompt is that?

Pop goes my heart.

2007-03-05T21:39:00.000-06:00

I've been having technical problems logging on, writing posts, making comments for about 24 hours now. Very suspect.

I'm on a watch list somewhere I just know it.

Therefore, eight posts have flown through my brain and now I sit here, perfectly capable of blogging, with nothing but frustration to talk about.

My neighbor's son blew her snow onto the one door in the house that we use to lock things up. I suppose she is in her eighties and can do as she pleases, but I spent an hour making a scary little path through there, then more time redoing her driveway. There is now a little ledge several feet off the ground that makes me feel like I am on my way to throwing bling into Mt. Doom. That would make Nuschler Samwise. (There was a precious moment when I could just see one of his eyes peeking over the snowbank to watch me. So cute.)

My other neighbor's son blew the snowplow blockade from my driveway on Sunday after watching my sad attempt to work it over with a metal shovel. There really are some awesome twenty-somethings out there after all.

By the way, mark your calendar for June 24, when I will be preaching at church for the first time. I will look to you for a sermon subject (though I will most likely use a lyric for the title). I was thinking something about using science terms to talk about our church. What do you think?

Song: This is from Music & Lyrics, which I laughed my way through this weekend. This song in particular has been stuck in my head as it is totally 80's with a fantastic, equally 80's-esque video. Ah, those were the days...

We're all in this together

2007-03-02T21:18:00.000-06:00

There are a few theories in science that I love more than others. I love the idea of entropy, of the world tending towards chaos regardless of your actions. I love using the laws of thermodynamics, cuz not being able to create or destroy matter/energy is a good reason to take life a little slower.

Then there's evolution.

I've been thinking about a few little kids in my life. They all seem way frickin' smart. I don't have any statistics on this, but perhaps humans are evolving and we only know how to define it, label it in terms of things that are wrong, like ADD.

A mom I know was told that her child needs to figure out how to follow rules and stand in line better, as well as a host of other conformities, as per the guidelines of the government. And I'm all for not leaving any child behind, but are these definitions, these labels, ultimately attempting to hold back evolution?

I think I better get out of the house tomorrow...

Song: From a cheestastic tv movie High School Musical. Yeah, I am, personally, not a sign of evolution...

My love don't cost a thing

2007-03-01T17:35:00.000-06:00

This blizzard is comical only cuz I don't have anywhere pressing to go.

I think there is something innately in us that needs to nest when the weather shuts us in. I feel the need to dust, sweep, bake, darn socks and sort. If I'm stuck here, then here had better be clean and stocked with good eats.

Yesterday, I got all sorts of lovely French and British things from le Bec (Thanks!), including two gorgeous scarves. I request scarves a lot when I have people willing to buy me things in foreign countries. For one, there is no sizing involved and they are very versatile. In college, two friends of mine went on separate trips to Italy. One came back with a beautiful green and red scarf, which I wear often.

The other came back with a forest green and mustard scarf.

Still trying to figure that one out. I would be frightened that she looked at this scarf and thought of my tastes, but I have convinced myself that it is a reflection more on her tastes than mine.

Oh, le Bec also bought herself the most beautiful earrings that I believe are crystal replicas of some crown jewels. I promise you that I am not much of a girly girl, but I am a jewelry junkie to the core!

Song: J.Lo. Just cuz.

Drop me in the middle so I can make a ripple effect

2007-02-28T13:02:00.000-06:00

I'm feeling Randome eau de le Bec today. Wahoo for bullet points!

I found Jack in my mailbox again today (24, Season 5, discs 4 and 5). I told him to get in the house but, since he has trouble with direct orders, he is hiding in the shed behind the garage staking out my neighbors again. He should check out one of them in the summer. Anyone mowing her lawn every other day is up to no good.
I got the mandatory blizzard groceries yesterday, though I forgot the choc-chips for that random need to bake that occurs when one is trapped. While I was in line, a young man got behind me with two frozen pizzas. I guess we all prepare in different ways.
I had an "a-ha" moment last week where I realized that I was approaching things with the wrong attitude from the wrong angle. I'm back to my "There's a smarter way to do/look at this" approach. It's refreshing, like a new hair color.
I have, however, been arguing a lot with bl0ckbu$ter employees who have this great new, but very flawed, online system and no one in the store is willing to see the flaws. Punky says I gotta let it go...
I've been thinking about the word "attach" a lot lately. I guess I don't get very attached to people. Well, except Punky, who knew from day 1 how to fit in my world. Interesting...

Have a lovely, shovel-free day!

Song: I think I have used this before, but I like it. Natasha Bedingfield.

One of these things first

2007-02-28T00:20:00.000-06:00

It's very quiet outside, that snowy stillness. I envy Nuschler's ability to walk outside with his fur coat and take it all in. He's quite majestic, surveying his kingdom, perfectly warm.

It's days like this that I feel we are all going quietly insane. You do the shoveling, the plowing, the reversing and driving it takes to get where you need to go and today, when the snow is so insurmountable, it feels like enough. I made it here, don't ask for anything else of me.

And, once you have it all clear, the weather laughs at you and dumps some more.

I suspect that my arms are going to sneak off in the middle of the night to avoid any use tomorrow. A preemptive strike. No more moving snow with that wonky shovel. Go out and find the one store that still has shovels. We'll come back when you have the proper snow removal tools.

But it's not enough to just shovel. You also need to socialize, work, push that GNP forward. And maybe, just for a second, enjoy the stillness before you have to shovel again.

And by "again", I mean Thursday.

(le Bec would like you to pray for a snow day, please)

Song: From Nick Drake. Great, melancholy stuff.

Walk this way

2007-02-26T22:19:00.000-06:00

Nuschler was giving me the death stare this morning.

He only wants four things in this world: Food, going outside, pets and walks. In my mind, this adds up to a total of four brain cells. No one meets Nusch and then says "He's a real smart dog." Nope, he's cute, huge, sweet, but not applying for any scholarships.

That one brain cell focused on getting a walk is a vicious, judgemental speck. He stares at me through his eye brows like a petulant five-year-old. He sighs with high drama. And whenever I change my clothes, he comes to watch and see if I am putting on the layers required of a walk in this weather. Kinda pervy actually.

So today we went. After one block of trudging, I thought I was going to keel over from exhaustion. I normally walk around the rink while he fetches things, but just threw the frisbee today. After a few throws/retrievals, Nuschler looked at me as if to say "I'm tired. You go get it."

On days like this I wonder if it is worth it. Having a happy, pooped out puppy, however, is priceless.

(Song from Aerosmith and Run DMC. I used to feel bad about liking this song. It's that skeezy lead singer that scares me most.)

Stuck in the middle with you

2007-02-25T12:32:00.000-06:00

Okay, the blizzard is here for real and we are stuck. There's no need to climb out a window just yet, but also no driving around unless totally necessary. Being stuck in the house on a lazy Sunday morning is luxurious.

I get really cagey being stuck. I used to have vivid dreams about being chased and not being able to run. My legs would not move. I vaguely remember this meaning that I was feeling emotionally stuck or indecisive.

These dreams stopped when I bought my first car. The ability to pack and run continues to calm my nerves, even though I wouldn't do it at the point. Nuschler would demand to come with me and Punky would expect me back soon to empty the dishwasher and find his wallet/keys/various info cards.

I love the saying "You don't have to change everything to change everything". I've been banging on the drum of change for a while now (I think I knew somehow what was coming) and I think it has to do with not feeling stuck. The silver lining about losing someone is the change that precipitates from it. After an appropriate amount of mourning and celebration, we can take ownership of the amazing things we have accomplished and look forward to amazing things we are gonna do next.

Have faith, it will be spectacular!

The rhythm is gonna get you

2007-02-23T23:18:00.000-06:00

I know it's Friday. Well, really it's almost Saturday. This week has flown by and my brain is trying to catch up.

There's a "blizzard" going on outside. The snow is swirling around the ground, creating an other-worldly effect. But the accumulation is not impressive. When I was a kid we would have blizzards that would lock you in your house for days until someone crawled out a window and shoveled to the door.

I like piles of snow. Last winter I could hop over the fence up at the field where Nusch and I walk and then he would run around it to catch me. Sure, I could try to hop the fence now, without the help of snow drifts, but I would need medical attention after.

