Posts that matter

In my day to day Internet searching I read a fair amount of news/gossip/"celebrity" updates (put in parentheses because the classification of a celebrity is up for interpretation).  I try to keep my junk news to a minimum.....in fact I I don't consider myself a junkie, but I come across interesting tidbits from time to time that peak my curiosity. 

Like most of the world I caught the royal baby fever and was pretty darn excited when the little bundle of joy finally made his first public appearance.  So excited that I felt I wanted to, nay, MUST write about the occasion like every other blogger out in cyberspace.  Not that my opinions, observations, lack of expertise on anything to do with the royal family would stand out from any of the other commentary, but I got caught up in the moment and just felt compelled to go for it. 

So I started a post.  I saved a post.  I didn't finish a post.  And you want to know why?

I realized I didn't care about the post enough to finish it.  Most of the information I was pilfering from other websites, and frankly the only points I cared about making were that I absolutely love everything the Duchess wears (including her maternity clothes), and that the whole concept of a royal couple having a baby is just kind of exciting in a very old world sort of way.  Those of us who don't live under a monarch tend to find the whole "heir to the throne" thing rapt with intrigue.

To summarize and more or less bring together the above paragraphs: I read a lot of stories about the royal baby, I got excited, I thought I should blog about the happy occasion as well as the Duchess's clothes.  I mean seriously, her style is impeccable!  What I wouldn't give to raid her closet.......

Moral of the story?  I felt no real connection to the post and in turn couldn't even be bothered to finish it.  I realized that I don't like posting something just to write words for a given day, I want to post/write about things that actually matter to me, that I feel some kind of connection to.  I find greater satisfaction in writing that is more personal, or at least on topics that I'm more passionate about. 

Not that I'm trying to take anything away from the Duke and Duchess, they seem like lovely people.  But you will have to seek beyond this blog for those extra special glimpses into their lives. 

Also, in case you got lost along the way, this post was about how I didn't finish an earlier post, so I decided to write a new post explaining why I didn't finish the old post, and also to reaffirm my posting policy from here on out.  

Did I mention I'm a big fan of clear, concise writing?  It's Monday, people.  Please don't give up on me!      

Welcome back to the blog

What the hell have I been doing for an entire month that I haven't had time to post on this blog?  Oh, I don't know, things like painting my deck, and going to a wedding, and turning 29 (eek!), and getting new central AC installed, and going on a job interview, and basically watching as the month of July RACED out the door, leaving just a little sliver of summer behind. 

So yea, things have been busy.  As if they're ever not busy.  Most of the time I've been having fun, sipping a cold one, and overall enjoying life.  The job interview was.....interesting.  It's definitely not a for sure thing at this point and my mind isn't completely made up one way or the other, so regardless of what happens at least I can chalk the whole thing up to a character building experience.  The central AC has basically changed my life, and I can't believe we've lived in our house for four years without it.  Even though Pullman summers don't last as long as other areas, when it gets in the 90's and it's over 80 degrees inside the house, I would sell a kidney just to have cool air coming through the vents.  Luckily I got to keep all my internal organs this time around, and still ended up with AC!  Heck of deal. 

Dean was the best man at a wedding this past weekend, and it was quite a lovely affair.  He also looked incredibly handsome in his tux, and delivered his best man speech wonderfully.  I was quite proud.  What is it about men when they put on a tuxedo?  It's like they turn into GQ models and you wonder if this is really your husband or some very beautiful imposter.  I'm so used to seeing him in Carharts and sweaty work shirts I sometimes forget how nicely he can clean up.

Oh, and last week I had a birthday and turned 29.  It wasn't a very momentous birthday as we were en route to Portland for the wedding and I had a bachelorette party to attend that night, but it was a birthday nonetheless.  Next year will be the end of my twenties and the beginning of my thirties.  That's some sort of milestone, right?  I'm not in panic mode yet, nor do I think I will be anytime soon.  I feel like I'm kind of over the whole "age" thing.  I had my quarter life crisis at 25, maybe even a couple years before that, and now I've decided I don't have enough energy to worry about how old I am and what it means in the grand scheme of things.  As if it has to mean anything in the first place.  Moving on.....

Now that I'm more or less "back" I'm going to try and dedicate more time to this space and see if I can get back in some kind of groove.  I know, I know, those promises have been made and broken before, but it's the thought that counts, right?  Only time will tell. 

On the docket for tomorrow:  the royal baby and why I'm just so obsessed Kate Middleton.        

And it only took 28 years.....

 

I've been writing for what feels like forever.  I've been writing diaries, journals, school assignments, newspaper articles, creative fiction, this blog, to-do lists, poems, and scores of other items pretty much since I learned how to read and write.  I've received compliments before from teachers, classmates, and family members, which always makes one feel good, but yesterday, I received what I consider my first real positive accolade from a member of the general public.
 
I had someone tell me that an article I wrote really spoke to them, that it made them pause and examine themselves, and they could see how what I wrote about related to them.  This person told me they read my article several times over, that they were amazed how much they related to it, and how it helped them realize things about their own personality.  They said it was well written, interesting, and a real pleasure to read.
 
It only took me 28 years, but in that moment I felt like a real writer.  I felt like I had really accomplished something with my words, even if those words only resonated with one person.  I had impacted someone, had helped them to see themselves differently, and held their attention enough that they read my article not once, but three times in a row.

I often don't even read my own material that many times.   
 
I will never, ever forget that feeling.  It was empowering, it was something that I had always wanted to do with the words I put to paper (or computer screen).  It was a reminder of what writing is supposed to do.  It's supposed to reach out and touch someone.  To spark their imagination, their curiosity, their intellect.  It also reminded me that words should not be taken for granted.....because they do have power.  It reminded me that even though I'm often frustrated with this blog, with my stories, with my seeming lack of productivity and growth as a writer, that maybe this all isn't in vain.  In that moment I felt a surge of hopefulness.....maybe I'm not wasting my time.  Maybe if I keep at this I can really make it happen.

