My Date With Myself

It seems like my posts on this blog have been few and far between, and a little sad, in terms of subject matter.  Thus, I shall write about something entirely frivolous and trivial.  Today is Friday, and most of my Fridays during the summer are glorious, because they are days when I get off work early.  We have this wondrous thing called summer flex scheduling, and it allows us to take half the day off on Fridays without much sacrifice.

Unlike most Fridays of this sort, this time, I really was at loose ends.  Michael is at a conference, so our usual standing date on such days could not take place.  So....I took myself on a date. 

The date began with completion of a favor for Michael: an Amiibo quest. I began the search at Best Buy, then continued to Target, and finally made my way over to Walmart, where it was partially fulfilled:

 

I headed over to Toys R Us to see if they had the other Amiibo that Michael requested, and was pleasantly surprised when the guy working in the video game section immediately noticed that I was lurking in the Amiibo section and asked me, "Are you looking for the new stuff?" I indicated that I was on a mission from my husband to find the Ness Amiibo (I made sure to mention my husband: I didn't want the guy to be so overcome by my striking good looks in my baggy ECU t-shirt and my new Vans that he asked me for a date, making it awkward for all involved).  He said that he hadn't got any in, but to check back because he thought the shipment had been split.  It had all the charm of our interactions with our comic book guy back in Tallahassee--that guy always watched out for what types of things we bought and recommended new stuff when it came in.  So much better than the very generic, "Can I help you find something?" 

  By this time, I was hungry, so I took myself to Which Wich?, which I'd been meaning to try for a while.

  I liked it pretty well--the ordering system makes it easy to get exactly what you want, and I liked the texture of the bread.

With my belly full (overfull, actually), I decided it was time to go shopping.  One thing of note: it is never a good idea to go swimsuit shopping after eating lunch. Ever. Lucky for me, I was able to turn my attention to other things. You see, ever since I saw the trailer for the second season of True Detective, I wanted a pair of gray jeans. Here's why:

Rachel McAdams reminded me that gray jeans are smokin' hotttt. So, when I stumbled upon a pair in my size on a clearance rack at Kohl's, I took it as a sign that I was yet another Rachel destined to look hotttt in a pair of gray jeans. Take a look at that price, people (and at the super cute t-shirt I picked up there, as well):

 Here's hoping the hotness doesn't stem more from the shoulder holster and bulletproof vest. The deals didn't stop there.  I went to a local thrift store and picked up several other items:

 

That dress makes me really happy, because it is a lovely cut and color--but I'm not entirely sold on those pink rhinestones.  I might change them out for something a little less...ostentatious.  We'll see. 

Finally, I picked up my lovely child from daycare and argued with her about what day it is.  In my child's world, the current day ends when she is picked up from daycare.  At that point, it immediately becomes the next day.  Thus, she will ask, "Is today a daycare day?" and what she actually means is "Do I have to go to daycare tomorrow?" We try to clarify this, but so far without much success.  She maintains that she is a "daypusher" (her term)--that she has the ability to push the day into the next (apparently just by existing? I haven't been able to get her to commit to a real explanation of how that works yet).  

What a lovely day.  I was a fantastic date.

 

Granny

My granny was recently diagnosed with stage 4 bone cancer, and upon leaving the hospital today, was enrolled in hospice care.

My mother started breaking the news to me on Thursday night, and provided a few more details last night.  It takes a while for things to set in for me, and my sorrow has truly manifested itself today, breaking in these intense waves of sorrow and grief throughout the day.  My reaction to news like this is odd, but predictable.  At first, I take it in stride, and I think to myself, "Wow, you're taking this really well."  I find out how wrong I was to think I was handling it well when the information really burrows into my mind, and the ramifications start galloping to the forefront of my thoughts.  

Enough about me.  Or at least...enough about my grief.  Let me tell you why I'm so grieved.  I believe that from the time I was in the third grade on up to the time I moved in with Michael, I saw my granny just about every day.  She was a part of my daily life, routine, and thoughts, almost as much as my own mother.  We lived so close to her, for so much of my life.

 I will readily admit that my granny is not a perfect being, but I think this makes her even better.  My granny is best described as a "character".  She has more in common with Scarlett O'Hara than should render her likeable--and yet I still adore her.  She can be impatient, and sometimes says cruel things.  Her temper flares, often.  She is a smidge vain, but it is difficult to fault her for it because she really is beautiful--it isn't her fault that she knows it. Some of my favorite memories are of watching her put on her makeup.  It was a process carried out with such precision, executed with the ruthless grace of an experienced surgeon.  She told me once that she had been coloring her hair (blonde, of course) and smoking since she was a very young teen (against her mother's wishes, of course). I always picture her as that girl--the one who wanted to grow up so fast, with blonde hair, stubbing out red lipstick-stained cigarette butts.

  
She picked my grandfather out to marry by spying on him from a hole in the wall in the girl's locker room, when he and a bunch of other boys went swimming for gym class (they swam naked, back the day).  "I said I wanted that one," she would tell me. She got him, and was it any wonder? She can be utterly charming, when so inclined.