But, it's been a crazy week and I can't even explain why. Lots of things came to a head, found a conclusion, met an endpoint. My friend thinks that we are experiencing a global hormone surge. This would explain the madness going on as well as my uncontrollable need to cry and eat ice cream.

le Bec returns tomorrow. Phew.

Song: This Gloria Estevan classic is from the tape that was stolen from my parent's vehicle in DC while we were on a family trip. The tape was actually in Bec's pack, but belonged to me. It was a tragic day...

Movin' to the country, gonna eat a lot of peaches

2007-02-21T21:32:00.000-06:00

I am missing le Bec something fierce at the moment. I need an hour on the phone with her to talk, laugh and groan. It's been a day.

Before she went off to her adventures, I borrowed some books and movies from le Bec. One book is "yeah, i said it" by Wanda Sykes. I don't know if you remember this woman, but she is dead funny. She is going off on all subjects from current affairs to politics. I'm laughing out loud a lot, but also agreeing with her opinions on the craziness.

She doesn't like the president, thinks he's rather dumb. I think we should vote for Wanda for president. A strong black woman in the office is just what this country needs. She seems to be smart enough to know when she is not smart enough and find people to advise her smartly on the areas she's not smart enough in.

And, really, we have set the bar of expectation so low that, even if she does a poor job, she would at least be entertaining about it. Even I would watch the state of the union address if there was comedy mixed in with the tragedy.

(Song: I can't remember if I have used this one before. It's from The Presidents of the United States. )

If God would send His Angels...

2007-02-20T10:47:00.000-06:00

I just finished reading this article about the rise in middle-class teens beating up and sometimes killing homeless people for fun. I warn you that this article is graphic and disturbing. I did my best to read fast so that I wouldn't throw up, but I couldn't prevent the crying.

Where does this start? Parents who don't teach their kids about compassion or that drug and alcohol use leads to poor decisions and inconceivable consequences? Schools that aren't given enough money for programs that keep kids involved in activities? A government whose "do it for yourself" policies are leaving the fringe population vulnerable? Too much exposure to fictitious violence or media violence that is too detached from the reality of violence?

This makes me sad and very, very angry.

On the flip side, last night Craig Ferguson of the Late, Late Show decided not to make fun of Britney for shaving her head (for myself, I have been saying that I hope her family is working to help her). He says that comedy should be poking fun at the rich and powerful, not the vulnerable. Craig, applause for you and thanks!

Waiting on the world to change

2007-02-19T18:33:00.000-06:00

Jack Bauer has finally let me go. For now.

Season 5 is also on DVD (Fox does well with getting the dvd of the previous season out in time to catch up with the next season. Normally, the seasons do not have a big arc in between, but this one had an interesting thread.

Towards the end of this season (which I will be vague about in case you plan on giving that much time to dvd), I was getting tired of the faux president. It reminded me that there is a night and day difference between being cocky and being confident. We are so used to seeing the former that we don't recognize the latter.

In the idealist world located only in my mind, so much of the violence happening in the world could be prevented by good foreign policy. But people will never stop wanting power, money and the freedom to be good or evil, so danger will continue to exist.

And I suppose for my tiny part, all I can do is be more intentional.

Granted, it is just a tv show.

(Song: John Mayer. I do love this song. I just wonder how someone who can think this deeply can also date someone so seemingly dumb. Irony is alive and well...)

One blaze of glory

2007-02-18T23:18:00.000-06:00

I'm going to keep talking about change until people in general start to believe that I mean it.

Let's take "Change is scary", stuff it in a box and throw it in the corner of your storage closet. It is as useful there as anywhere else.

The debate in my head is between wanting change but not liking the backlash from those who don't want it and not changing just to keep everyone happy. And, I gotta tell you, I'm starting to not care about the toes I'm gonna step on.

Are you uncomfortable, but okay with that?

(Song lyric: From Rent, which I discovered in movie form last year. Le bec saw it with the rents (hehehe) and was luke warm about it. I watched in alone and was singing in non-stop instantly. Punky does a riotous rendition of Seasons of Love. He has an inner lounge singer.)

Welcome to the jungle

2007-02-17T19:40:00.000-06:00

I'm an orphan. Well, a married, puppy-owning orphan. The rents have gone to go-Far to visit nu-Ma, the wee-bro and le Bec is loving Paris, which leaves me here in a no-phone-call state of Zen.

Complain I do not. Glee feel I not. Statement simply I make.

(Yeah, I'm feeling good tonight and will dispense with normal sentence structure. Yoda I will speak.)

If Britney can't keep it together, how can the rest of us? (Before you comment galore, I'm JUST KIDDING.) I threaten to shave my head, but it has become tolerable since growing past the mullet stage.

Punky watched a ton of 24 today, so I should go and catch up. Oy with the terrorism...

(Song lyric: Gun's N Roses. I could tell you that I'm not a fan, but that would only be part of the truth. I love the guitar player, Slash. Under his rock fro is a totally normal, non-druggie guy who holds up his end of the conversation. Fantastic. Also, during an endless stretch of WI in a car, Punky and I made up a WI tourist song to the tune of Jungle. "Welcome to Wisconsin, we've got lots of cheese...)

Lancelot Link: Secret Chimp

2007-02-15T17:23:00.000-06:00

Jack Bauer was in my mailbox again yesterday and today (24, Season 4, Discs 3 and 4). He must be staking out my neighbors.

The problem with a show that is set over consecutive 24 hours is that, eventually, they are going to have to go beyond the confines of logic.

Each episode starts with a seven minute recap of the continuing storylines (which kinda gives away what to expect as some of the recaps are very old). We can only assume that during these seven minutes, Jack hits the restroom, grabs a light snack, takes a power nap, downs a caffeinated beverage and calls his mother. Especially since he does none of these things the rest of the time.

Sure, one could argue that this man is trained to go, go, go. He can run on a tablespoon of water and a protein bar for three days with no sleep. Punky paused the dvd at a point where Jack had his eyes closed. We felt bad about waking him up after that. Could have been his only sleep until the end of the last disc.

Still, this show is fascinating and compelling stuff. And it lends a bit of hope to those who think we are at the mercy of terrorists, especially if there are super-agents out there who will not rest, eat, or call their moms until you are safe.

(Yes, that is not only a song lyric, but a tv show I loved back in middle school. What can I say, I like spy shows.)

I am not an angry girl, but it seems like I've got everyone fooled

2007-02-14T16:30:00.000-06:00

I'm not going to call this the most romantic day of the year. Punky likes to rebel against fabricated romance by being annoyed the whole day (and playing two boot hockey games this evening).

Bec is off to France today. I now have ten days without phone calls to/from her or any of her plans that include me, which means I should get a lot done and will miss her something crazy in about nine days.

In the meantime, I have cleaning to do. They came and fixed my phone line, replacing the 1950's original line. I did have a lovely conversation with a woman after we both tried to make a call, not to each other. I also had fun testing the new line by wandering around the house, which made Nuschler turn in quick circles all excited.

Recently I talked about making new friends. I like a range of friends of all ages who offer up wisdom, energy and resources. The hard part is that there are friends I have to let go of (if you are reading this, it's probably not you). Heart-breaking, but necessary.

[insert sad rendition of "circle of life"]

(Song lyric from "Not a Pretty Girl" by Ani DeFranco, who cheers me up when I'm sad, calms me down when I am mad and reminds me to fight the good fight.)

Sisters and Brothers, Brothers and Sisters, Each and Everyone!

2007-02-13T20:43:00.000-06:00

As Bec said, it is our "little" brother's birthday today. She may have fond memories of the day. For me, it was a tough time.

I had been lobbying hard for a puppy. Please, please, please. Instead, I was told, I was going to get a sibling to play with, which is okay, but not a puppy. I only vividly remember two events of this time. The first was being given a gift for the baby by someone at church, who dumped coffee on me in the process. Oh the misery. (And yes, Sally, I have forgiven you. It is, however, too funny to forget!)

The second memory is looking into the baby's crib the first day they came home. I was standing in the room that used to be mine, surrounded by new toys and fresh baby smells, looking through the bars of the crib thinking "This is it?". I had no use for this newborn; He was dull and demanding, more interested in eating/sleeping/pooping than playing with his new toys. I was five and I didn't understand the hype.