I realize that in the grand scheme of things I still have a long ways to go, but it sure felt good to hear those words, to have a reader relate their experience to me.  And experience that was brought about because of something I wrote.  I'm not trying to sound braggy......I guess I just can't come up with an eloquent way to express what this meant to me.  I've dreamt of being a writer all my life, and it scares and saddens me sometimes to think that it might only ever be just that.  A dream.  But yesterday was something akin to a breakthrough, and I caught a glimpse of what it's like to have your words make an impact on another human being.

And you want to know a secret?  I kind of liked it.

On photo albums

One of my favorite past times is looking through photo albums.  When I was younger I used to love pulling albums off the shelves and going through all the pictures, even if they were ones I had seen hundreds of times before.  The organization freak in me is drawn to photo albums because they are such neat, concise packages of memories just waiting to be leafed through.

I have to wonder if photo albums are becoming a thing of the past.  With digital cameras, camera phones, the popularity of photo websites for storing pictures, it's hard to say whether much time is still dedicated to the process of printing out pictures, labeling them, and chronologically putting them into an album.  For a lot of people I'm sure it's enough to post a picture on Facebook and call it good.

For myself, however, I still gravitate toward the photo album.  It's kind of like reading an actual book as opposed to using my Kindle.  I love my Kindle and use it daily, but I also like having a real book in my hands.  I like the act of physically turning the pages, the smell of the paper and the feel of the binding.  The same applies to a picture album.  It's nice to be able to hold a picture in your hands, to see it "live" rather than over a computer screen.  But you can print digital prints, which really gives you the best of both worlds.  The best thing, in my opinion, about printing digital pictures?  You can pick and choose which prints you want, and don't HAVE to print every single picture you take.  This allows plenty of room for error and you aren't left kicking yourself when you get your pictures back and realize you inadvertently took 20 close up shots of the inside of your purse.  

Right before Christmas we finally broke down and got a new laptop.  And while we're loving the new machine and the speed at which we can now get things done, my mind keeps wandering to all the pictures that I uploaded onto our old computer.  It scares me simply because technology is not reliable, and one of these days I just know I'll go to turn on that old computer and it won't cooperate.....meaning my pictures will be lost forever.  I'm not sure which is a more tedious task, trying to keep digital pictures safe and in one place, or trying to keep photo negatives in order and undamaged through a number of years. 

I realize the next step in my photo evolution is going to be the arduous task of sorting and saving all my digital prints in one location, but oh what a project that will be.  Digital is fantastic mainly for the convenience factor, but when it comes to taking stock of what pictures you have, where they are, and what order they belong in.....it can quickly become a complicated process.

I imagine I will be a photo album keeper my entire life.  Pictures in an album just seem much more real, and I like to think that 20 years from now I can easily pull a book of memories off the shelf rather than have to strain to remember a password for a website where all my snapshots have been uploaded.  

I like to think I'm finding my own way to exist between the digital and the print world.  I just have to get all my pictures onto the same computer.               

Are you a good teammate?

Having played organized sports for years, I know quite a bit about being on a team.  Teamwork is very big these days.  Who knows, maybe it always has been and I just wasn't paying attention.  But seriously, these days the concept of doing something alone is practically unheard of.  From group projects to committees to team marathons, the togetherness factor is seen in almost every facet of our day-to-day lives. 

I was thinking about teams this morning because I play on a co-ed softball team and am probably going to miss our game this weekend, which I'll admit makes me feel a tad guilty.  The funny thing about it is that even though I generally have a good time at our games, I almost always find myself complaining about not wanting to go play once Sunday rolls around.  But regardless of how lazy I'm feeling, I also am a firm believer in fulfilling one's commitments, which is why I always show up for the games unless of course I am out of town.  My husband is the same way.  He is definitely a man of his word and is by far one of the most dependable people I know.  Most of the time this is a very endearing quality, and one which I hope gets passed down to our future offspring.  I say most of the time because there are occasions when I wish he wouldn't commit himself to readily to other people's bidding......doesn't he know I want him around to do my bidding?  Joke, joke.  I promise I'm at least a little self-reliant.

But back to the whole team thing.  I let my mind wander a bit on the subject and began pondering what exactly makes someone a good teammate.  Is it someone who always shows up when they're supposed to, or does it go beyond the physical act of just being there?  In sports, the guidelines of being a good teammate are pretty cut and dry.  You show up, you give it your all, you encourage your teammates, and you always, always back each other up.  I'm an outfielder in softball, so for the me this last point is a real stickler.  When you're on a team, it becomes apparent pretty early on that your actions and decisions will not only impact you, but everyone else on your team as well.  It can be hard for people to think outside of themselves as just individuals and instead contemplating the "greater good," but I've this concept play out oh so many times in oh so many ways.  It's not just something coaches talk about to try and get everyone to like each other, it's straight up truth. 

But we aren't just teammates in the athletic sense.  Being in a marriage is very much akin to being on an organized team, you just don't usually have a coach guiding you along the way and helping you fine tune your skills.  Nope, you have to take care of that all on your own.  I often wonder if I'm a good teammate in my marriage.  I feel like I am most of the time, but there are obviously areas that could use improvement (aren't there always?)  For instance, I have a hard time accepting the fact that things aren't always going to be 50/50.  Sometimes one person is just going to have to do more of something, or all of something, and it's not going to get "paid back" right away if ever.  My thinking goes something like this:  I cleaned the kitchen so you can work on the living room.  I folded all the laundry so you can put it away.  Tit for tat, right?

But then there are those instances when your husband goes to work all day, then does more work for his own business AFTER work, and doesn't get home until late in the evening, dirty and hungry and tired, and the last thing he wants to do let alone hear is, "Hi honey!  I left all the laundry out for you to put away so if you could take care of that before you shower/eat/put up your aching feet/collapse into a heap on the living room floor that would be great!"

I have to remind myself sometimes that the split isn't always going to be even.  There isn't always going to be a clear line of demarcation with an even set of responsibilities.  And instead of complaining or going off on a tirade about how much the other person "owes you" for picking up the supposed slack, you just have to suck it up, do the work, and know it's all part of being part of the team.

