Just Give Me a Minute

A while back, I wrote a post about balance and how I wanted it, and how I needed to work at finding it in my life. Well, in the five months since that post, not much has changed. I still have a frenetic work pace, am still making it through what seem to be never-ending training cycles, and there's still a sometimes-surly teenager doing her best to test my patience and drain my pocketbook.

Lest you think I'm turning into a bitter shrew of a divorcee, I'll point you to this post about what's great about my life these days. Although that post was written over a year ago, I'm standing by that list- it's all good.

But my personal evolution is not all sunshine and rainbows; I have my moments where dark, nasty, charcoal-colored clouds invade my space and linger beyond what's comfortable or productive. It's at times like that when I come up with items on the following list. Indulge, if you will, my momentary Pity Party:

Things I Miss About My Old Life (Even If I Only Tried to Wish Some of Them Into Existence, or If They Were There They Were Only Mostly Meh)

1. My turntable and veranda. And someone to playfully complain about my music selections, and the cackles of laughter carrying across the neighborhood. I miss summer nights watching people walk by and catching snippets of their conversations while I sat silently on the veranda, pretending to read or sleep.

2. The weight of another person- the weight of their presence, even- next to my body. I miss the physicality of someone else while leaning into each other, or standing at the coffee counter, or while reading the jacket of a book, or paging through a Crate & Barrel catalog- those small gestures that say "I like you near me."

3. Someone to argue and make up with; a good conversationalist, even if the conversation is full of total bullshit, makes life that much better.

4. A shoulder or a lap to fall asleep on while watching television, plus couch cuddle time.

5. My good dishes and cookware from Williams-Sonoma.

6. And while we're at it, I miss the kitchen I helped design; from the stainless steel appliances, to the concrete counter tops, to the reclaimed wood floors, to the lighting fixtures from Pottery Barn, to the crocks holding utensils, to the sunny spot where I'd drink my coffee each morning.

7. And furthermore...I miss someone else making the coffee each morning.

8. Hearing someone say "I'm happy you're here with me." (That one falls into the "wishful thinking" category.)

9. Someone to dress up and show off. Listen, as a former art student/current fashion slave, I absolutely lovelovelove using humans as my very own dolls. Just trust me, I know what you should be wearing and why.

10. S. E. X.  (You didn't think that was going to be omitted from the list just because my mother reads my blog, did you?!)

I've always been pretty positive (okay, but with a sarcastic side, too), and have used other's words to help me remain focused on the Good in Life. Just like that picture up top tells me, things will just keep getting better as long as I don't get bitter.

Pass the sugar  :)

In Like a Lion...

You know, I've really been struggling these past few weeks, months to come to terms with well, everything, and when I really sat and thought about my emotions and all the happenings of my day-to-day, I realized that it might not be me; it might be the weather.

Many people suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder, and while I don't think I'm immune- I thrive on sunny days, despise the cold and gloom and weight of winter days- I certainly don't think I'm a candidate for therapeutic relief in the form of medication. No, I can usually talk myself out of a slump. Loft House cookies help.

Looking back further than recent months, I can say with certainty that this feeling I've had (and even posted about it ) comes with this anonymous in-between season we have here in the Midwest. Winter is still holding on via last-gasp snowstorms and early morning frost on car windows, and yet Spring is still hibernating, teasing with fantastically bright sunshine on 19 degree days. Aren't we like Spring, then? All we really want to do is stay snuggled in our beds a little longer. But my impatience gets the best of me, and I can be embarrassingly unbearable. So short is my fuse that I feel like I should have a rotating wardrobe of t-shirts with things like "Just DON'T" and "What the fuck is your point?" Bedazzled on them.

Anyway, I thought about how to best describe my emotional state this time of year (besides "laaaazzzzyyyy" and "potty mouthed"): wistful, meditative, pensive, contemplative, eager. Some of these connote sadness, and I guess I'm never sure what exactly I'm sad about; the words just seem to fit. And when I feel this way, I listen to certain types of music. "The Soundtrack of My Life," I like to call it, because I see the days of my life unfolding like a scene from a movie, and these are the songs I imagine playing in the theater should anyone else be privy to the show. In no particular order:

1. "Long Ride Home" by Patty Griffin (This is quite possibly the saddest song I know. I can't not cry when I hear it.)

2. "Everybody Knows" by Ryan Adams and The Cardinals (Another unsung American singer/songwriter. Listen to the CD "Easy Tiger.")