With time he got more interesting. He holds his end of the conversation quite well these days and we have a killer Sven and Ole routine. And while there is part of me that has trouble letting him be a grown-up after so many years of taking care of him and protecting him, it's equally cool to think that I had some hand in making him the good man he has turned out to be.

So Happy Birthday, Matt!

With lots of love (and a couple tears),
Sara

[The song lyric is from Free to Be, You and Me]

Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should

2007-02-12T11:02:00.000-06:00

I'm going to work towards talking about my song lyric titles a bit more. This one is from the Dixie Chicks, whom I talked about a while ago. Their backlash anthem was on the top of the charts for a long time this summer, much to my delight. Now that they swept the Grammy's they were nominated for, I'm excited. I don't feel like I have to worry so much about my freedom to not agree with the government.

Something odd is happening in my house. For the second day in a row, I woke up to no water. I know, I know. Winter. Still makes me think of the simple things I take for granted.

My phone is acting up. It clicks, echoes and sounds like someone is listening. I do a lot of business on the phone, so this is particularly annoying. If I am talking to my mom or Bec, one of us says "That Bush is so great" or something to that effect. I'm waiting for the GOP to call for a donation.

My internet connection is also quirky lately. I asked Punky if someone could hack our firewall. Nope. Granted, I believe a really motivated person can do anything. Especially if I am on a watch list.

(p.s. Why does the blog speckcheck not recognize the word "internet"?)

Love will open every door

2007-02-11T00:44:00.000-06:00

I need to sit down the write out the things in my head and create some sort of organization before it all gets fuzzy.

I was at a training at church today and it went by way too fast. I wanted to know a lot more. The trainer started by saying, "Boomers changed the world and now we don't know what to do with it." I burst out with applause. I also found out that my dislike of "contemporary" services is a generational thing. In some, small ways, I'm actually normal. Who knew?

Unless I am on a sleep-deprived craze, I don't think I've been this excited about my place in the church in years. And, as I suspected it would, all of it translates to more than the one hour service Sunday morning.

If you're interested, check out www.IgnitingMinistry.org It's worth your while.

Where does the good go?

2007-02-09T09:36:00.000-06:00

I spent a bit of time driving around in my car yesterday, running errands etc, thinking about all this generational stuff that is bending me and others out of shape. The hardest bit is convincing people who have known me since I was three to see me as a capable adult. But there's more to it.

I remember a conversation I had with an ex-boyfriend shortly after Punky and I got married. Neither of us called. He just happens to be my dear friend's brother and a premonition about these exact situations is the reason I almost stood him up almost ten years ago. Anyway, it was a strange conversation and, for reasons I couldn't explain at the time, I felt compelled to justify why I had gotten married.

I felt, and still feel, that me and my peers had to redefine marriage. Not the boundaries, but the daily bits. Communicate, have fun, push each other to grow. My generation also became the people who got married for the sake of the party, so we're not perfect.

So my thought in the car was this: Why did we stop redefining things at marriage? Why not redefine what it means to be an adult? To be responsible? To be a good citizen? To be a good parent? Why does being concerned with the world, with politics, the environment, children, all of it, have to result in being serious and depressed? Does not being serious and depressed all the time mean I'm an incapable airhead? Is serious and depressed the only way to change the world?

I really hope not. Because I plan to change the world being the silly, goofy, joking, but strong, smart, concerned person I am.

I keep you my dirty little secret

2007-02-08T00:13:00.000-06:00

I found Jack Bauer in my mailbox today, restlessly waiting between the magazines and the bills.

His mission for me is simple: Watch an insane amount of television to plow through the fourth season of his hit show to keep up with Punky. Punky has the intestinal fortitude to watch eight episodes straight while I start gnawing on the furniture from nervous tension around my fourth episode.

I started a scarf for Bec after the second episode of the evening with 20 stitches. By the end of the third ep, I was down to 16 stitches. It is rare for me to drop a stitch, much less 4.

But, it's addictive, smart television that assumes its viewers are intelligent.

So, bring it on!

(Side Note: The picture is toys from 24 Season 1, which is hilarious. Jack Bauer is in the middle, looking unkempt, tired and slightly derailed as usual. If I owned these dolls, I would have the most fun with his daughter, the blond female of questionable fashion taste, having her be kidnapped, kidnapped, and kidnapped. That girl needs every tracking device possible implanted pronto!)

Cosy in the rocket and I need to go, to go, go, go

2007-02-05T23:47:00.000-06:00

There's a stack of motivational books in my house waiting for me to get past chapter three. I'm not motivated to move forward in any of them. Ironic, huh.

Last week I actually finished one. The first nine chapters were fantastic, all about decisions a person must make to be a good leader. There was plenty of preach in it, which grated a little, but mostly it made great points through an interesting story.

Then came chapter ten, when the author decided to make his pro-Iraq plea that a good leader goes to war, charges against the foe. Being raised on literature, I can't just rip these pages out, do my own edit. So I put a note at the beginning of the chapter. I believe a good leader avoids war until all peaceful routes have been exhausted. Now I feel okay passing it on.

Side note: I've talked with quite a few cool people today and I get the feeling that we all don't know what to worry about first and most: Global warming, nuclear war, our children, our time, our commitments. It's soon gonna be one big party in a padded room.

Parents just don't understand

2007-02-04T20:18:00.000-06:00

Wow, my last post lit quite a little fire.

First, let me explain that not all the people I was with are vain crazies. Just a few. There were other people there as visibly disgusted as I was. I would say the age range was mostly gen x with older boomer parents.

Second, and I hate to break this to you, but materialism started with boomers. In 1987, the movie Wall Street said "Greed is Good" and, I believe, coined the phrase "Yuppie Greed". I didn't get to see this movie because I was only 11 at the time, but I believe that the 80's were all about the boomers being proud that they were able to not only provide for their families (which their parents struggled to do), but give them a little more, a nicer car, a better vacation. Right now, most of marketing is for the boomers, who have most of the money power in this country.

The "more" that people provide for their families has grown in definition through the generations. Being able to provide your teenager with insane things is now the height of success. But how will your teenager ever grow up?

We watched this great movie called The Last Kiss this evening. It's about a group of twenty-nine-year-old friends going through early mid-life crisis. This raw, emotional movie was so dead-on that it was hard to watch. These guys are not materialistic, but very afraid of the future, of making mistakes, of making decisions, of screwing things up.

I can't really explain generation y to you, as I am not one and equally do not understand them yet. But I can tell you about generation x. We are not selfish, materialistic or ignorant to the ways of the world. We were supposed to have easy lives because so much was given to us, but life will be difficult regardless of what you start out with.

We are doing the best we can.

Just can't get enough

2007-02-02T23:39:00.000-06:00

Punky and I got to tour one of the new condos downtown. These condos have a spectacular view of the harbor and nice amenities, but they are small! Punky and I would be tripping over each other. We have separate living rooms on different floors of our house and it is what makes our marriage work. If we had separate bathrooms, life would be perfect.

We were with a group of young professionals, people who read motivational books and talk about fancy cars. People who like interesting, over-priced real estate. I got into a debate with two over image. They were suggesting that you must look successful in order to become successful, especially with the car you drive. And you can't say or do anything really cruel because it will hurt your image.

I tried to argue that I would rather drive a modest car and give to charity and I would refrain from being really cruel because I'm a decent human. (I am mildly cruel cuz I have a big mouth and enjoy irony).

Is the vanity of success ever going to not bother me?

Baby it's cold outside

2007-01-30T10:10:00.000-06:00

Oh man is it cold. I bundled up for a walk with the Nuschler (it's been a few days so he is juicy!). The cord to my ear phones froze after a bit. Not a good sign.

It's the perfect day to curl up under a mountain of quilts, drink hot tea/coffee/cocoa, read a good book (Jane Austin? Christopher Moore? David Sedaris?), listen to cool music and warm out ("chill out" seems like an inappropriate phrase).

But, alas, I need groceries. No Austin for me.

Side note: Our church is doing a welcoming seminar that focuses on hospitality in the church. I figure, if they could teach me how to approach visitors inside the church, maybe those skills could also transfer to locations outside the church as well. Bring on the social skills!

If you know what I am talking about with this seminar, I expect to see you there!

Let's get it started in here

2007-01-28T17:31:00.000-06:00

I'm in the mood to start something, or maybe a few things. I tried to take a little nap this afternoon, but my mind was buzzing with ideas.