There are so many intricate details to being in a marriage that it's hard to say if one thing is more important than the other, and maybe that has something to do with each individual relationship.  But in my mind, much like in softball, there is a lot to be said for backing up your partner.  A strong support, a person who is standing there behind you in case the ball goes between your legs, that's a pretty amazing thing to have.  This can happen in so many different ways for any number of situations, but in order for it to work you have to get out of the "what's in it for me?" mindset.  You have to not focus on yourself (individual), but instead on your partner (your teammate!)  I know I struggle with this sometimes, as I'm sure we all do, because isn't it just in our nature to think about ourselves first and everyone else second?  Or am I just completely selfish?  It can be hard sometimes to just be there for someone, to not blatantly expect something in return, and to willingly make yourself available time and time again for constant, unwavering support.

But it's also a crucial aspect to being a good teammate.  And because I'm a firm believer in beating a good metaphor to death, I will close with this sentiment.  My husband and I have almost been married four years, which in terms of a lifetime together has barely gotten us through the first inning.  Who knows, maybe we're still in warm-ups.  But as I look at our relationship and how we've grown in our marriage in just this short amount of time, I like to think that we have the stamina and the mentality to really go the distance.  We might have some breakdowns in our defense from time to time, but overall we are figuring out each others strengths and weaknesses, and the areas where we can each contribute a little more to make sure we have a winning season. 

And from time to time, we can even pull through to find success in extra innings. 

Boom.  Metaphor.....destroyed. 

         

I can't take fake Benadryl anymore

This morning I did something I knew I would regret.  And yet, being the eternal optimist that I am, I thought to myself that maybe things would be different this time around. 

They weren't. 

Last summer during the peak of allergy season I was at Walmart looking for my preferred brand of allergy medicine, the Equate version of Claritin.  To my dismay the little white box with the blue lining was nowhere to be found, so I was forced to purchase the pink box of Equate, which just happens to be the generic form of Benadryl.  I had never taken real Benadryl before, but since all I was looking for was relief from my sneezing and itchy eyes I figured one color of box had to be just as good as another.

I was wrong. 

Over the next week or so I started having a hard time staying awake at work.  Usually in the early morning hours, regardless of how much sleep I had gotten the night before.  I literally couldn't keep my head up or my eyes open.  I was doing the head jerk.....you know, when you start to doze off then wake up really suddenly and snap your head backward?  Yea, practically gave myself whiplash.  I also felt extremely groggy, and my head felt fuzzy every time I would get up to use the bathroom.  I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me, and just chalked it up to a mixture of tiredness and boredom.  

Until one day, when I just happened to read the label of my fake Benadryl bottle more closely.  It was then that I zoned in on the cause of my over-sleepiness. 

May cause drowsiness. 

Right there on the label.  Imagine that.  Reveling in my successful Nancy Drew moment, I promptly stopped taking fake Benadryl and went back to Walmart in search of my beloved fake Claritin. 

Flash forward one year to this morning.  Itchy eyes, sneezing, and no allergy medicine to be found aside from the fake Benadryl that is still lingering in our bathroom.  I thought to myself, this time will be different.  I've had plenty of coffee, I am stronger than a little allergy pill.  And before I could talk myself out of it, I swallowed the pink pill and welcomed the allergy relief it soon gave me. 

Flash forward a little farther.  9:15 a.m.  Sitting at my desk.  Feeling like there are sandbags on my eyelids and feeling my mind start to shut down.  All I want to do is put my head down on the desk and sleep.  Yet I fight, and I fight hard, but no matter how many drinks of water I take, or how many ways I try to distract myself, I can feel my eyes closing and my body accepting defeat.  Needless the say, the next couple hours are not very productive.  I feel like a zombie and when I open my mouth to speak it seems I have forgotten how to form complete sentences. 

Thus, I feel I will have to say goodbye to fake Benadryl once and for all.  Either my system is entirely too weak, or this is some of the strongest allergy medicine out there.  This stuff works better than Tylenol PM, and if I'm going to have a chance in hell of getting any work done this week, I can't keep kidding myself that fake Benadryl is going to do anything other than send me kicking and screaming into the sleep zone. 

Goodbye, fake Benadryl.  I acknowledge your great power, and find I am unworthy.     

Learning how to fight

I got mad at my husband last week.  There was no big blowup, no smashing of dishes and screaming at each other at the tops of our lungs.....in fact he wasn't even home for me to yell and scream at, which consequently was why I was mad at him.  I like to think most of the time I'm that "cool wife" who doesn't care if her husband stays out late with the guys, and generally this is true....but only if I know in advance my hubby is in fact planning to stay out late with the guys.  When I don't hear anything from him I usually assume he's lying in a ditch somewhere, cell phone destroyed (because otherwise he would answer it when I call numerous times in a row).  Then my stomach is in knots because I have seen WAY too many episodes of Law and Order and have read way too many true crime novels to believe that he hasn't been abducted or in an accident or who knows what else.  Trust me, I've come up with some pretty awful scenarios.  And yes I have been told before that I'm a drama queen, why do you ask?

Any-hoo, even though this little incident probably wouldn't be considered a true fight, we have definitely had our fair share over the years.  As I sat there last night staring at my cell phone, willing him to text me back and finally let me know when he would be home, I got to thinking about fighting when you are in a couple, and how important it is to do it correctly.

When my husband and I were first dating we had some killer arguments, especially when we had to spend a year living in different cities.  There was name calling, tears, ultimatums, every sort of dramatic influx you could imagine.  And we have learned over time how to press each other's buttons.  But over the years our fighting has also changed, at least I think it has.  Maybe it has something to do with maturity, or maybe it's more of an intuition into that other person.  Whatever it is, I think it is all for the better.

While I can only speak for myself, I know for a fact that I pay closer attention to my husband's mood/anxiety level/overall demeanor when I can feel the tension mounting on a particular topic.  I look for the signs and when I can tell he's steadily climbing the total freak-out ladder, I try to force myself to remain calm and stay in a non-combative state of mind.  Sure, it's not always easy but one thing I've learned about fighting is the importance of showcasing what you want mirrored back to you.  It's not foolproof, but it's a much better method than working myself up into a frenzy, which in turns just gets my husband fired up as well.  No bueno. 