3. "Chicago" by Sufjan Stevens (This one always brings me back to its eponymous source, with memories of riding the El, marveling at the city.)

4. "One of These Things First" by Nick Drake ("A whole long lifetime could've been the end...")

5. "The Only Living Boy in New York" by Simon & Garfunkel (This reminds me of simpler days, and always ALWAYS of my dad. *love*)

6. "Say Hello Wave Goodbye" by David Gray (This version is hauntingly beautiful; yes, I know it was originally a New Wave pop B-side for the British band Soft Cell.)

7. "The Time of Times" by Badly Drawn Boy (I firmly believe that every movie soundtrack would be better with a song from Badly Drawn Boy.)

8. "Are You Alright?" by Lucinda Williams (It was difficult to pick just one song from Lucinda, but this one fits the list's vibe.)

9. "This Too Shall Pass" by OK Go (The link will take you to a super awesome marching band version of the song. For another version with a cool Rube Goldberg machine, go here.)

10. "Sons & Daughters" by The Decemberists (A bit melancholy, yet hopeful in the end: "Hear all the bombs fade away.")

And that's how I'll leave you today: hopeful. Because we all know the second half of this post's title...

I Feel A Whole Lot Better...

Dang, I love that song!

And better yet, I do feel a whole lot better since my last post. So much has my outlook improved that I've decided to write a top 10 list about it. So, without further ado, here is my list of things I've realized I like best about my new life:

1. Grocery shopping is a breeze. I've never minded household chores, and when my kids were younger, the grocery store offered a respite from Being Mommy. But now I feel even less encumbered: my kids are old enough (and I like them enough) that I don't need to escape from Being Mommy. Plus, the grocery cart no longer contains items like horseradish, pickles, and copious amounts of meat.

2. My cute little dollhouse is clean, all the time. I have a postcard that hangs in a clear, acrylic photo frame that I brought with me to my new house:

Its a dream that I seriously had about, oh...everyDAY in my old house. That old house (literally, an old house) was never clean, even when I spent all day cleaning to the point of making my hands raw from bleach and scouring pads. No longer a dream, friends.

3. Everything smells good. Is that funny? Like strange funny, not haha funny? Ever since Daughter #2 was born, my sense of smell can be likened to a super power. Did you have onions for lunch? Yesterday? I just knew it. Absent of men and pets and meat and dirt and cigarettes and alcohol (and, cigarettes mixed with alcohol- think of the ickiest dive bar ever. That is how my old house could smell sometimes.), houses are lovely things. I find that I don't need to burn fancy candles or buy Febreeze in institutional strength gallon-size jugs anymore.

4. Pets are a thing of the past. Growing up, my parents had children, not pets (although, we could have a lively discussion on whether or not the children were substitutes for pets? Another time, perhaps). We didn't have dogs or cats or fish or birds, save for the early years of less than five kids. My parents may have liked the chaos of a large family, but adding an animal to the mix was just taking things too far. I've never been fond of animals, either. I've never felt the need to nurture something that won't eventually grow up and move away. Plus, I don't enjoy cleaning up shit. (Side note: I've always been fascinated by the cats who use the toilet- and flush it!-rather than a litter box.)

5. I don't have to be cheap when it comes to coffee. I used to wander the grocery aisles, giving those small bags of Starbucks coffee a sideways glance as I reached for the monster bag of Eight O'Clock coffee I would take home. Who actually buys that? What kind of person spends so much on coffee beans? A rich person. Someone whose closest Starbucks is on the next corner, not 70 miles away, I'll bet. Yes, it was a bit of jealousy. But now that I'm only buying coffee for one, you bet your bippy I buy the good stuff, and its worth every penny. Plus, that little bag lasts me almost two weeks! And, there's the added bonus of never being faced with an empty pot when I finally get around to pouring my second cup; the pot is always just as full as when I poured the first cup.

6. "There is a place for everything, and everything should be in it's place." If I've heard this once during my lifetime, I've heard it a kajillion times. It was my mother's mantra on Saturday mornings as her small army of children would clean the house top to bottom before either receiving weekly allowances or being allowed to go anywhere or do anything. I, too, have adopted this mantra. The difference now is that I say it with an assured amount of smugness, because I know that no one has misplaced anything. Also along the mantra-from-my-mother lines, I no longer have to say "I guess if I want something done right, I have to do it myself." Oh, yes. That phrase came out of my mouth. Often. Now the only person I can rightfully say that to is myself.