I want to start a wacky new business in town. Something unique, never heard of before. Something really fresh.

I want to start protesting. I want to be the one at the anti-gay marriage rally with the sign that says "Gays are great- Let them set a date!"

I want to start wearing lots of buttons. I keep telling Bec that we need a button maker. I want one for 4th Sundays that says "I rely on grace", as pushing the button for the presentation is not mindless at all. Then I'll make a Nuschler button for my dad and he'll never take it off.

I want to start that Gen X outreach group. I recently read an article about how reality tv is all about baby boomers bullying the younger generations. This had not occurred to me before, but it's totally true (consider comb-over man and the Brit music producer). The article said that the moral is that the bully always wins. This falls in line with why I feel sick and tired of being treated like a wisdomless idiot child. What would that button look like?

Are you feeling it? What do you want to start?

Few times I've been 'round that track so it's not just gonna happen like that

2007-01-27T00:24:00.000-06:00

The last three days have been absolutely nuts. Once I'm done with this, a well-deserved passing-out is in order, so bear with me on sentence structure.

Twice in the past two days someone has called me pretty. And while I have learned how to take a compliment (Say "Thank you", smile and nod, try not to argue with them or suggest an eye exam), this floors me. Say what you will, but in my mind, I will always be the five-year-old tomboy with boys for friends and two long braids. Cute, sure. Pretty? Pretty will have to grow on me.

I attended a women's networking lunch today in an attempt to hand out resumes. Self-promotion is not my strong suit- I prefer to grow on people like a friendly fungus. But I went, schmoozed, threw resumes around, pretended there was a remote chance I would remember any names for more than 2 minutes and then something amazing happened:

I heard my burning bush.

The speaker talked about inventions, about developing big ideas and bringing them into fruition. Not four years ago I was talking about a patent. I was writing a business plan. I was thinking my big ideas. And there I was at a random event with random people being hit over the head with a clear sign.

Not random at all.

Meditate on this I shall.

You gotta have friends

2007-01-24T16:55:00.000-06:00

I had coffee with a friend this morning, someone who is full of energy, ideas and connections. She is that rare combination of down-to-earth and encouraging and inspiring. I went home absolutely WIRED. (My mother can attest to this as I called her) Then I vacuumed to burn off some energy.

I'm not the kind of person who prays a lot. I find my thoughts throughout the day to be a running conversation with God. "God, tell me what to say" "God, how to I fix this problem?" "God, my butt is HUGE." I say thanks a lot too, smile a lot.

A while back I asked God for some friends, some people my age and in my same circumstance to kick around with. And, while I am always meeting new people, three come to mind as new friends the most: The businesswoman, the scientist and the student. I don't even know if these will be life-long, but for now they rock!

Pretty cool.

Nothing's gonna change my world

2007-01-22T12:40:00.000-06:00

I enjoyed writing Sunday's list so much that I think I'll try bullet points today.

There's a few hoodlums breaking into houses in my hood. During the day, I'm angry and at night I'm scared. Part of me wants to band together with neighbors and patrol the area. The other wants my bat near me at all times.
I had to make an emergency puppy food run last night and ran into Michelle and Theo making an emergency gecko food run. Punky is usually in charge of these things, so talk about fate!
Point of irony: Donny changed his name to Don, wanting to convey a more serious image. But is that not him making a goofy face on a billboard on Trinity?
After years of straightening my hair, lamenting it's sad, flat nature, and making vicious Spinal Tap references, I finally figured out how to embrace my wavy hair and scrunch it. Fabulous!
There's a commercial on about stopping childhood obesity, which does need to be addressed, but it seems to put the responsibility on moms to fix it. This really bothers me and I don't really know why. It would be also great if we had government food and drug agencies who cared enough to stop the production of hydrogenated oils. I bought snack bars that boasted fiber content and forgot to look for h.o.'s. Silly me, thought healthy in one way would be healthy in another...

What have I, what have I, what have I done to deserve this?

2007-01-21T18:12:00.000-06:00

I've been trying to log in to blog all weekend. I finally figured out how to get in through the back door.

I was going to tell you about the LONG walk I took Nuschler on yesterday morning and how he was a pooped puppy all night. He was laying across the bottom of the front door like one of those draft catchers. Too funny.

I was going to tell you about a magazine, which has a list of hot things you don't have to do in 2007. First on the list is blog all your secrets. Last is cardio pole dancing.

I was going to tell you about how I am feeling judged and therefore become judgmental, or I am judgmental and therefore feel judged. Jane, how do I get off this vicious cycle?

I was going to talk about watching Grey's and Ugly with Punky asleep on the couch opposite me. I wept during Grey's and tried to keep it quiet. And I laughed so hard during Ugly I was gripping my chest trying to stifle it. Both so, so good.

I was going to talk about how my friend's 7-year-old asked if Punky and I are having sex (they don't watch Will & Grace anymore) and her husband asked me all about kids and our possible inabilities. Goodness. Where have good manners gone?

And finally, I could talk about this nagging feeling that it is time for big change. I'll keep Punky and the pooches.

But, no, I'm now too frustrated to blog.

Goodnight my angel time to close your eyes

2007-01-18T12:25:00.000-06:00

For the last two weeks I have been on baby watch. A friend of mine was due this week and needed someone to watch her two daughters while she and her husband ran to the hospital.

I was thrilled, as I love her kids. They are totally me and Bec when we were kids. The older one is very serious, asks a lot of questions, needs things to be just so and responds poorly to change. Yeah, that's Bec. The younger one is the wild child, demanding lots of attention, constant wardrobe changes, hugs and cuddling. Yeah, that's me.

I got the call last night and ran over to their house. I was ready to camp out on the couch all night. Shortly after they left, Gil, the youngest, tried to crawl into bed with her parents and found them missing. She fell apart a little, figured out I was there and decided my sleeping bag would work too. I only let her stay a few minutes - there are some lines you just can't cross with other people's kids, even innocent cuddling- then back to bed.

Sometime, not now and not any time real soon, I'm going to have little cuddlers of my own.

The baby was born very early in the morning, very quickly and healthy. A girl named Sonya. Or Sonia. I was woken up so many times in the night that my brain is fuzzy.

Dream a little dream with me

2007-01-17T09:49:00.000-06:00

I've been having very vivid dreams lately.

Last night (or more accurately this morning), I dreamt that the megamall decided that, as long as people are willing to come from all over the world to shop, they should be prepared for beings from all over the universe and beyond to come and shop.

This renovation involved a new hotel connected to the mall that could only be accessed by a space ship and a tube to crawl through to get to the room (Because, of course, other planets would not have issues with animal hormones or hydrogenated plant oils and would be tiny things that liked to crawl).

With me was my sister, my parents and my grandmother all circa late 70's, when we would travel together. Once we got into the room, it was just like the Jetson's - gadgets galore. After playing with all the buttons, which I LOVE to do, I discovered that it was one big room shared by lots of people. I woke up while trying to disarm the security feed.

Interpretation? I should be running around telling people to get ready, they are coming! Call the megamall with an interesting suggestion?

Everythings gonna be alright - No woman, no cry

2007-01-15T23:14:00.000-06:00

Lately, I have been addressing cards, stamping them, and putting them in my planner so that, when I have a spare moment, I can write a note to a friend. My friends and I, well, we all seem to be living at a crossroads.

Ours was the generation raised to have it all, to be well educated and full of potential. We have a lot of options and many choices. Our lives would be made easy through science and technology. But a great dishwasher and better birth control does not make those choices easier or simpler. It is, just maybe, a little harder.

I got into a discussion with my boomer dad about parents not wanting their children to make mistakes. My argument is that, while no parent enjoys being in the bleachers of life while their children screw up, I'd rather see my hypothetical kids take risks, make a few mistakes, and trust themselves to be resourceful enough to come out of it okay. If you don't make room for mistakes, you won't have room for success either.

So I'm writing to my friends. Within each of us is a hole we can't seem to fill, a baby that can't be conceived, a house that can't be bought, a job that can't be found, a marriage that can't be unbroken, a debt that can't be repaid. Spread a little hope, share a little grace.

I have been weighing my options for getting more involved at my church. I'm thinking a gen-x outreach program would be great.

As I write this, I am thinking of my own mistakes and the many lessons that I have learned. At the same time, a puppy and his master are playing on the stairs and I hear thumps, growls, barks and uproarious laughter. A beautiful moment.