I've also sworn off the name calling.  It's just......well, it's just mean.  And because I love my husband and know that most of the time he's practically perfect in every way, I don't want something uttered in the middle of a fight to have a lasting impression on our relationship.  Words hurt, and they are easy to dwell on.

I also try very, very hard to pick and choose what is worth fighting about.  Sometimes mitigating factors such as if I'm really hungry, really tired, or really tired AND hungry (the absolute worst combination), means that I can't help what I end up getting mad about, but when I am in control and not being ruled by my stomach I can usually push the stop button before things get too heavy.  I used to get mad over little things that made no difference whatsoever in our relationship, and now I try to focus on big picture.  It's so not worth getting into a fight every time a pair of dirty jeans gets left on the floor a mere five inches from the hamper where they could co-exist with all the other dirty clothes, or when someone doesn't want to go for a family dog walk because they would rather sit in the recliner and watch ESPN.  Yes, sometimes these things annoy me.  Yes, sometimes I can feel myself slipping into tantrum mode because my annoyance level is so high, but I also know that arguing for 15 minutes on the necessity of all dirty clothes making it into the clothes hamper isn't going to do much in the way of creating a pleasant evening.  I'm okay with picking and choosing my battles.  I honestly would rather pick up those dirty jeans off the floor than expend the energy it would take to argue about them.  Some things in a marriage warrant heated discussion, but I don't think dirty jeans are one of them.

Along with the picking and choosing of arguments, I believe there is a lot to be said for what my great-aunt told us on our wedding day.  Never go to bed angry.  Such sage wisdom, and so much truth.  Going to bed angry is the worst, mainly because it means you cannot fall asleep.  I get so infuriated when we are mid-fight, go to bed without speaking, I lay there pretending to sleep, then hear my husband's breathing drift into that deep sleep rhythm.  It's seriously the worst.  Why should he be sleeping soundly while I am laying here still fuming?  Naturally I do the most mature thing I can think of and start tossing and turning and sighing loudly to ensure that he will wake up.  Then of course there's that awkward realization when you wake up in the morning, want to say something to your husband, then slowly remember the night before and realize you are still mid-fight.  And most of the time when I wake up in the morning whatever we were fighting about the night before seems absolutely trivial, and those strong emotions that kept me from falling asleep have totally disappeared.  So I try very hard to ensure both my husband and I have the best sleep possible and resolve any disagreements before we hit the hay. 

The number one important thing I've learned about fighting with my husband?  And believe me this rule can be applied across the board, not just in a marriage.  Leave the past in the past.  Don't try and argue about something you already argued about a year ago, or even a week ago.  I'm guilty of bringing up the past in arguments, and looking back I can see how silly it is, especially if you're bringing up stuff that happened before you were in a relationship or that no longer has any bearing on your life.  

And now if you'll excuse me, I have to go pick some dirty clothes up off the floor before I take my dogs for a walk.          

Unstructured time

During the week I have a more or less set schedule.  Because nothing ever runs according to plan there are always slight variances here and there, but for the most part I stick to the same routine.  I wake up.  I feed my dogs.  I make my husband a lunch.  I work out.  I get ready for work.  I go to work.  Around 12:30 or 1 p.m. I go home for lunch, or try and squeeze in my weekly trip to the grocery store.  I go back to work.  I go home around 5.  I work outside if the weather is nice, walk the dogs, then eventually start making dinner.  I eat dinner.  I read the paper, a book, a magazine.....I read something.  I clean up the kitchen, the living room, whatever is messy and is going to bug me the most if I don't clean it before bed.  I watch TV and snuggle with my dogs on the couch.  I start falling asleep on the couch, and decide it's time for bed.  Looking at it all written out doesn't look that exciting, but on the whole it manages to keep me (at least slightly) entertained. 

I have a feeling that my schedule, like most other people's schedules, is very structured during the week.  Because a lot of us have to spend eight hours of our weekdays at work, we more or less have to set some kind of timeline for our off the clock hours to try and fit in everything it is we want to do.  A common mantra for me during the week is always, "I wish I had all day to do what I want to do."

Which, I suppose, is why we have the weekends.  That beacon of hope at the end of the work week that promises us wonderful, glorious things, then is here and gone always way too soon.  I sometimes run into trouble with the weekends, which I realize sounds like a very odd thing to say, but the truth is sometimes I have a hard time deciding what it is I should......do.  It's two days that belong completely to me, time that can be used at my own discretion, and sometimes I have a really hard time figuring out how to spend it.  It can be hard for me to move forward and function without a plan.  I like itineraries and step by step instructions, so two days of unstructured time can mess with my mind a little bit. 

I've always tried to convince myself that unstructured time is great.  I can do whatever I want to do simply because I don't have to do anything else.  This is true to an extent, except when I can't decide on how to spend the time and end up wasting it instead.  Unless of course I make the conscious decision to waste time, in which case that's totally acceptable.  I guess that's just my personality and maybe there's no way around that fact.  Maybe I will always just need some type of plan, some sort of action list in order to enjoy my time away from work.  I feel I'm in an interesting situation where I crave the freedom of the weekend, but the structure of my week. 

Is it some kind of oxymoron to crave freedom and structure, or is it possible for the two to coexist?  I'm sure to some degree there has to be an overlap, and perhaps that's where I need to be in order to fully take advantage of time, and not feel like it's disappearing before my very eyes.     

Throw in the towel?

It's been over a month since I last posted, and to be perfectly honest I have thought about this blog maybe three or four times in that entire time span.  I guess it's crossed my mind on several occasions to just throw in the towel and say goodbye to the entire blogging scene, but I also hate the idea of just quitting or giving up on something, even though I'm not exactly sure what I'm trying to get out of writing this blog.

So here I sit.  In the middle of another work week, quickly running out of steam, and I just get the feeling that I would like to write....something.  I have written absolutely nothing the past month.  I've barely had time to do laundry the past month.  Each week has been a flurry of activity, lots of late nights, and more than one instance of waking up in the morning with knots in my stomach just thinking about all the things I have to get done.  Through my blurry, sleep deprived eyes, I keep seeing the word "vacation" floating in front of me, taunting me with visions of sleeping in, staying up late, drinking in the early afternoon, and not responding to emails. 