As a grandmother, I admit that she does not always conform to societal standards.  From her mouth I have heard some truly inventive curses, and learned many words that would allow me to fit in with a construction crew.  But like some of the best grandmothers, she can cook.  Biscuits, fried chicken, chocolate pie, and a gravy so dark and rich that I coined it "motor oil gravy" were all things that I begged her to cook.  Best of all, however, is her ability to make each of her grandchildren feel special.  I can remember sitting on her lap and letting her rock me, even when I was too big for that sort of thing.  From time to time, she would take one of my hands in hers and run her fingers over the palm, exclaiming over how soft it was. She always  knew what to say to make me feel smart, beautiful, and above all, loved.

So many memories beg to be written as I think of her now, and yet many aren't distinct because they were just part of the daily routine. Like giving her a baleful stare through the storm door as she banished my cousin and I to the front porch in the summers, because "children should play outside--you're not gonna stay up under me all day!" Handing her blackberries with purple-stained fingers from the slings we'd made of our shirts, hoping we had finally gathered enough for her to make a cobbler.  Brushing her hair and giving her manicures and pedicures upon her suggestion that we "play spa".  Getting off the bus after school and sitting in her tiny kitchen, drinking coffee with her and eating cream cheese on crackers.  Stealing wedges of peeled potatoes, with my mother and aunts gathered in the kitchen while she was at the stove, and they planned out family get-togethers.  Listening to her talk about the Christmas ornaments that were special to her as we helped put up the tree. Hearing her coach every grandchild to reply to the question"Why are you so pretty?" with "Because I look like my granny." Watching her carefully as she cooked, so I could learn how to make the things she made with little effort (and no measuring, of course).


There's just so much, and it is hard to accept that she will be gone, soon.  Much like it is the case with my father, I grieve mostly for what Elizabeth will miss.  How will she understand who I am and how I ended up this way if she can't meet people who were clearly so influential--people who formed an important part of some of the best and worst times in my life?  I know and understand that it is the way of things, but it does not make accepting it any easier.  I can only hope that I can do justice to their memories, and that she'll get enough of a glimmer of what they were to me through those.  I know that I was really lucky, and I am thankful that there are so many memories that I can share.
 
I love you, Granny.  I will miss you more than I can ever express.  Thank you for being my granny. 

One Year

It's been a while since I've last posted--things have been incredibly busy.  I made sure to carve out some time to write a post today.  I won't be calling attention to this post on Facebook or anything like that, because if others haven't noticed, I don't want to upset anyone by reminding them of the significance of this date.

It's been one year since my father died.

This date has been looming large in my head for at least a week, maybe two.  It's so different from other times when I've lost people I love--some of my grandparents and friends.  I've never remembered those dates--I have a general sense of when it happened, but I never paid attention to the actual date.  For some reason, I can't forget this one.  In that way, I'm like so many other people.

Unlike a lot of people, however, in the course of this year, I never forgot that my father had died.  You know how people who have had similar losses say things like, "I'll think about how I need to buy a gift for him, and then I remember that he's gone and I can't," or "I almost called her up to tell her about this movie and then I remembered that she was gone"?  I never have that experience.  I never forget that he's gone.  I think it is because talking to my father was often a sort of, well, special occasion, really.  We didn't talk every day, or even every week.  It was something for which I planned: "I'll give Dad a call, and tell him about _______". 

Thus, I do not forget he is gone.  Instead, I think things like, "Dad would really have liked ________". 

When I celebrated Dad's birthday, I was surprised that it wasn't really a negative experience.  I was sad that I couldn't call him to wish him a happy birthday, and I missed him--but overall, celebrating his birthday was nice, comforting.  It turns out that the hardest time for me is around Father's Day.  I had to blink back tears as I looked for Father's Day cards for Michael (on behalf of Elizabeth).  I was wholly unprepared for that, because it had never been a very big holiday--nothing like Thanksgiving or Christmas--and nothing so personal as his birthday.  But the absence of a father on Father's Day reminds a child more of the primary role he played in his/her life--so it is a day that is almost as much about me as it is about him.  I can no longer participate in that day the way I once did, and it brought the reality of his death very much to the forefront of my mind.

I miss being able to tell him about Elizabeth.  I miss hearing him laugh over her antics and having him tell me how much I deserve her more troublesome behavior because of the trials I put him through when I was her age. 

I hope this day isn't hard for the others who were also close to him.  I'm not so sad that I can't enjoy things on this day, and for that I am thankful.  I almost didn't write anything about it, but I'd had these thoughts drumming through my head all week, and I couldn't let it go by without writing something. Sometimes writing really does feel like a way to de-clutter my mind.  If I don't write the thoughts, they just keep tumbling, ricocheting, forming and re-forming in different ways and combinations.  Now that these thoughts are written, they'll stay out.

For a year, at least.   

Happy Birthday, Dad

So, just a few days ago I would have called my dad to wish him a happy Thanksgiving, and today I would have called him to wish him a happy birthday.  This is the first year that I'm unable to do these things, since he passed away in September.  Today, he would have been fifty-three.