It's not getting what you want, it's wanting what you've got

2007-01-14T19:35:00.000-06:00

In my quest for organization and a more-minimalized household, I have been thinking about other things I have that I don't really want. And, no, I won't talk about excess pounds or that extra foot of hair on my head.

I was thinking about my Master's degree in Organic Chemistry. While I can't call it a mistake, as that path brought me to Punky, who is not a mistake only an occasional annoyance, its not my greatest accomplishment. And now it is my definition, one that I must explain over and over again. Why do I have a degree I no longer want? Well, sometimes it is more fun learning how to do something than doing it 40-70 hours a week.

While some people lie on job applications about their criminal pasts, their momentary indiscretions, their only-slightly-legal citizenship, I would like to lie about my education. I have pieces of paper verifying that I have done time in College State Penitentiary. Isn't that enough?

So, what should I do with this degree? I'd love to sell it in a garage sale, throw it on ebay, barter it for land - make it into something useful. If I could donate it to charity that would be a sweet write-off.

But, no, it has my name on it. And I guess I have to accomplish something greater than it so that this degree is only a part of me, not the sum of me.

Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone?

2007-01-11T20:56:00.000-06:00

Two things you should know about me:

1. I am directionally challenged. Punky knows that, should he ever want to be rid of me, all he need do is drop me off in the woods or in the middle of the megamall. The woods are full of the same trees and the mall is full of the same three stores, so I would be hopelessly lost either way.

2. Regardless of the fact that I see myself as a force to be reckoned with, I am very approachable. Especially at certain stores where employees wear red. Even if I am not wearing red myself, I am asked where things are.

Today, a woman asked me for directions to a pizza place while I was at the above store. Yes, I do live here and have for the majority of my life. Still does not mean I know exactly where things are and how to instruct others to get there. And yes I do know my left from my right. It's the practical use of those words that are a hiccup for me.

I really do hope she figured it out...

Hello Mr. Zebra

2007-01-09T15:10:00.000-06:00

Expectations are always difficult. I have been working on my response to them for a while now and am getting more comfortable about not pleasing people.

I remain, however, a puppy pleaser.

The Nuschler got two walks yesterday, one rather long one with me in the morning and another with our friend in the afternoon. I was hoping this would mean a rather tired puppy today, one that wouldn't demand a walk, but no.

He has mastered the art of looking pathetic, of sighing and moaning, of always being in the way until he gets his way and, of course, always keeping an eye on his audience. I've never been the mom of a teenager, but I'm guessing it's rather similar. Granted, Nusch never treats me like his personal atm...

So today, after another long walk (made entertaining for me also thanks to my new mp3 player), I have a pleased, tired, leaving me alone doggie and the ability to get something else done...

Sorry, I'm not home right now, walking in a spiderweb, so leave a message and I'll call you back

2007-01-08T22:03:00.000-06:00

I enjoy wrong numbers. I kinda like talking to random strangers and I'm usually nice about letting them know they dialed incorrectly or got the wrong number somehow.

I even think it's funny when they argue, as if I really am the person they seek. It's tempting to "confess" and tell them to stop calling me. Odds would be good that I am doing someone a favor.

Today, a dear, sweet woman called and sang me "Happy Birthday". Well, not me. Someone named Janice or something. But still, there was a smile on my face and it broke my heart to have to tell her she had the wrong number. She told me the number she was trying, which was very different and, before she hung up, she told me to enjoy my birthday.

How sweet is that?

This is where we used to live

2007-01-06T22:21:00.000-06:00

It is a magical time of year. It is that time of year that we all put on another sweater, make some hot cocoa/tea/Irish creme and get down to the heart-warming task of...

Organizing.

It starts with the Christmas gifts, the ritual of putting them away and incorporating them into our lives. Then the decorations, putting them back into storage, thrilled to regain the space they occupied.

I don't know about you, but I'm in a big, bad pitch it/dump it/donate it/shred it/recycle it/get it out of my house mood. It's all baking my karma, dumping on my chi. I refuse to buy more shelves, bins, organizers. I just want less stuff.

I want the stuff I do have to be the important things. Or, at the very least, the working things. All else must go!

Ahh, feels good!

We all are portions for foxes

2007-01-04T20:36:00.000-06:00

I like moving around. I love wandering around a new city/town on foot to find the little nooks and crannies that make a city interesting. I love finding the best bookstore or coffeehouse nearest my home.

Now, I live in a burb so close to the mall that I decide which way to turn out of my driveway based on where I go shopping first. There is no ma and pa grocery store nearby to grab the three items I need for dinner. I frequent the one gas station because if they close, I'm really in trouble.

The cool place to walk to is the community club, where Nuschler and I have spent countless hours chasing frisbees and, like today, catching pucks on the ice. There are tons of places to get coffee and books, but only within walking distance if I like a long, hilly hike. I will be thinking about that when we finally get around to looking for house number two.

And, while I don't pretend to be living in a big metropolitan city, I forget just how woodsy it is here. I am reminded quickly, like on Monday when our neighbor spent a few hours outside boiling the head of a deer.

Yuck.

Happy New Year!

2007-01-01T22:51:00.000-06:00

On my inspiration board I have a note from a friend that says:

"Life According to Elvis: The three things you need in life:
1. Something to Do
2. Someone to Love
3. Something to look forward to"

I've been looking forward to 2007 for a long time. This is the year that Punky graduates from college and we get to act like a normal married couple (or at least pretend to be normal like everyone else).

I was not a fan of 2006 either. Yesterday at church, we were invited to write down bits of emotional baggage from 2006 and put it in a fire, which was lovely. (I would tell you what they were but they are no longer mine to tell- I let them go. Just picture me center-stage running the media system writing down my painful/sad/angry bits and working on my poker face.) The theme of the sermon was relying on grace.

I all too often forget about grace. Here's a good example: I have recently had blog constipation. I can't seem to write something I deem meaningful or worth your time. I start writing about how my wardrobe is now shifting from pink to green and how I feel like it's a sign of a shift in my mood/focus. But then I think someone random from reality will comment on my wearing green and I will feel exposed. Or I'll write something that offends someone. It is near impossible to speak from your mind and heart without offending anyone.

So I will rely on grace. And you can comment on one of the three new green scarves I got for Christmas and I'll be fine. I'll probably even laugh....

By the way, we took Nusch on a LONG walk today with another puppy and then bathed him, making him the cutest ball of tired fluff I have ever seen. Smells good too!

Do they know it's Christmastime at all?

2006-12-30T10:03:00.000-06:00

I think they call it the Christmas hangover, not due to binge drinking but binge yule-tiding. Too much too soon with no tolerance for all the action. Four days later and I still can't bring myself to make a new to-do list. Remedies anyone?

Okay, so I've been watching this new sitcom on TBS called "My Boys" for the last couple months. It's about a tomboy sportswriter and her gaggle of male friends plus her token female friend. Being a tomboy myself, it's nice to have someone on tv to relate to. But here's my point: They had the most fabulous season ending I have seen in a long time. It wasn't huge or mind-altering, just great. All of the episodes are online if you are interested...

Thankful. Grateful. Blessed.

2006-12-25T23:18:00.000-06:00

More beautiful moments...

... waking up to a clean kitchen because I stayed up an extra 15 minutes to do the dishes
... hearing a gasp of horror from my SIL and seeing a look of shock from my husband as I opened up a scarf that looked too much like a nightie from my MIL - hilarious!
... laughing with my mom and sister
... having my mom tell me that she saw the gift from me under the tree and hoped it would be exactly what it was - Yes!
... knowing that I have a year-long break before I have to do this again

So, have a great Dec. 26th, which should probably be the best day of the year as you bask in the glow of the Christmas that was...

Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas

2006-12-25T00:32:00.000-06:00

Not that many years ago, I believed in a perfect Christmas - not that I had had one, just that it was possible. Now I'm coming around to the notion that the perfect Christmas is the myth thrown at us by commercials while a really great Christmas is obtained by stringing together beautiful moments...