But I digress, as usual.  Yes, things have been busy which naturally hampered my desire to try and keep up with the blogging, but I also realized that not posting entries every week wasn't having any kind of adverse effect on me.  In other words, I wasn't missing it.  But at times I would be struck with a thought, an idea, a pondering, and tell myself to remember it for later because it would make a good blog post.  So I guess I haven't completely written this page off, in a manner of speaking. 

I guess I just struggle with the lack of direction.  I'm one of those people who likes to have an end result in sight, a goal of some sort to work towards.  With this blog I don't have that, other than just writing for the sake of writing.  I suppose there's nothing inherently wrong with that, other than the fact that I quickly lose my enthusiasm for the whole thing.  There were times when coming up with something to post felt like more of a chore than something I actually felt like doing, and that's kind of when I knew it might be time to just take a break.  Except apparently I took that as a sign to take a break from ALL writing, because as I mentioned above I have not been the most productive in the creative department this past month. 

It's kind of funny in a way, because I can remember writing a post very similar to this last year at right around this same time.  Maybe this is becoming part of my natural cycle now.  And while I hate to be redundant and totally predictable, maybe this blog is just going to be something that floats in and out of my life and never becomes a total mainstay.  Maybe when it comes to blogging certain times of the year are just going to work better than others, and I'll just have to allow myself those breaks when things get too busy to focus on writing. For some reason I can never completely convince myself that I need a break from anything, let alone give something up completely.  Especially something that is wholly mine and that I have more or less committed myself to.  

So here I am.  Kind of back at the beginning, or maybe just starting a new chapter.  It remains to be seen as to whether I'll try and hold myself to a certain number of posts per week, or if I will try and reign myself in to writing on a certain theme.  I don't really see that last thing happening.  While I normally love themes because they help give me some direction, I also don't want to confine myself.....you know, for the sake of creativity. 

Okay, that's probably enough rambling for one day.  I have to say it feels kind of good to have opened this outlet again, even if I'm not sure how often I'll be using it.  All in good time, I suppose.              

Friday wrap-up

I realize there isn't much to wrap up since I haven't posted anything in over a week, but just humor me okay?  The idea mill that is my brain hasn't come up with much in the way of brilliant blog posts, so here's just a brief outline of what's going on around these parts. 

• I'm breaking out of my normal trend of reading only one or two books at a time and am currently plowing my way through four, count 'em, FOUR decent length books.  At first I was only going to tackle three, but I got overly excited one day while browsing Amazon.com and treated myself to "The Greatest Generation" on my Kindle.  And of course in my excitement I wasn't going to wait to finish any of the other books until I started the new one, so.....here we are.  Things are moving right along so far, but I'm finding it hard to make significant progress with any of them because there are only so many hours in the day, and only so many that I can manage to keep my eyes open.
  
  
• Also a break from my normal routine, I've started watching documentaries while I exercise.  God, would you listen to me.  Reading?  Documentaries?  Are my nerdish tendencies shining through bright enough?  But for reals, I totally dig the docs, you guys.  And strangely enough, watching them while I run actually hold my attention better than a lot of other things.  Right now I am smack dab in the middle of a fantastic mini-series by Ken Burns called "The War," and it is the hands down best show about WWII I have ever watched.  I think I will cry when it's over, and not just out of joy because we're going to win the war.  It's totally legit, and I highly recommend. 
  
  
• Take m on a trip I wanna go somewhere......  Did you sing that sentence like I did in my head?  Because it sums up my feelings precisely.  I'm ready to go places, y'all, and I'm really getting amped up for May because the hubs and I are going to New Orleans for his sister's college graduation.  It will be good times for sure, and in the meantime I'm trying to come up with other fun activities for us to embark on.  I am beyond ready for some changes in scenery and would love to get away for the daily hustle and bustle for a bit.
  
  
• This time of year always makes me want to be out on the softball field.  I guess old habits die hard.  Lately when I've been taking my dogs out for a walk after work, we'll see the tail end of the high school team practicing, and I feel a pang of jealousy that I'm not out there with my glove.  I definitely love the game, but I also loved the friendships I made while playing, and how close you would be to your teammates by the end of the season.  My friends and I had some of our best moments together out on the softball field, and this time of year always brings up those memories for me.
  
  
• Speaking of being outside.....the hubs and I are working on our spring/summer outdoor improvement projects list for the casa.  On the handful of nice days we've had since the first of the month I've gotten my butt outside and went to work raking, cleaning out flower beds, and chopping down branches from the annoying pine trees that line the fence in our backyard.  It felt amaze-balls to be outdoors, in the fresh air, and not freezing my butt off. I am so ready to make that an everyday occurrence and can't wait to get started on beautifying our outdoor space.
  
  
• March Madness.  Enough said.  

A post filled with parentheses and a slightly obscured positivity pledge

I don't know these people.  They just looked like they were having fun.

I always assume that everyone in the world is having more fun with their life on a given day than I am.  Would that be considered a pessimist attitude?  I hate to think I've grown overly cynical before the age of 30, but it appears that's the road we're headed down.  Unless you choose to view cynicism as a good thing.  Hey, maybe I'm not a pessimist after all!

So after that stellar intro, let me also come out and say that I don't like to complain.  No, really, I don't.  That doesn't mean I don't do it on occasion (does every day count as an occasion?)  I find it somewhat draining, and I've probably posted about it numerous times before (and you're probably thinking to yourself, please don't babble on and on about it again....), but I'm officially conducting a self-led intervention because these past few weeks (months?) I have been complaining entirely too much. 

Honestly.  Because I would never be anything but honest on this blog that nobody reads (that's not pessimism, that's realism), I am driving myself crazy with the sheer force of my negative thinking.  I think part of it is due to the fact that I'm overdue for a vacation.  Like a real vacation, not a Friday off from work where you still check email every fifteen minutes just because you can (thanks for nothing, iPhone).  But I also think I'm going through a bit of a directionless period in my life right now, and that has also caused some unwarranted stress and anxiety.  Sometimes I wake up and feel like I'm in the movie Groundhog Day, and while I normally thrive on my routine and weekly schedule, lately it's been burning me out a bit.  Which leads to more complaining.  You see the vicious cycle, yes?