Dad with me, probably around 1986 or 1987

He died of cancer, and he died the morning that I was flying in to see him.  After battling steadily for two years, his final decline was very quick.  It probably isn't rational to believe that he deliberately died before I could see him--but it is what I believe.  When I first made plans to see him, my trip was to be a morale booster.  He was trying to get healthy enough to take part in the second recruitment round of a drug trial, and I wanted to see him to help raise his spirits.  I was bringing Elizabeth with me, because it's almost impossible to be sad around her.  Just one week before I was to see him, he became so weak he couldn't walk, and at that point he told others that he didn't want me to see him that way.  When he was told "too bad" and that I was coming to see him anyway, I think that he, in his normal, stubborn way, thought, "that's what they think."  I think he didn't hold on, because while I know he wanted to see me, he didn't want me to see him--not that way.  He didn't want me to remember him that way.

Dad with Elizabeth, Christmas 2011

 

 

At first, when it was all so fresh, I felt like it was selfish.  How dare he not consider my wish to see him one last time before he died? How could he do that to me?  He knew I was on the way.  On bad days, that is still the thought that flits through my head.  But on every other day, I know that what he did was one of the most unselfish things a parent can do for their child.  I know he wanted to see Elizabeth and me.  I know it.  But he wanted to protect me more, and spare me the pain of seeing my father in such a weakened state.

Dad walking me down the aisle in 2006

I want Elizabeth to know things about my dad, and I thought I could make sure that happens by starting a tradition of celebrating his birthday every year.  So, today I made one of his favorite cakes--Hummingbird Cake--and I hope to do this every year.  We'll set out a picture of him, and when she's older, maybe go through others.  I'll tell her stories about him, such as the fact that he liked to mess with my head when I was little.  I would tell him that I wanted to be a ballerina or something like that, and he'd respond by saying, "Well, when I was a little girl, I was the best ballerina in the class."

I miss him, but I feel comforted by doing something to celebrate him and his life each and every year.  Happy Birthday, Dad.  I hope you would have liked the cake.

  

Ta'veren Tuesdays: Casting Matrim Cauthon

Mat Cauthon is a really fun character in WoT.  At the beginning of the series, he is a scamp--a girl-crazy prankster who is always in trouble.  He always tries to take the easy way around any task, and doesn't like having to exert much effort for anything.  He strikes readers as extremely self-interested and somewhat lazy.  As the series progresses, the pranks give way to gambling, and he is a rogue who is always trying his luck with the ladies--and he does fairly well.  His aversion to effort seems to shift more to an aversion to trouble and dangerous situations--and who can really blame someone for that? In any case, we are told that he has a wiry build. He is tall, but not as tall as Rand, and I don't remember much about his hair or eye color--so it isn't really mentioned all that often.  Since he is from the Two Rivers, it is likely that his hair and eyes are some shade of brown. Given all this, here are my casting picks:

Joseph Gordon-Levitt

 I think Joseph Gordon-Levitt would emphasize the boyishness of Mat's character--women often treat him as if he still is a boy, even though he is the same age as Rand.  Other characters don't always take him seriously, likely due to his preoccupation with gambling, drinking, and flirting.

Tom Hiddleston

 Mat is said to have a charming smile, and Tom Hiddleston has a face that really comes to life when he smiles.  I think he could pull off the boyish charm (though in this picture, those creases around his eyes may give him away as too old to play Mat).  I think he would make an excellent Matrim Cauthon.

Aaron Taylor-Johnson

 

Aaron Taylor-Johnson is showing up in more and more movies these days, but most will be familiar with him from Kick-Ass.  He has a self-assured smile that I can easily imagine on Mat Cauthon's face.  He may be a bit too er...beefy...to really call "wiry"--but that's fine because if he isn't appropriate for Mat, he might do very well for Perrin Aybara.  We'll be considering casting picks for Perrin next week.  In the meantime, any suggestions for Mat Cauthon? 

Ta'veren Tuesdays: Casting Rand al'Thor

So, the first character to cast for the Wheel of Time series has to be Rand al'Thor.  When the series begins, I think he is around seventeen years of age (if memory serves).  He is described as tall, with red hair and gray eyes.  He isn't bulky, and the impression you get of him in the first few books is one of a lanky, gangly teenager.  As the series progresses, it becomes clear that he is considered attractive--though not uncommonly so.  I take this to be an indication that he is likely not classically handsome.  Rather, it may be that he has an interesting, compelling face.  Here are my casting picks for Rand al'Thor:

Cillian Murphy

 Though he may be getting a bit long in the tooth to actually be selected for the role (he is around 37 years of age at this time), he can pull off red hair and grey eyes, and his facial features are distinctive and compelling.  I also believe that as an actor, he could pull off Rand al'Thor's range of emotions.  Movie magic would have to make him seem taller than he actually is (he is 5'9'').

Eddie Redmayne

 

 I admit that I haven't watched much of Eddie Redmayne as an actor, though in the few things I have seen him in, he seems to give it his all.  He is yet another who could easily pull off the red hair, the gray eyes. He isn't all that tall (5'11'')--but movie magic could likely take care of that.  If he weren't picked for Rand, I could also see him in the role of Gawyn Trakand.

 Nicholas Hoult

 

Nicholas Hoult is both the tallest (6'2'') and youngest (~24) of my casting picks.  I admit I didn't think too much of him in X-Men: First Class, but I loved him in Warm Bodies.  I haven't seen him in much else, but looks-wise I can definitely see him as Rand al'Thor.  