... watching the children put together the manger scene at church
... crying to "Breath of Heaven" at church because a year ago I didn't know the kind of loss that I know now
... watching four little kids rip into gifts with reckless joy
... seeing my nephew charge around in his new spidey suit, complete with foam, defined pectoral muscles and biceps (I suppose this borders on disturbing as well)
... having that same precious boy give me a kiss goodbye because he's finally old enough to really know me
... seeing a friend get excited over a gift my mom and I had spent a lot of time putting together
... driving home from the rowdy activities, talking and laughing with Punky while a very tired puppy groans from the back seat for us to keep quiet

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

The love we found we carry with us so we're never quite alone

2006-12-21T10:19:00.000-06:00

Okay, I think I'm out of my funk. It finally occurred to me last night when Punky was done with his last final of the semester and was a happy man again-I've been trying to be happy for two! He's been an ornery bear for months, not all the time, but most of it.

How lovely to have him back!

Last night I watched the Muppet Christmas Carol while Nuschler curled up in a cute golden ball on the couch next to me. I traditionally watch this movie with my kid brother, but we don't seem to have time to fit it in with both of our mad Christmas schedules. Nusch has no Muppet appreciation. I may have to make boy wonder watch it with me on eve of eve.

After a few years of racing around for Christmas and only being alone with my husband in the car (not a great time/place to exchange gifts, enjoy each other's company), we started carving out time on eve for each other. And we watch White Christmas. It's tradition.

My mom and I spend a day each December making cookies and watching Christmas movies, usually If You Believe, a Lifetime movie that rocks. We also watch Home Alone and marvel at the bad parenting skills and ridiculous government service mishaps.

And, while I appreciate classics like A Christmas Story and the Grinch, I really love the Family Stone. Nothing shows the reality of Christmas like trying to fit in with a tight, slightly dysfunctional family.

And a Happy New Year.

2006-12-15T22:56:00.000-06:00

I keep writing posts and then not publishing them. Everything I write feels too personal, too open, too superficial.

Have a happy Christmas if I don't talk to you sooner!

Parents are people, people with children

2006-12-13T10:05:00.000-06:00

I caught "Free to be... You and Me" on Sunday morning and taped it before running to church. I started watching a little of it last night with Punky until he threw his hands up in protest at the overly Seventies tunes.

I was raised on this program, this type of thinking. Punky has a more live and let live so leave me alone in my shell attitude, while I would like to start protesting for equality. I get warm fuzzies just watching this program and hoping that, one day, we as a human race will support each other equally.

I also started my Christmas shopping yesterday. I have been thinking about it for a month, so it wasn't too hard. There are a few people I need filler stuff for, but I'm doing well. But let's take a moment to discuss customer service.

For the most part, when I have a customer who asks for my help in picking out the perfect product, I know what I am talking about. There are a handful of products I don't use or have no customers on, but otherwise I know what I'm talking about.

I walked into that department store that has a softer side. Went into the tool department and asked for the perfect new gadget for the man who has every tool. The salesman looked at me like I had two heads. Dude, you work here! I called my dad, who knew exactly what I should buy (for him and the in-law) and when it would be on sale.

Then I went to the big book store and asked for a suggestion for the man who loves books by a specific author. They found the saleswoman who reads that genre who successfully answered my questions to prove she really does know the genre and picked out the perfect book.

Which I then ordered from the little, local book store. Hehehe. Still, that is customer service.

Run away with me

2006-12-09T10:18:00.000-06:00

I love movies. I love the way movies draw me in, make me feel and think and rethink. I love terrible movies that make me laugh and important movies that make me cry.

Punky and I bonded over a terrible movie on our first date and I often think our connection wouldn't have been as strong had the movie been good. Every year, a cable channel shows all the Bond movies during the Holidays. Punky loves watching them while I sit by, asking for clarifications of logic and complaining about poorly written female leads.

But we went to the new Bond last night. The buzz made me excited about a Bond we could both love. The opening chase scene was incredible, but believable fun. The bad guy was creepy, but dynamic. The female lead was smart, but clearly not a trained spy and it therefore made sense when she needed help.

And Bond? Perfect. I'm not sure Daniel Craig is ready for Shakespeare, but as Bond he performs mostly through looks and delievers one-liners without the icky aftertaste. Both in the movie and in Hollywood, he has to prove himself worthy of double-O status and he does. The coolest thing? He screws up. Big time. But we see why and we watch him work through how to fix the problem (wish we could see that in other parts of the newspaper). And, okay, the man is hot.

And as a Bond movie? Sure, there are sizable holes in the plot, but nothing like the last few Bond movies. Nothing out-of-control illogical. Just lots of fun.

Raindrops keep falling on my head

2006-12-08T09:58:00.000-06:00

If you saw me/talked to me/was near me on Wednesday night, I apologize. I had the beginning of a migraine that took me down for the rest of the evening and lingers still. I believe it started with a cheese stick, but I am still trying to figure out what I ate.

I was not warned that aging means your body suddenly, and without warning, reacts differently to situations/substances that are usual. I'm still missin' my lattes.

The only good thing about migraines is that they remind you how absolutely FANTASTIC it is to not have one.

In other news, I finally got to take down the large display table in my livingroom that has been there for 6 weeks. I moved Nuschler's gigantic pillow back to it's normal spot in front of the window. He's a happy, happy puppy.

Snow is falling, snow on snow

2006-12-05T18:43:00.000-06:00

While sliding around the sloppy Duluth roads this afternoon, I listened to Sarah McL's new Christmas cd. Once my tree is up, I'll be spending a lot of time with that music, enjoying the pretty lights.

Due to mucky roads, my evening cleared. So I put on the mulitple layers and shoveled. Nuschler would bark at me and I would chase him with a shovel of snow to dump on him. Once everything was clear, I let him loose to run around the yard. After a few laps around the garden, I caught my breath under a bare tree and looked at the deep purple sky.

I'll be singing a different tune in February, but for now it's snow, glorious snow!

Hanging around

2006-12-02T15:26:00.000-06:00

Last night, Punky was called out for an emergency computer fix up north. He got back this afternoon and is now passed out with the puppy. Thus, I am trying to be quiet.

I'm no good at being quiet.

I can think of a million things I would like to get accomplished today, but most of them involve a flurry of activity around the house (not quiet) or throwing in a movie and putting things together (equally not quiet). You forget the little noises of life. The microwave, the floorboards, doors, the swish of your pants as you walk. All very noisy.

So I'm relaxing and breathing. Quietly.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

2006-11-29T16:34:00.000-06:00

"Are you ready for Christmas?"

I'm getting this question a lot at the moment. I have been pointing out that it is not yet December and, thus, much too early to be done or, in my case, even started. The next person to ask is going to get this answer: Why, yes I am. I did all my decorating, baking, cooking and cleaning yesterday. I did all my shopping, wrapping, letter writing, card mailing and caroling today. Now I'm off to use my amazing skills to solve world problems.

No sweat.

In years past I have prided myself on being done with shopping early, but I think I will try to enjoy the process more this year. I also used to worry about getting people the perfect gift. I'm not going to sweat it this year. With three sets of family to spend time with, we are always running for the holidays. Every year I tweak it to make it feel calmer, simpler. I'm slowly accepting that it will never be calm or simple.

We are now entering the roller coaster ride that is Christmas. Enjoy!

Cry me a river

2006-11-26T23:41:00.000-06:00

I sit here writing to you after three Thanksgivings, a birthday, a little cold and early-stage PMS to declare: Man, am I tired. I will do my best to put sentences together, so bear with me.

I just finished watching the latest Hollmork movie. Punky does not understand why I would subject myself to that level of heart-wrenching torture. I call it the emotional purge. If I don't watch a weep-fest once every month or so, crying endlessly over the death of a fictitious person, I end up crying for twenty minutes over something like, "Why didn't I marry someone who would have left the last of the ice cream for me?"

The HM movies are really sad enough by themselves, but then you get to the commercials. HM is one of the few companies who understand that if a commercial is the same speed, volume, and look as the program they break into, people like me will probably watch it. And, in the case of HM, weep harder. The retiring professor, the kid who brings a card to his neighbor lady, the daughter who sends a card to her dad because it's the first year she can't come home for Christmas (She's probably at her in-laws dodging questions like I do).

The father-daughter ones get me in the worst ways. I'm tearing up right now. In college, dad sent a letter every week to each of his children as a way to pay back his father for writing to him. I always waited to read them in private so I wouldn't be crying in chem class. Once, he enclosed a tissue to be funny.

Happy weeping!

Thankful, grateful, blessed.