Anyway, there's really no point to this post so my apologies if you stopped by hoping for a dose of inspiration.  I'm using this as my public chastising.  As a reminder to myself to put on my big girl pants and get back to being positive, to focusing my energy on the happy, sunny, rainbow filled corners of my life and giving a big "F-YOU" to everything that makes me frown. 

And on a slightly random note, what the hell is up with all the parentheses in this post?  Crap.  That wasn't a positive statement, was it?  Okay, how about.....what the heck is going on with all these positively perfectly placed parentheses in this post?  I just love alliteration!  For some reason that sentence just makes me feel like I should be on an episode of Schoolhouse Rock.  If they still even make Schoolhouse Rock, which I'm pretty sure they don't.  Which is really a shame when you think about it, because that was such a clever way for kids to learn about nouns, conjunctions, the preamble to the Constitution.....

Did I mention I'm also sleep deprived?  I know, I hide it really well.      

Feel all the feelings

Sometimes it's hard to have feelings.  I think of it along the lines of that scientific rule which states for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.  With sunshine comes rain, and so on and so forth.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm an emotional person.  I wear my heart on my sleeve and literally cannot watch those ASPCA commercials on TV because I am a hot mess by the time Sara McLaughlin finishes her touching melody about arms and angels, and all I know by the end is that I want to SAVE ALL THE ANIMALS!  

But I digress. 

On a slightly more serious note, February was an emotional month.  I had a lot of thoughts swimming around in my overactive think tank, some which I'm not quite ready to divulge to my three readers on cyberspace, but a lot of my thoughts were nostalgic in nature and had me missing people, places, things from my childhood, and a whole lot of stuff in-between.  I would be sitting at my desk and suddenly have this overwhelming urge to talk with my Grandma.  My mind would randomly flash back to family gatherings and I would start to miss those family members I don't get to see or talk with anymore.  I wasn't a walking sad sack, but I was definitely more vulnerable than usual. 

Most of the time, when I get to feeling this way, I do my best to stifle the emotions, to push the thoughts to the back of my mind and focus on other things.  And yet I'm not entirely sure this is the right thing to do.  Sometimes I think it's better to just let the feelings wash over you.  Not to necessarily wallow in grief because it isn't about being sad or upset.  It's about remembering.  About appreciating.  And yes, there is a bit of pain with the hurt of missing a person or persons, and that's okay.  But there's also a lot of joy in those memories, and once you allow yourself to get past the sadness, that joy is something that is worth revisiting. 

Sometimes I'm afraid that I romanticize my past, that I look back on things as being better than they used to be.  Do we all do that to a certain extent?  I'm sure this is true to some degree, but for the most part I feel I'm a pretty impartial judge to my past.  I remember the bad stuff, the painful stuff, and the pretty awesome stuff, each in its own right.  And with the remembering comes the feelings.  And while I don't want to be one of those people who is always looking back, sometimes it's not always a bad thing, not always something that needs to be tucked away.

Even though I am often ruled by my emotions, sometimes I have to remind myself that it's okay to feel certain things, and to let myself go through those feelings in their entirety.  I can't be afraid to feel all my feelings.....sometimes it starts out kind of rough, but in the end it's usually for the best.  A strange lesson to have to learn, but an important one nonetheless.

 

Making decisions

Sometimes decision making sucks.  Like when you're in the drive-thru at McDonalds and you feel torn between the chicken nuggets and the double cheeseburger, not wanting to choose the wrong meal for fear that you will regret your food decision the rest of the afternoon, then realizing you're eating at McDonalds for goodness sake and will probably regret the decision anyway......yea, those moments can be extremely anxiety driven.

As we get older, making decisions both big and small just becomes part of life.  All those things our parents used to handle for us suddenly become our responsibility, and it's almost like someone lifts up a curtain and exposes all the items of life we used to never give a second thought to, then tells us to figure it all out.  Stat.  

I feel like I'm getting better with my decision making.  I am usually so wishy washy, so middle of the road, so very willing to do what the group majority would like to do that I rarely decide anything definite on my own.  But some days I just don't feel like going through the whole song and dance and my decisiveness shines through.  I don't even give myself the option to say "I don't care" and instead commit myself to the choice that stands out as being the best.  Strangely enough, I usually only become this decisive when under pressure, or when I'm feeling stressed out.  I'm sure that's a horrible trend, but I really don't feel like speculating on that little nugget. 

But here's the thing.  Some days......I just want to be told what to do.  When my husband tells me what to do I make a big show of being offended and make a point to tell him that I am my own person, I decide what I do and don't do, blah, blah, blah.  I guess it's my part of the feminist movement.  But honestly, some days I just flat out don't care.  Decision making can be such a drain on my mental energy, that some days I don't want to sit and contemplate, review the information, weigh the pros and cons.  I just want to have an action list in front of me with no need to speculate on anything, and just get stuff freaking done.  Some days I just don't have it in me to be a leader, to keep track of what needs to be done and by when.  Some days I just need to be told and then subsequently move about like a mindless robot because that's literally all I have the capacity for.  

I think this is one of those fun little facts about adulthood that nobody ever really comes right out and tells you, they just let you slowly come to the realization on your own.  For some of us, making decisions does not come easy.  And I know for me it will likely be a lifelong learning process.  Let's just hope there's a grading curve. 

Real clothes vs. fake clothes

I love shopping.  And while I don't do it as often as I would like, I get such a high off of purchasing new clothes.  It's so inspiring, the act of updating ones wardrobe.  And then comes the fun of mix and matching outfits, experimenting with new styles and trends, then growing bored and doing the whole thing all over again.