Well, that's it for this Tuesday--next Tuesday, I'll be casting Matrim Cauthon.  If you (assuming anyone reads this) have any suggestions for casting, feel free to leave them in the comments!

 

Wheel of Time Dream Casting Project

So...I adore Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series.  A friend encouraged me to read it, and I couldn't stop once I began.  I love epic fantasy--I'm always in awe of people who are good at creating whole worlds with their own language and history.  As a writer, I cannot fathom doing such a thing--the details that have to be hammered out and the hard work that must go into lovingly crafting the cultures and races and traditions and customs is simply staggering.  I love reading it and getting engrossed.  I love that usually, these stories have many, many volumes and take forever to read (because I read a lot).  I'm currently on book twelve of the fourteen books in the series.  You can really get to know a character after you've read thousands and thousands of words about them.  Their personalities (if done well) are so distinct and just...gorgeous to read.

In any case, this series hasn't been made into a movie or TV show yet (and I'm not sure it ever will--I don't see how it could be any less expensive or troubling to make than Game of Thrones, and though the HBO television adaptation of that series is wildly successful, I'm not sure anyone would dare undertake something this massive), but I can't stop thinking about a dream cast for the characters.  Many, many fans of the series have already done this, but I thought it would be fun to do the same from time to time on this blog.  I figure the posts will each focus on casting for one character, and I'm going to try to provide several actors who might be good for that role.  I will also try to provide descriptions of the characters from the books so that we can see how appropriate the casting choice might be.  It's going to be tons of fun (for me, at least)!

Why Does Creativity Strike....

At such weird times?  In response to weird things?

I've been writing like the wind!  Well...compared to the pace I usually write, it feels like the wind. It's almost a compulsion.  And I've been thinking and thinking and thinking about a story I want to write.  It has been occupying at least 70-80% of my thoughts.  I've even had trouble sleeping because I'm still turning things over in my mind.

And it feels awesome.  I love this stage of writing something.  I finally wrote out the first scene today.  I tend to keep a story in my head until I can't anymore, and then I write out a few scenes, then start connecting them together and filling in the bare spots.  It's so much fun!

But it escapes me why this would happen now.  I've had a pretty nasty cold (I was even sent home from work today) and I haven't been sleeping well.  I'm generally busy with work and the baby, and it often feels like I have no free time.  Yet, one of my writer friends happens to mention that she loves dorky romances (those in which the romantic lead is not your typical burly, statuesque Greek god-like guy), and she lamented the fact that people don't write too many of them.  I like them too, and I thought "Hey, I can write one of those!" It's been my obsession for the past few days now. 

I'm going to see if I can, in fact, write one of those.

A Crazy End of the Year...and There Really Aren't Enough Hours in the Day

SO.  We bought the house that I was gushing over in the last post.  I'm not kidding.  We bought it and now it is ours.  It was a whirlwind thing, really--we closed at the end of November and were moved in by mid-December.  I think this more than explains my absence from posting here!

We love it.  We love the space, we love the location.  We are excited about the projects (and they are many).

Now to switch gears....

There aren't enough hours in the day for me to do everything I want to do.  Lately, I keep doing that thing where I think, "Hey, I'd really like to learn to do/play/make ___________ before I die."  And these things keep adding up--there are way too many things I'd love to do before I die--hobbies I'd love to take up and places I'd love to see.  I seem to be stuck on hobbies, mostly.  For instance, here's the list I have (and I'm probably forgetting some):

Learn to play electric guitar
Learn to play piano
Learn to play cello
Become fluent in Spanish
Learn to box/a martial art
Learn to crochet
Get better at knitting
Learn to sew using a sewing machine
Learn Latin ballroom dancing
Study/read about world history
Read a lot more comic books/graphic novels
Learn to draw/paint better
Write more. LOTS more.

There aren't enough hours in the day.

House Dreams and Zillow Addictions

I have a horrible addiction.  It takes up so much of my time.  Sometimes I'm so distracted with it that I don't even hear my husband ask me questions....

It's....Zillow! *chime the DUN DUN DUNNNNNN music*

The hubby and I are pretty sure that we're going to be settling here for the foreseeable future, so we feel like it is fairly safe to consider a home purchase.  We've figured out our budget (determined not by a bank, but by how much we're willing to pay into a mortgage every month) and we've actually looked at two houses.  My current landlord is a realtor, as is his brother.  We've mostly been dealing with his brother to look at the houses.

As prepared and responsible as we are, we're still stuck here for a little while longer.  We didn't have a whole lot of money saved up for a down payment--we generally have enough if it is a Fannie Mae foreclosure or if we were going to do an FHA loan--but if we want to put more down (and conventional loans require a little more down), then we've gotta save up more.  It sucks because we fell in love with the second house, but it makes the best financial sense to save up for a slightly larger down payment to secure a conventional loan.  We have just enough for the down payment--but we'd have absolutely no savings left once we did that and ordered an independent home inspection.  With a baby and the uncertainties of life, having no savings left is just too scary to take that chance.  It's also easy to get so caught up in the excitement that you forget how expensive it can be to move, even when you are only moving five or six miles away.  We'd have to rent a small U-Haul, and get all of our services transferred to the new house (flipping switches or programming new addresses into the computers at these places seems to cost anywhere from $30-60 a pop).