7. I can smell good or bad. Like, my personal scent, not the aforementioned sense of smell. Sometimes, as my running friends will tell you, I have been known to run for 13 miles or more, drink beergaritas, and then head to the grocery store. Unshowered and still in my running clothes. Gross, I know; but taking a shower is something I'll do when I'm ready to relax, thankyouverymuch. And how can I relax when there's so much to do? I've been known to spritz on body spray before venturing out on errands, though, so I'm not a complete boor. My daily dressing routine involves actual perfume, though, and the scents I'm drawn to were not always appreciated in my former life. I have been hoarding a small, travel-size atomizer of one of my favorite scents- "Earth" by Gap - for years. I love it. It is no longer made, and the last time a 4 oz. bottle came up on eBay , it went for almost $300. In my former life, *someone* would complain about the scent, "It smells like soap." Um...and?! I certainly don't want to smell like baked goods or my grandmother. I no longer worry about pleasing someone else with my perfume choices. Or my hair, makeup, shoes, or clothing choices, for that matter. I look and smell pretty for me. And so my friends aren't embarrassed when we go out in public.

8. And speaking of exercise...I no longer endure eye-rolling and snarky comments muttered through disgusted sighs as I mention that I'm going for a run. Or going to work out. Or going for a bike ride. Or doing something, anything that could be considered exercise. I love that that is no longer a part of my life. I can't believe I allowed someone to make me feel guilty for indulging in activities that: one, keep me healthy; two, keep me trim; and three, keep me from going crazy.

9. I get the whole bed to myself. Let me explain: I enjoy cuddle time, sure, and I also like that sometimes cuddle time turns into *bow chicka wah wah*. But when it comes to sleeping, I would appreciate it if you could stay the fuck away from me. Its nothing personal. As with many things in our adult lives, we can trace origins back to our childhoods. This quirk is no exception. With nine children and two adults in one house, economy was key to sleeping quarters. And so, I shared a full-sized bed with a sibling until I entered high school. Then I got to switch to a solo twin, and it was totally rad. As I moved around for college and found a mate, sleeping together was just the thing to do. Every minute I spend with you is the best minute ever. *GAAAAGGGG*. In addition to recoiling from anything to do with my childhood, some of my OCD tendencies have to do with bedtime: the bedsheets must be crisp, clean, and the bed made with hospital corners. The bed must be made every day. If you are in the bed before me, DO NOT "warm up" my side of the bed, as I will then be forced to dream about ways to bring great bodily harm upon you. Do not try to cuddle with me, or spoon; I am trying to sleep. And lastly, every day that I wake up in my brand new queen-sized bed, I can't help thinking of a song by Phish that goes: "When you're here, I sleep lengthwise, and when you're gone I sleep diagonal in my bed."

10. I love embracing the realization that the only problems I need to worry about are my own. Other people's problems are NOT. MY. PROBLEMS. Through the magic of Facebook , I reconnected with a friend/boyfriend from high school a few years ago. We were both married and met for drinks when I was in his city for a work-related conference. We were talking about books that had changed our lives, and I suggested to him The Pecking Order by Dalton Conley , and he in turn recommended Codependent No More by Melody Beattie . Can you say eye opener? He was, at the time, going through a divorce, and shortly thereafter got a new girlfriend and stopped using Facebook. I haven't been able to meet up with him again to thank him. When we do meet up again, you can be sure that I will thank him, though, profusely.

Too often we let negativity and unfortunate circumstances bring us down, and its so unhealthy. I guess the reasoning behind this post is to remember to focus on the good. And smile, friends- the weekend is here! Make it a great one.

My Strange Relationship with Food, Part II

My last post was all about the foods I dislike. Indeed, I have banned them from the grocery list, and will not even consider partaking in dishes which contain said ingredients. I've never thought of myself as someone who holds a grudge, but by the same token, I guess I have a memory a mile long, so...

...onward to the foods I do like. Despite my desire for nutrition-in-pill-form, there are many things I love to eat. I am not usually a "gusher," I don't go on and on and on and on about things. Okay, maybe shoes. Or clothes. But food?! Not me.

Note: these are different from foods I crave, or foods that fall into another separate category entirely: SUGAR. My philosophy on that category can be best summed up thusly:

Now, without further ado, my list of foods that will always have a spot on the grocery list:

1) Apples- As I mentioned in my previous post, my mom would hide the apples she bought. I would eat them all to the point of...let's say...intestinal upset. Or so I'm told. But apples are so versatile! Depending on the variety, they can add sweetness or tartness to a dish. There's a depth they bring to savory dishes (like my favorite Moosewood Tart & Tangy Baked Beans), and their flavor in sweet baked goods...with cinnamon and nutmeg...YUM. Favorite varieties for straight-out eating? Gala or Golden Delicious.