Yes, I love clothes, shoes, and dressing to the nines, but sometimes what I love even more is not getting dressed.  Well, that's not technically the right way to phrase that sentiment.  I love getting dressed, just not in what are considered by most to be "real clothes."  To me, real clothes are the ones I would wear to work, or out to dinner, or to an event.  You know, socially acceptable, slightly hip, and carefully coordinated.  Fake clothes, on the other hands, are the ones that more often than not bring me the most comfort and joy.  These would be my beloved sweat pants, yoga pants, t-shirts, and workout gear.  These are the sweatshirts and Under Armour sleeves, and one of my most favorite items, the fuzzy warm slipper socks.  It is impossible to have too many pairs of them.

Obviously I get dressed in real clothes for work, although Friday is usually a wild card.  But within 15 minutes of walking inside the house at the end of the work day, I'm dressed down and have traded my form fitting pants for something with an elastic waist band.  I will rarely, rarely, RARELY stay in real clothes if I'm just going to be lounging around the house.  This rule is heavily enforced on the weekends, which at time I know drives my husband crazy.  He comes from a family that believes in getting dressed for the day, even if there's nothing on the agenda aside from doing things around the house.  Me on the other hand, if I know I'm not going anywhere I keep the sweatpants on.  All.  Day.  Long.  It just makes sense, doesn't it?  I like to think that this doesn't make me lazy, just practical 

I feel like a walking contradiction most of the time, because I do enjoy dressing up and going places, and yet sometimes my favorite part of the evening is getting home and throwing on the first oversized t-shirt I can find.  I don't pretend to know why this is the case, it just is what it is.

A cute dress and a killer pair of heels can do wonders for upping my confidence, and my overall feeling of awesomeness.  But sometimes I feel just as if not more amazing in my running shoes and Nike Dri-Fit t-shirt.  What can I say.....variety is the spice of life.     

My first love

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, I thought I would reminisce for a minute about my first love.  While I guess I technically can't confirm that books and reading are my very first love, they have definitely been the most long lasting.  

I remember when it was considered sort of uncool to enjoy reading, but this stigma never stopped me from taking a book with me every place I went.  As a kid, going to the library was literally the highlight of my day, and from the moment I walked in and saw all the books lining the shelves, just waiting to be checked out and read through one by one, I felt overcome with excitement and an eagerness to just sit down and read.  MUST.  READ.  ALL.  THE.  BOOKS.  This was my state of mind almost all the time. 

So yea.  I love reading.  And I have so much respect for the writers out there who spin these glorious stories, who can use words to create such lasting experiences for generations of readers that they remember them their entire lives.  I remember so many books from my childhood, books that I read or that were read to me that will never escape from my memory.  I remember the first time I read a book by Stephen King, being absolutely and utterly amazed by the magnitude of the story, and knowing that I had crossed over into a whole new territory of reading. 

One of my favorite things about the joy of reading is that the experience is never one and done.  I still come across books that challenge me, that amaze me.  I love that there are still stories out there that I have yet to discover, that can alter my way of thinking about certain topics.  I love that a really good book will stay with me for days and days.....that I actually miss the characters and yearn to return to the story, to desire a continuation of some kind.  This is the telltale sign of a fantastic book, and the fact that I can still experience this after numerous years and countless books proves that this is a lifelong occurrence......as long as you have the right book. 

Yes, reading is something that I never lost my desire for.  I still don't leave the house without a book or my Kindle, and I seldom go a day without finishing at least one chapter before bedtime.  I don't know if all this reading has helped to make me a better writer, but I like to think it has helped make me a better thinker, a more vivid dreamer, and more inclined to explore the questions and ideas that fascinate and perplex me.  Whenever I develop an interest in something, my first inclination is to find a book about it.  Whenever I find out a movie I've just seen is based on a true story, I have a strong urge to find the book it was based on.  Books, to me, are priceless.  And as much as I love the convenience of my Kindle, turning the pages of a real book is one of the most satisfying feelings in the world. 

I will celebrate Valentine's Day with my husband and my two adorable beagles.  We will take an evening walk through the park, come home and barbeque steaks, drink some wine, and cuddle on the couch watching TV for most of the night.  And during the commercial breaks?  I'll be flipping through the pages of one of the three books I'm currently reading.  Just me, Dean, the beagles.....and a book.  Nothing like spending Valentine's Day with all the ones you love. 

Stop the spinning

Remember being a little kid, and playing the spinning game?  Maybe it wasn't really much of a game, but I always used to get a thrill out of it.  The rules were simple.  You spin around as fast as you can for as long as you can and try not to end up on the floor.  The whole spinning thing itself was thrilling because you would start out slow, gradually gaining speed, and before long you could barely control how fast you were going, in fact it was often difficult for your feet to keep up with the rest of your body.  As a kid, this was entertainment.  As an adult, this is nauseating. 

I am absolutely a control freak, and I have a really hard time relying on others to get things done as opposed to just doing them myself.  This also means I'm not the most patient person in the world.  In fact the waiting game drives me to the brink of insanity. Literally.  Insanity. 

Right now I feel like I am at the beginning of the spinning game.  Things are starting out slow and while I'm trying to get ahead with various projects, I am also playing the waiting game which (to my ultimate frustration) I'm afraid is going to ultimately destroy me.  Pretty soon I know I'm going to be smack dab in the middle of the spins....where the speed keeps increasing and I'm trying desperately to keep up.  I'm also afraid that I won't be able to keep up, and will end up flat on my face. 

How did you like that analogy?

Because of my well known history to over think and over analyze, I'm hoping that I'll get my act together soon and feel a bit more in control (there's that word again....)  Something is just off right now and I can't seem to stop myself from stressing out and worrying about every little thing.  Normally I can take this stuff in stride, with confidence and a more or less positive attitude, but these past few weeks have been unnecessarily rough, and I feel like I've had a permanent knot in my stomach, overly exhausted from worry. 

I realize this is all a bit vague, and for those who crave details I'm sorry I'm not disclosing them.  Rest assured that story is not juicy, or even very interesting.  Basically it all comes back to work, and we know how much fun it is to listen to someone whine about their job, which is why I'm not going down that road.  

So yes, work is the short answer to the reason I'm feeling this way, but underneath I think there's more.  Yes, there are things on the surface that are causing me to feel this lack of control and constant worry, but something tells me there are things under the surface that could be contributing as well.  I just hope I'm able to get everything resolved before the spinning really starts.  