I will gush a little about the house.  It's funny because a lot of people wouldn't like it (and that's what we're counting on--we hope it doesn't sell until we are in a better position to buy it).  First, the  bad stuff that we're hoping will keep it on the market a while: the kitchen is outdated, with older appliances (and I'm not talking appliances that aren't stainless steel, I'm talking some pretty crazy old appliances), vinyl or linoleum flooring, and laminate countertops. There are hardwoods in the foyer and dining room, but carpet in the living room (though the carpet there is in decent shape).  All rooms but the bathrooms are carpeted upstairs, and those carpets are in dire need of replacing--they're stained and in most cases, they do not match (like they replaced the hall carpet, but none of the bedrooms, etc.).  The upstairs ceilings are popcorn-tastic.

So why would we want such a house? The kitchen has a lot of cabinets and a great island, plus two pantries. The cabinets are wood, and could easily be updated by changing out the hardware.  The kitchen space is phenomenal, and exactly what I want.

The formal dining room has dental molding, and plenty of space, plus lots of natural light.  The living room has a fireplace (though it is a wood-burning fireplace, which can be messy--but still).  There is a screened porch off the back of the house, and the yard is massive, and has a storage shed.  There is a two-car garage and plenty of space at the back of the garage for added storage and organization.

Upstairs, the story gets even better--the laundry is in the upstairs hall, and it has a bank of upper wall cabinets for storage.  The hall also boasts a nice linen closet and a walk-in closet!  The master bedroom is a great size, as is the master bath--and the walk-in closet off the master bedroom is massive and already has organizers built in.  The other two bedrooms are of a good size and both have great closets.  The bathroom that serves the other two bedrooms has a double vanity, and is more spacious than the one bathroom we have in our rental. There is attic storage, accessed from a pull-down ladder built into the ceiling.

Finally, there is a bonus room that is a great size--it would be perfect to serve as our TV/videogaming room, and it would still have space for our desktop computer and our exercise equipment.

Can you tell I'm in love?  We don't mind the bad features, though another thing that stays our hand is that we'd want to replace the carpets upstairs and fence the backyard for the dogs--both things that take a bit of money--and if we don't wait, we won't have the money to do that. We don't mind waiting on all the other things, but those are two that we'd really prefer to be able to do right away. Odds are, this house will sell before we're ready to buy it, and I keep telling myself that another will come that might be even better. In the spring, I think a lot more houses will be put up on the market, so our selection will improve, as well.

But I still really like this house, and it will hurt when I see the "For Sale" status on Zillow change to "Pending" and then finally..."Sold".

Musings on Freedom of Speech

My Facebook feed is infected with tons of shared articles and people taking a stand for or against Chick-fil-A president Dan Cathey's stance against gay marriage. I have a lot of conservative friends (how can I not? I'm from East Texas for goodness' sake), and some of them go back and forth or just say they support the message, yadda yadda yadda.  I'm remaining quiet (there) because I don't feel like fighting with anyone, though no one would be surprised that I of course do not support that stance: I think homosexuals should be allowed to marry and have all the rights enjoyed by heterosexuals.  What is so surprising and so baffling to me, though, is that even my conservative friends don't seem to understand that Dan Cathey probably wouldn't approve of most of their ideas of family--hell, most of them wouldn't qualify to operate one of his restaurants, given his requirements! Whatever do I mean? Well, look at what he said:

"We are very much supportive of the family -- the biblical definition of the family unit," Cathy said. "We are a family-owned business, a family-led business, and we are married to our first wives. We give God thanks for that." http://www.cnn.com/2012/08/01/us/chick-fil-a-appreciation/index.html

Here's the thing: most Americans wouldn't fit that definition--I'm zeroing in on the whole "we are married to our first wives" statement.  I think that under such a definition (let's assume he probably means families in which the children are born to couples married before the child is born and in which the couple remains married, and neither spouse is on their second or third marriage after divorcing, etc.), many of the people who are happily munching on their Chick-fil-A waffle fries to supposedly defend their beliefs in the immorality of gay marriage don't realize that their beliefs probably aren't shared by Dan Cathey.  Just think of your own friends and acquaintances--how many are divorced? How many had a child out of wedlock? How many had premarital sex or lived with someone before they married?  Like so many things, people focus so much on one of the consequences of a particular belief system that they don't extrapolate the belief system to see the others: that the person who sounds like he is your ally in one arena is likely going to be judging you in another. 

How can most Americans claim to even understand such a notion as the so-called "traditional" definition of marriage?  So many of us have never experienced it, or have seen it self-combust in our own families.  So many of us were brought up in a hodge-podge of blended families and aunts who are still called aunts but who are no longer really married to uncles and so on.  We still talk to our former mother-in-laws and we're Facebook friends with our ex-husband's new wife and sometimes we even celebrate our holidays together. We've been recreating the idea of family for so many years that we don't even recognize when it isn't traditional anymore. And you know what? It's fine.