2006-11-23T09:22:00.000-06:00

So thankful for:

-Over the top parades on tv
-An abundance of yummy foods
-The ability to help put together ten baskets full of yummy, Thanksgiving food for local families that otherwise wouldn't have a big meal today
-My Grandmother's Swedish Rye Bread recipe and my ability to make it in a bread machine
-Punky
-Family
-Friends
-Nuschler
-The freedom not to go malling (mauling) tomorrow morning

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

All we are saying is give peace a chance

2006-11-22T08:32:00.000-06:00

Last night was the Thanksgiving service which was located this year at the local synagogue. It was my first time there, so I had a ton of questions: What's that? Is that a door? Where does it go? What are those? What do all those symbols mean? I'm a grown up five-year-old.

In order to do the safe thing and get a ride to my car, I jumped into a conversation my friends were having with a very nice Jewish man who was explaining some of the items and symbols around the room. Finally I got some answers.

Then this man expressed his sadness that more people from the Islamic community did not come to the event. He suggested that they were perhaps embarrassed about some incident of people praying on a plane. I had missed seeing this story, but had to guess that that wasn't the reason.

Please, dear reader, tell me if you think I am misunderstanding this, but I would think that the fear of judgment and hatred would be more the reason the Islamic community would avoid the Temple. I personally avoid several churches for that exact reason.

So I said nothing, but left irate. I should have just walked to my car, as any mugger would have been toast. But no. I would have liked to suggest to this man that he rethink all he had just said. That he would speak and act in compassion as a representative from his own faith.

Tomorrow I will make a list of happy thanksgivings, but today I only have these: I am thankful that, while I am embarrassed by what some of the top Methodists say and do, I am not fearful of losing my life for my faith. I am thankful that I do not know war. I am thankful that neither my husband nor my brother know war. I am thankful I can now take Nuschler for a walk and laugh my aggression away at the expense of my silly dog.

Storms are forever in your eyes

2006-11-20T18:09:00.000-06:00

You may recognize the above lyric from the Starship song "Sara". I just saw it on a VH1 special about bad break-up songs. They said that essentially no one likes this song unless you are named Sara.

I love the song just cuz they spell it correctly.

In high school, a boy in my homeroom named Eric would serenade me with this song whenever I was at my locker at the same time as him. It wasn't a romantic thing: For the four years of high school I dated for exactly two months so I was more than available. I have this theory that I'm just someone to sing to.

But, does the song fit? Storms in my eyes? Check. Fire and ice? I'm a Scorpio. Odds are good that, if I'm not giddy or irate, I'm tired. No time is a good time for goodbyes?

Too true.

We are so fragile

2006-11-16T22:39:00.000-06:00

Women are always looking for the perfect something, be it the perfect shoes, purse, earrings, men. The hunt is always on.

For me, I am always looking for jewelry and office supplies. Seeking perfection every time.

Today, my new datebook arrived. This is my yearly opportunity to reorganize that which holds my life together and gets me to where I need to be at the (approximately) right time. I can omit names and numbers that I don't use anymore or no longer work. I can shuffle in the new names and numbers that I now use all the time. And let go of those lost.

There's a lot of hope and faith in cracking open a new calendar. I love it...

Silent all these years

2006-11-15T23:22:00.000-06:00

Warning: This blog contains a rant about Gilmore Girls. And maybe some spoilers.

Midway through last night's Gilmore Girls, I got this odd feeling in my stomach. Watching Chris and Lorelai finally get together in Paris, having a romantic dinner at 6am, enjoying a fluffy, down bed, well, it just made me want to...

Puke.

Am I merely uncomfortable with public displays of affection? This is very true. Is it sad dialogue that makes these grown people into a one-dimensional, puppy-love couple? Is it that I really can't stand Christopher because, in the end, he is not a rock? He's a pile of rich sand. I'm not even sure I like Luke anymore. Is there a third option?

I believe in shows ending before getting to this point. I believe in new shows lasting long enough to find a stride. Which reminds me: Why aren't you watching Studio 60?

How much is that doggie in the window?

2006-11-15T00:05:00.000-06:00

The snow is melting. We will hope that global warming lets us have a little more before the end of the winter, but who really knows?

Nuschler and I went to the field again. I forgot how fun it is to play with puppy in the snow. There's less stuff for him to eat/smell/roll around in. I tried the roll-down-the-hill trick again. Again he tried to stop me with his paws. Then I slid down the hill on my butt. He tried to stand on my lap to get me to stop. Protection in the form of mauling. He's so sweet. And heavy.

I understand that there are people who take their dogs on civilized walks. The dog is on a leash, walking in a straight line, not needing to smell everything or everyone. This didn't work for us. I was the crazy lady in the middle of the street screaming at a golden retriever.

Now I'm the crazy lady in the middle of a field laughing with her miniature pony. I don't know which way looks worse, I just know I'm crazy.

You say it's your birthday. It's my birthday too, yeah.

2006-11-13T23:01:00.000-06:00

Lovely things on my 31st birthday.

1. It snowed last night, a thick blanket of winter. I took Nuschler to the field to frolic. We had a fabulous time. As I rolled down the hill, he panicked and tried to stop me. Hilarity ensued.

2. Saw "Stranger Than Fiction" and was reminded what great movies look like.

3. Got ecards from friends, got to hang out with family, got to cuddle with the Punk.

4. Counted my blessings. Say a little prayer for the next year. Release a few wishes into the wind. Light a candle for hope. Breathe.

It's a small world after all

2006-11-12T20:48:00.000-06:00

You are here for the truth so here it is: Tomorrow is my birthday. I'm actually looking forward to an end to this past year and the beginning of a new chapter. The fairy tale of a fresh start.

At church this morning, someone asked me when I graduated from high school and was sad to realize that I was older than her daughter. Too old. There's a cut-off for hip (among church goers) and I didn't make it.

Then, I was reading an article online from Entertainment Weekly about Grey's Anatomy. The writer talked about his sister from Minneapolis, who happens to be a nurse, ruining the episode with her dose of reality. In that way that we all pretend we know all people from Minnesota, I looked again at the writer's name.

Seriously, what are the odds that this writer went to high school with me, hung out with some of my friends, was equally annoyed with my ex-boyfriend (probably not for the same reasons)? Slim chance and yet true.

In my ever-lasting need to be a nerdy researcher, I went back to my yearbook to verify. Not only did I sorta know this writer, but the daughter from the lady at church wrote in my yearbook. If I was cool enough for her to hang out with then, then I am really cool enough to hang out with now. At this point, I know how to use a comb, I wear contacts or very cool glasses and I no longer do math just for fun.

Oh, who am I kidding...

Everything old is new again

2006-11-12T15:48:00.000-06:00

I cleaned out my linen closet yesterday, along with my behind-mirror shelves and the drawers in the bathroom. I chucked things with reckless abandon. Thanks to entropy (the world tending towards chaos naturally), it will be a mess again in no time, but I only need one moment of organized joy.

Before I moved out of my grad school apartment, I had Bec help me clean out my closet. She would hold clothing up and I would say yes, no or I would cover my eyes while she tucked it into the donation bag. I need to approach my office and closet with this same attitude: The real estate is more valuable than the junk.

Up next? The emotional closet. Oh boy...

These are the days

2006-11-11T12:08:00.000-06:00

Here are my random thoughts:

You can adopt a highway (volunteer to clean up after illegal slobs), so why not adopt a closet? Come to my house and clean up my linen closet. There's plenty of trash in there...
We elect seedy people to run our country/state/city/company and then pay them WAY too much to do so. Perhaps we should pay them less and demand more decent humans to go into politics/business.
Boys are dumb. I look at the way men are portrayed on tv and wonder if they are just dumb on television. Then a real man comes along and proves that dumb is not only for the fake. While Punky is mostly very smart, we do take turns having "dumb as dirt" moments.
I'm watching a Star Wars marathon on tv at the moment. So lovely.
I have a lot to do today, which means all I want to do is take apart my house and reorganize. Starting with the linen closet...

I certainly haven't been shopping for any new shoes and...

2006-11-08T21:12:00.000-06:00

Today, I went on the hunt for dress pants. I found the perfect pair, but they were a little tight in one size and way too big in the next size up. (The problem is that I have no hips. I have thighs a-plenty -don't get me wrong- just no hips. I was built for heavy farm work.)