2) Avocados- I was a late-comer to the avocado parade. My first experience with the green goddess was at a Christmas Eve celebration at my Grandma Gert's house. A cousin's girlfriend brought guacamole, and so I gave it a try. Her version, as I remember it, had sour cream and shredded cheddar in it. Eeewww! When I finally tried avocado properly- in real guacamole, in Mexico- it was instant love. How could I have missed this for so long? I love an avocado on a veggie burger, with TexMex dishes, with grilled fish, in salads. My friend My Jenny used to feed her babies avocado mashed with cream cheese for a snack. I'm told I make a mean guacamole, and maybe one day I'll share that recipe with you. Maybe.

3) Nectarines- Is there any better taste of Summer than a perfectly ripe, juicy nectarine? I think not. Save your breath in trying to tell me that its "just like a peach, but without the fuzzy skin." Puh-leeze! No comparison, in my book. That orange/amber hue of the flesh, the smooth skin, the sweet juices...the richness of the flavor reminds me of how completely satisfying the smell of a mock orange tree is. All-consuming. I'll stop now before this gets pornographic.

4) Greek yogurt- I've always been a fan of plain ol' yogurt. I like the neat new flavors they have nowadays: Key Lime, Coconut Cream, Banana, Dreamsicle. But the moment I tried Greek yogurt- what with its heavy, heavy silken texture and impossible creaminess- I bid a final adieu to those thinly flavored varieties. Even the Red Velvet Cake flavor.

5) Beans- I'm not talking green beans here, although I do like those. I'm talking what would be considered shell beans: kidney beans, black beans, Great Northern White beans, pinto beans. As a vegetarian (and a less than wealthy one, at that), they have proven to be an economical and tasty alternative protein form. The aforementioned baked beans were a turning point for me (Homemade baked beans? Instead of from a can with that blob of pork fat? Who knew they were so easy? Who knew they'd be so delish?!). I also use them in salads and that Thrifty Girl's stand-by: Empty Out The Fridge Casserole.

6) Onions- Flavor flavor flavor flavor flavor! A staple for so many reasons. I even prefer it to garlic. That is all.

7) Salmon- As I mentioned in my last post, I have only started to incorporate fish into my diet in the past few years. I grew up with those rectangular frozen fish sticks like everyone else. And being raised Catholic, I had to endure my share of Lenten Friday Night Fish Dishes. My father is a die hard fisherman, and would often bring home buckets and buckets of blue gill and crappies. I never enjoyed fish in my childhood. Gah-rosss-ah! But as an adult, I found that I missed the satiety meat brought to a meal, yet couldn't eat farm animals (my disgust of animals is another post altogether). So, fish it was. Salmon was what was in the freezer, and it was prepared simply for me: olive oil, salt, black pepper, fresh dill, lemon slices. Foil packet on the grill. Its still my favorite way to prepare it. I have also come to appreciate such fish as tilapia, grouper, and tuna. Mmmm...sushi.

8) Cheese pizza- While technically more of a dish rather than a food, it is still a staple in my grocery cart. Tomatoes in a form I can handle? Check. Cheese in a variety I can handle? Check. Warm bread? Check. Its a food ingredient hat trick, and when you take the frozen variety, add a bit more shredded cheese, and bake it until its bubbly and golden? That's comfort food, right there.

9) Lay's Original Potato Chips- "No one can eat just one." One of the reasons I run and exercise as much as I do. No ripples, no flavors. Just greasy, salty goodness.

10) Loft House Frosted Sugar Cookies- These are my nemesis. They are also my salvation. And coupled with #9, why I run as much as I do. They are what I have referred to in the past as the Chupacabra of Baked Goods. They are Evil. They are Heavenly. Chemically soft cookies with not a single browned edge topped with Keep-Your-Dentist-In-Business frosting. And sprinkles. I prefer the pink frosting to any other color, and come Christmas time, the Candy Cane ones have an honored spot on my counter top.

Needless to say, if I didn't practice self-restraint, I'd eat only Lay's and Loft House cookies, washed down with a room-temperature Coca-Cola Classic (Not diet Coke. Ever.), read fashion magazines, stalk people on facebook, and have an ass the size of Montana. Thank you, 8 lb. 6 oz. Baby Jesus for giving me a rational, practical brain.

Next post? A love letter to all things sugar.