Another thing that baffles me is that people seem to confuse freedom of speech with freedom from the consequences of exercising freedom of speech. They are not the same thing.  I agree that Cathey has a right to exercise his freedom of speech and to spout his anti-gay message and to put his money into supporting anti-gay causes.  But no one should expect those who don't agree with his message to continue supporting him.  That isn't what freedom of speech guarantees.  He can't be arrested or prosecuted for the things he says, but there's nothing that guarantees his protection from negative press or other types of fallout for voicing his beliefs.  Just as anyone else, when possible, I try to keep my money from going to causes and projects with which I disagree--in a nation in which we have to live together and supply the government with some money for the common good, I know that sometimes I have to support things I otherwise wouldn't (money for wars, costs for prisons to continue death row operations, etc.).  But I'll be damned if I'll knowingly feed money to someone who is actively trying to prevent others from enjoying civil rights I believe they deserve. 

The fact that in most states, it is illegal for a significant segment of the population of consenting adults to marry the person they love seems in opposition to the freedom that our nation is supposed to offer.  I think that so many simply suffer from a lack of imagination: they do not bother to put themselves in the shoes of homosexuals, and to really and truly consider the notion that a law-abiding, tax-paying person could be barred from marrying the person they truly love, who is another human adult who just happens to be of the same sex.  Is it so difficult to imagine a world in which it is absolutely illegal for you to marry the person with whom you are in love?  Legalizing same-sex marriage will not automatically usher in a host of other types of marriages--there's no good reason to think that it is grounds for allowing human-animal marriages, pedophilia, or even multiple spouses.  There are very good reasons for barring those other types of relationships that do not apply to marriages between same-sex partners.

In any case, that is my rant.  I've hidden it out here, where hardly anyone comes, but it is nice to have it out there anyway.  

 

What's New?

So I have been a bit silent here--and that's not unusual.  I get really busy, and between my other blogs it is sometimes hard to find time to gather my thoughts enough to write something here.  Besides, my life isn't exactly a er...gripping read. Most of my time these days is spent telling my daughter "stop it" and "no" and "don't stand on that--you'll break your neck." 

In the time I've been gone, at least two big things have happened.  I turned thirty and my daughter turned one!  I took stock of my status in life at thirty and for the most part, things are pretty nice: loving husband, adorable daughter, no debt, stable job with benefits, actively pursuing another career path that promises to be intellectually stimulating, and I'm still writing my silly stories and planning to write them in a more serious manner at some point.  There are, however, a few stormclouds that cannot be ignored--father with cancer, family and many close friends who live very far away, and that perpetual feeling that there just isn't enough time in the day, and possibly not enough time in a life. 

On the whole, I know I am a very lucky individual.  I try to focus on that instead of on the things that aren't working out to make a perfect life for me--compared to the majority of people, anything I'm suffering is laughably minor.  If I can't do anything about the stormclouds, then I just hope that soon, the weather in that area of my life will change for the better.  You don't cancel the picnic when there's only a ten percent chance of rain.

New haircut...

So I got a new haircut.  It's short again, which is much more in keeping with my lifestyle and personality.  I took the following picture to a local place that has cosmetology students (have I mentioned that I'm super reluctant to spend much on my hair? In other words, I'm cheap?):

Unfortunately, I got something that wasn't quite that haircut.  It wasn't really bad...but it wasn't what I'd wanted.  The silhouette was completely wrong--too long in the back and on the sides and too short at the top.  After pointing to the picture several times and saying, "Make it look like that" I finally just told the poor cosmetology student that it looked great and I paid and left.  I went home, hoping it would magically look like what I'd wanted, and of course it didn't.  I thought, "Maybe it will look better with razored ends or something".  And then I looked up how to do that, and I did it myself!

I know, I know--you're thinking that's taking a ridiculous risk--but here was my reasoning:

1. I wasn't very happy with it the way it was.
2. If I messed it up, I would just go to a different salon and get them to fix it.
3. If it worked, then that would save me time and money!

Here was the result of my efforts:

 

Trust me--it looks a lot closer to what I wanted than what I had when I came home.  I'm pretty happy with the results.  It probably looks crazy from certain angles, but so far I can't really find anything that seems too out of place.  I'm considering putting in some highlights, too......

 

So Smug...

So I think I'm in one of those moods in which I take exception to just about everything.  I'm pretty sure I am, because I've been arguing with my mother-in-law for several days about an article I posted on Facebook, and I keep seeing people I generally like posting things that irritate me.  It's difficult to deal with these moods without ruining friendships, so I'll bask in the secluded nature of this corner and vent a little.

I'm going to talk about smugness.  It happens to the best of us.  I love the movie Bridget Jones's Diary (and the book), and the scene when she's dealing with smug married people is always a little painful.  I hate that she flounders and doesn't feel confident or whole in a group of paired-off people.  And until I had a baby, I didn't have any idea that there was a whole other group of people--the smug childless people.  For any parent, you know the ones I'm talking about.  Whenever you are obviously happy or excited about your child, they are the ones who generally bring back the conversation to how much sleep you are not getting or how stinky the diapers are.

I wonder if the reaction they have is because they think parents are smug? Maybe some parents are.  I don't know.  I rarely feel smug about my parenthood--most of the time I feel like I'm blundering about like an idiot.  In any case, here's an observation: if your primary arguments against having children are that you don't want to deal with diapers or with a lack of sleep, then obviously you shouldn't have children.  Obviously.  In fact, you probably shouldn't have a pet, either.  Those produce waste that often has to be picked up or taken away, they get sick, and on occasion they keep you up at night, too. 