The dressing room girl said "Those don't look so bad."

Excuse me? I'm not looking for not so bad pants. I want FABULOUS pants. I want "Hey, check out that fine woman" pants. I want "Have you lost some weight?" pants. Unless they are virtually free and easy to tailor, I don't want your "not so bad" pants.

Goodness.

Ode to Anderson Road

2006-11-07T13:29:00.000-06:00

Oh Anderson Road, how I have missed you!

Every time I pass your way,
I think to myself "Ah, one day
I'll drive on you again
And not have to see
All the cars and trucks
That drive near Trinity"

You've been blocked off, dug out
Piped up and smoothed out.

And now, today, I was finally told
That I was free to drive on Anderson Road.

Meow, Meow, Meow, Meow...

2006-11-07T09:50:00.000-06:00

I lost a few hours yesterday having an extreme allergic reaction. I was at a friend's, playing with her cat. I came home and took out my contacts. I thought I had washed my hand well enough, but no. Instead my eyes went totally red.

I took off my eye make-up, but the burning continued. Having no eye drops in the house, nothing to wash it out with but water, I got an idea: Milk.

Milk is supposedly good for counter-acting allergic reactions. But should it go in your eyes? I had a few minutes of debate. Do I try to stop the burning and maybe have to explain to a doctor how I put milk in my eye or do I wash with water?

Milk it was. The burning stopped immediately, but the redness took a few hours to go away.

I know a lot of people for whom milk causes a violent allergic reaction. While it is scary how careful these people have to be, it is also scary as to why allergies are so prevalent.

Bottom line? As much as I would love for Nuschler to have an equally fluffy cat companion, it ain't gonna happen.

I like to move it, move it

2006-11-04T22:08:00.000-06:00

I am tired. I worked and played hard today, so I have earned the right to call myself tired.

I reached my breaking point today, as I was running very late due to things outside my control. I wanted to cry, scream, pitch a fit. Instead, I threw in some loud music in the car, starting laughing and dancing.

Shake it off.

I ended up having a fabulous evening with the Weird Sisters and laughed myself to a sore throat. And now I am going to bed excited about doing it all over again tomorrow...

May I have your attention please

2006-11-03T09:37:00.000-06:00

I love having theories, looking at the evidence and drawing a conclusion. And then, of course, being right. That part's fun too.

In college, I had a theory that I am dyslexic. In order to be tested (and then get more time on tests, etc) I would have had to pay $1000. Being a poor college student, I just couldn't justify it. I worked around it and now laugh at myself when I get confused.

I also have a theory that I am slightly autistic. Not a lot, just a very little. My parents gave me every opportunity to learn social skills, but I'm still blunt, I laugh at the wrong things. I think shaking hands is one of the strangest ways two people can connect. It's nice to meet you! Here, have all my germs!

In the past year I have considered the idea that I am ADD. I don't really like this diagnosis. For me (and I mean this just for me, so don't get bent out of shape about your own ADD loved ones), it's about getting bored. I am known as the girl who writes everything down. It's the only way I can pay attention (and remember it, to be perfectly honest).

Why am I telling you all of this? There are only three shows that I will record and then sit down to watch. Recently, all three have bored me. I pause to see how much more I have to sit through. I will give some of the blame to new writers, transitional plot lines, clunky dialogue and the fact that I can't stand Christopher on GG (Run Lorelei, Run!), but mostly I'm bored.

Sigh.

Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea

2006-10-31T19:28:00.000-06:00

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

2006-10-30T21:25:00.000-06:00

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

2006-10-29T00:38:00.000-05:00

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?

2006-10-27T17:22:00.000-05:00

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

2006-10-26T21:33:00.000-05:00

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

2006-10-26T14:55:00.000-05:00

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

2006-10-24T10:08:00.000-05:00

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

2006-10-22T23:14:00.000-05:00

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

2006-10-21T22:05:00.000-05:00

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

2006-10-20T20:04:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-10-19T00:08:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-10-17T23:41:00.000-05:00

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

2006-10-16T10:41:00.000-05:00

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

2006-10-13T23:21:00.000-05:00

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

2006-10-11T09:41:00.000-05:00

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

2006-10-04T22:38:00.000-05:00

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

2006-10-03T11:19:00.000-05:00

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?

This is a song for the lonely.

2006-09-29T00:50:00.000-05:00

OK, I realize that I normally don't post twice in only a few hours, but this was too good to wait.

Something is going on with Cher.

According to the nice article, she is selling some clothes and furniture and donating some proceeds to her own charity. She hopes to raise a million dollars. You can see the auction online. All 16 pages of it. Lots of clothes, furniture -yes. Plus wigs, paintings, awards, jewelry, books, shoes, a Hummer and a Ford truck from the movie "Moonstruck". Lots and lots of crucifixes.

When we average people want to clean out the closets and redecorate, we throw everything on the driveway on a Saturday morning and hope for a few hundred. Cher goes to Sotheby's and will probably get more than a mil. I can't handle ebay, but I think the above globe is awesome.

But here my question: Is this a cry for help, a profitable way to feng shui or a very lucrative moving sale?

Gotta give the woman props for always doing it big. Granted, if you gave her a prop, she would probably throw it in this auction...

Sometimes when I look deep in your eyes I swear I can see your soul

2006-09-28T20:31:00.000-05:00

Life would be much easier if I could read people the way I can read my dog.

Growling, but wagging his tail is play growling.

Growling without the wagging, you should step away slowly (this is rare to non-existent with Nuschler).

One or both upper lips tucked under is unhappy puppy.

Lounging in various poses that always allow for a mama visual, usually accompanied by profuse sighing is a pathetic cry for attention, preferably a walk.

If he greets me at the door in a panicked state, pacing and running away and back to me, he's been naughty. I either need to clean something up or buy new shoes.

And, of course, if he is sitting perfectly with his ears in that cute way, he's waiting for a treat.

Homo sapiens being much more complex than your average canine, the signs are not as obvious. Alas.

As I am writing this, there is now a toy and a puppy head in my lap. You have one guess to what that means...

Oh, I also had lunch today with two friends. One of us has a house and a job, but wants a baby. Another has a house, a business, but wants a job and, in good time, a baby. The third has the baby, but needs a house and a job. Combined, we make one perfectly content person.

How far is too far, how far is all the way?

2006-09-24T22:34:00.000-05:00

This song is from the brilliant musical Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up?, which was the first production I was a part of in high school. It has nuns on rollarskates. Too funny.

Has the world gone too far with being politically correct? Are we not supposed to have opinions?

My mom and Bec have been obsessed with the show House since early summer. I just started the first season (on DVD, which is both convenient and dangerous) and I have to say I LOVE IT. This brilliant doctor is called a bastard on every other episode (I'll keep better track for the sake of accuracy on that), but there is a beauty to his crotchety nature. He's not trying to be anyone but himself. Sure, he could be nicer. But why have we put so much worth on "nice"?

My question is this: Are we spending too much time apologizing for being ourselves and having our own opinions? Is this a Gen X thing? Or am I going mad alone?

..the moon was so beautiful that the ocean held up a mirror.

2006-09-22T07:15:00.000-05:00

I'm up early today. I'm not a morning person. I leave that for those with natural, post-sleep energy.

I'm up because Punky stepped into something slimy after his shower. He alerted me to the slime and then showered off his foot. As I was cleaning the slime, using the intestinal fortitude I do not possess to not add to the slime, he stepped in another pile and then showered off his foot again.

Puppy does not feel well and I slept too soundly to help him. Now he's under observation and I'm a little green.

Wahoo for puppy-parenting.

On a clear day, stop and look around you...

2006-09-21T14:01:00.000-05:00

I took a walk in the woods this morning. I needed to escape from distractions and clear my head. Nuschler needed to run, smell, poo and work out his energetic anxieties. With sunshine, a cool breeze and beautiful trees colored in orange, yellow, red and green, it was perfect.

I have been thinking about this question: Are you a perpetual people pleaser or a disciplined decision maker?

The goal is to make good decisions that make the key people happy. The older I get, the more I realize how difficult it is to see the good decision and pick the key people. So I take the people pleaser path, become miserable and start demanding that people please me, which gets me in trouble.

In the woods, I remembered my blessings. I remembered grace and joy and worth.

And I picked a few leaves for my mom. If I can't please her in big ways, I can try with the little ones.