Look--there's nothing wrong with not wanting to have a child. I once felt that way, too! But here's the big difference--I didn't act like a smug asshole about it.  I didn't gloat about my childless, simpler existence to my parent friends.  And I didn't act like they were objects of pity all the time, either, or like they ceased to exist as people and simply became these entities that existed only for their children, EVEN if they talked about their children a lot. If I'm misremembering and I did that to anyone, I authorize you to tell me that I did, and I will apologize to you--because it's SO annoying to be treated that way.

I have a young child, and I don't get as much sleep as I once did, that's true--but so what?  Sleep is nice, but having my baby is a lot better.  Even in the midst of waking up in the middle of the night because she's rolling around and kicking me in the back, I look at her in complete wonder because I can't believe that I was able to produce something so absolutely beautiful and amazing. I'm content to watch her sleep because she is endlessly fascinating to me.  I love her more than just about anything else in this world.  In the face of feeling something like that, an uninterrupted night's sleep, in comparison, is overrated.

Baby Steps

Losing the baby weight is hard, my friends.  Ever since I seriously began trying, I've lost about ten pounds, and that was a great feeling--a lot of momentum that was achieved mostly by adjusting my eating habits.  Now that momentum has stalled and I'm at the point where I need to start exercising to keep the weight loss going. 

When I'm very good, I'm doing some weight training once a week with a friend on Sunday mornings.  We haven't been able to keep this up regularly and we've missed for the last month at least due to various things--illnesses and life stuff just elbowing it aside.  In the past two or three weeks, I've been trying to work out during the week, too.  I've been hula-hooping and jump-roping, usually for sessions that total no more than thirty minutes. It's not much, but it's fun and for someone as out of shape as I am, it's plenty challenging. I'm trying to master the art of walking forwards and backwards while hula-hooping, which is surprisingly difficult to do.  People do some amazing things with hula hoops--if I get any good and learn some of the cool tricks I'll have Michael record me one day.  

Pioneer Woman Pork Chops

So tonight I made one of the most delicious meals I have ever made. It is all thanks to this recipe from The Pioneer Woman. You know you want to see the pictures.

First, my husband drank a glass of wine (the same I used to cook the dish) while I cooked.  I thought this was fair, since he had to corral a very fussy baby to give me time to prepare this delicious feast.

 

And after a little while, this was the result:

 

Aaaaand another just to capture the sheer deliciousity (no, it's not a word--at least, not one that spell check recognizes...):

 

I'm actually not the biggest fan of pork chops--but it turns out that I'm just not a fan of pork chops that aren't covered in a garlic wine sauce. Yum, yum, yum. 

Reviving this Blog

I'm reviving this blog because I find that I need a place to talk about things that don't really fit on the blog about my baby, nor do they fit well...anywhere else, really.  It feels a little self-indulgent...but I'm going to do it anyway.

I'm going to do a quick run-through of all the things I've been thinking about/doing lately that I've felt compelled to write about:

1. My father was diagnosed with a rather aggressive and rare form of cancer late last year. He's fighting very hard every day, and he has a lot of fighting left to do--but I firmly believe that he can do it.
2. My mother, who works in a prison, was made a sergeant.  She hasn't worked there very long, but she has already accomplished so much, and I am very proud of her for that.
3. I will start taking classes this summer at the local community college to get my postbaccalaureate diploma in paralegal studies.  While I do like my current job and my coworkers, I am not sure that I can see myself doing this sort of work for the rest of my life.  I think that in the right setting, a position as a paralegal would be well-suited to my temperament and strengths, and I think it is also important in this particular economy to make yourself marketable in many areas, if possible.
4. I have started a "diet" that is more of a lifestyle change--I eat like a French woman, which is to say, I watch my portions, eat three full meals a day, and I don't pay attention to things like calories or whether something is whole-wheat or whatever. It's awesome, and has resulted in a slow but steady weight loss for me (I need to lose my baby weight).
5. I write stuff.  I know that you're thinking, "Of course you do--I'm reading the blog you wrote" but what I mean to say is that I write fiction.  I write stuff that other people read, and I have a really hard time letting people I know in real life (which is an absurd distinction, because my online writer friends are people I know in real life--they just aren't physically present) read this stuff.  I'm going to write a post about it someday, but if you ever stumble across my stuff and you aren't one of my many online friends who are already reading my stuff--don't talk to me about it. I can't talk to you about it. Not yet. 
6. I had the weirdest dream last night which featured a horrific mishap with a very strange steam-powered machine that sliced, buttered, and toasted french bread in mass quantities.  When I say horrific mishap, I mean that the machine somehow exploded, causing a person to be thrown out the kitchen window and burned with machine shrapnel all at the same time. I have absolutely no idea why I would have such a dream. 
7. This week I'm making this recipe, and I plan to blog about how it turns out.

OK, so that should do it for now! 

Questioning the Lessons from Little Women

Louisa May Alcott's Little Women is one of my favorite books. It was one of the first great works of literature I ever picked up, and I have read it over and over again through the years. As much as I love this work, however, I am still skeptical about some of the lessons that I think Alcott wanted the reader to take away. My favorite character in the book was Josephine March. Josephine (Jo) was a tomboy who loved to write. She was almost constantly plotting her next story, and she and her sisters would often act out her sensational dramas for their own personal entertainment. Jo even sold some of her stories to newspapers and periodicals, which really helped her family out during a difficult time (her father was fighting in the Civil War).

When Jo grew up, she moved to a boarding house in New York to work and write. She met Professor Friedrich Bhaer, who was a scholarly older man, and they struck up a friendship. When she sold one of her stories to a paper and excitedly brought it to him, he criticized her writing, basically telling her that her stories were low-brow and that she could write things that were much better. She was crushed, of course, and this was one of the defining moments in her life. Later, she produces a work more to his liking, and they end up married.

I remember being a bit puzzled about this when I first read it, and even sometimes now, if I think about it long enough. Do writers have a responsibility to produce a particular type of literature? Is there something wrong with producing light, easy, and fun stories? I'm bothered by the question because it was evident that Jo loved to write the types of stories she wrote before she was influenced by Professor Bhaer. It was also evident that her family, friends, and some of the public loved to read them. I think there's a time and place for each type of literature, and I think Professor Bhaer was acting like a judgmental ass when he made it seem like there was only one type of literature worth reading or producing.

Sometimes people want mindless fun. Books that have somewhat predictable plots and thrilling and unlikely events are about like movies and TV shows: they provide a temporary, welcome escape. I like to be caught up in a character's perplexing mystery or burgeoning romance. I also like deeper works that prompt questions about the way people live their lives or the right thing to do in a situation. There's a time and a place for both, and I don't see why one is "bad" while the other is "good". So, if I were Jo, I'd like to think that I would have pointed this out, then gone back to Concord and married Lawrence instead (he did end up pretty much supporting Jo and Prof. Bhaer later on anyway--maybe if Prof. Bhaer would have encouraged Jo to write stories that sold better, that wouldn't have been the case).

That is yet another point at which I (as well as other fans of the book) balk: Alcott had Jo choose to marry Prof. Bhaer instead of her best friend, the young and handsome Lawrence. Jo and Laurie had real chemistry, and a lifelong friendship, and yet Jo marries the significantly older Prof. Bhaer. Even the most recent movie adaptation of Little Women knew that would be a tough sell: Christian Bale as Laurie couldn't lose out to someone who looked and acted like the Prof. Bhaer described in the book (think Santa Claus but with reddish brown hair)--it became slightly more believable when they had Prof. Bhaer played by Gabriel Byrne. Hm. Alcott seemed to be saying that you should marry someone who will make you a better person, even if that means passing up someone for whom you have a real passion. I'm not sure how I feel about that point. It seems like you can get that same benefit from a friend, so why settle for only one of those things when you can have both? Jo could have married Laurie and corresponded with Prof. Bhaer. Dilemma solved. It seems that Alcott wasn't the greatest at thinking of alternatives--she didn't make much use of the inclusive sense of 'or'. As a result, she paints Jo into a corner. Jo has to choose between being a "bad" person and giving into all her more basic desires (writing thrilling literature, having a young, handsome, and passionate husband), and being a "good" person (writing great and lofty literature, having an older, uglier but wiser husband, doing good deeds and works to better humankind). So, while this book was certainly one of the most influential in my life, I still find some of the themes problematic.

I'm not a student anymore....

Well folks (or folk--I think only one or two people read this thing), I'm not a student anymore. I decided not to complete my Ph.D. in Philosophy, and now I'm trying to find a job in the Real World. It's tough going, because even though I'm fairly bright, highly motivated, and well-educated, I am unfamiliar with professional job application etiquette. I remain optimistic, despite some early application blunders. I'm being very organized, and have created an Excel Spreadsheet that keeps track of my job applications and their status. Sigh. Anyway, I'm starting a new way of life, and even though I haven't been immediately successful in obtaining gainful employment, I still feel I made the right decision.

Music and Leg-Shaving

I really like it when I hear a song and I know just how one would dance to it. I can picture how one should move in my mind. Only certain songs evoke this response, and I find that interesting. One such song is "Rock Lobster" by the B-52s. Just listen to it, and maybe you'll be able to picture how you should dance. It isn't because they describe how you should dance in the song--the music just makes it seem (to me at least) that there's really only one way you would dance to that song. While playing Guitar Hero III, I find it is the same situation with the song "Mississippi Queen" by Mountain. Weird, huh?

Speaking of weirdness, I noticed two things at the gym: 1) Mr. Sinew does not shave his legs; and 2) Mr. Bulky does shave his legs. Pretty funny. Next on the agenda is to see whether Mr. Bulky shaves his arms. I need to be careful--I think I have somehow captured the attention of Mr. Bulky (I guess I'm not as sneaky with my scrutiny as I need to be). I think I have caught him looking at me a time or two, and...well I won't state my second suspicion, because when it is typed out it just looks crazy. One thing is almost certain--if he is looking at me, it is not with some sort of romantic or sexual interest. I would wager it is either consternation or curiousity ("How can someone be that weak and live?"). What would be really bad is if he has a name for me. "Ah, there is Ms. Short and Squat."