Email Etiquette

Like many people these days, I write and receive a lot of email.  It has become the go-to communication source because of its speed and convenience, and it's a pretty easy communication medium to use.  So yea, email is great.  But some of the people writing emails?  Not so great. 

I've been writing letters, notes, cards, all sorts of different messages for a long time.  And regardless of the purpose of the message or who I am writing to, I always try to adhere to a certain amount of etiquette in each one.  Maybe it's just my personality style, maybe it's just an inborn habit at this point, but I feel like that's just the right thing to do.  There are just certain things that you should and should not do, in emails especially, because they are either inappropriate or they just downright annoying.  Allow me, please, to elaborate. 

Email Response--do it in a timely manner

I usually give myself 24 hours to respond to an email, or to at least acknowledge that I have received the message and am working on an appropriate response.  Obviously there are some instances where this rule doesn't apply, but as a general guideline I think 24 hours is acceptable.  I truly cannot stand people who like to make you wait, and wait, and wait for an email response.  I understand that things come up.  I understand that people go out of town (which, subsequently, are what out of office replies are for).  But I don't think it's asking too much for at least an acknowledgement, a quick reply of "I'll get back with more detail on such and such a date."  Sure, they probably won't get back to you on that date, but at least you know they received your message and are (you hope) working on a reply.  This is a little something I like to call "good manners."  

Carbon Copy--use wisely.  No really, use WISELY

There is nothing more annoying than being involved in an email chain of communication that has absolutely nothing to do with you.  I will sometimes get copied on messages that I spend a full five minutes looking at, wondering why the hell someone felt I needed to be involved with a topic that doesn't apply to me.  Then of course comes the internal struggle.  Do I respond to this message?  Do they expect me to respond?  Should I save this for future reference?  And the one question that really gets to me....Did I forget about something really important?

Reply All--it's pretty self explanatory.  So think before you click. 

This one kind of ties in with the carbon copy issue.  Nobody wants to get a million and one replies to a message that was sent to a million and one people.  Especially with the responses are all directed at one person in the group.  This comes into play a lot with List Servs....and with people who just don't think before clicking that "reply all" button.  Seriously folks, unless your question or thought is directed at the entire group, stick to a one-on-one response. 

Niceties--don't be afraid to use them

I'm not saying your email needs to be overflowing with compliments and kiss ass phrasing, but is it really so hard to close with a "Thank you!"  Or "Have a nice day!"  Something....you know, nice??  It always rubs me the wrong way when I receive a message that doesn't contain anything like this.  It's just so clinical, and reading emails like this make people sound a bit rude, which I'm sure isn't the tone they were going for.  I try to keep this in mind and not take it personal, but it always makes me feel better when there is some kind of pleasantry either at the beginning or the end of a message.  I don't care if it's genuine or just going through the motions.  It's email, for goodness sake.  I can't tell the difference. 

Use A Signature--it sounds silly, but it makes such a difference

Want to have a phone conversation with the person you have been emailing the past couple weeks?  Need to fax them something, or send something in the mail?  All these things are so much easier to do if the information is included in the email signature.  It saves so much time and frustration, especially if you have to go back and contact someone months after the fact.  That email signature can sometimes be a saving grace.  

Double Check Your Recipients--it could save your job

This is more of a guideline than an annoyance.  I use Outlook for my work email, which is handy because it remembers the email addresses of anyone I have ever, ever sent a message to.  Of course, if you aren't paying attention you could end up inserting an email address that is similar to the person you meant to message.....but is actually a completely different person.  Do yourself a favor and double check who you are sending something to.  Even if it's something small, it can still be rather embarrassing.  Also, depending on what and whom you are emailing, it could be detrimental to your job.     

On that first cup of coffee

When I first started drinking coffee I had no idea what I was doing.  I was living out of my parent's house for the first time, I was in college, so I just kind of figured drinking coffee was something I should start doing.  I had a cute little Mr. Coffee One Cup that I thought I knew how to use, and while I had no idea exactly what kind of coffee I liked, I was ready to start getting caffeinated.  I can even remember my first experience buying creamer.....I bought the powder stuff because I didn't know any better and quickly realized that I needed to head to the refrigerated section for the really good stuff.  My first home brewed cup was.....interesting to say the least.  It was also short lived, because soon after one of my friends introduced me to mocha frappachinos at Starbucks and that was all she wrote. 

Flash forward to present day, and I am most definitely a coffee drinker, and a coffee lover.  Coffee is as much a part of my morning routine as brushing my teeth, and if there's anything to take the edge off of waking up at 5 a.m. it's a nice hot cup of strong coffee.  No matter what day of the week, no matter what time I get up, that very first cup of coffee is something I savor and look forward to.  The second (and sometimes third) are still good, but they aren't nearly as good as the first go round.  Maybe it's a psychological thing, maybe it's a taste bud thing, but hands down, you just can't beat that first cup. 

While I love coffee, I can't drink it all day long.  In fact, my coffee intake is down from it's normal levels.  Only slightly down, but lower nonetheless.  I used to consume a cup of jo before getting on the treadmill every morning, which maybe sounds silly but I thought it was a good way to try and wake up my brain before the sweat started pouring.  Since the first of the year, however, I've cut out that first cup before exercising and instead fill up my travel mug to bring with me to work.  It's like delayed gratification, and there is something to be said for spending that first hour or so at work sipping on my coffee while perusing through emails.  It helps take the edge off.  Helps me ease into the day ahead. 

On a normal day (which is just about every single day), that is all the coffee I will drink.  As much as I love coffee, I find that as the day progresses the appeal of having a cup goes down for me.....it just doesn't sound good.  Maybe a lot of people are like this, but judging from the large number of cars I always see at Starbucks there's also quite a few out there who are not.  I don't think one is necessarily better than the other.....just a personal observation. 

Coffee has become part of my morning ritual, and one that I look forward to in order to get the day started right.  The smell, the taste, the warmth when it hits your stomach and immediately procures that "ahhh" sensation.  Coffee brings a bit of solace to my world, however short lived and fleeting it might be.  And in this increasingly imperfect world, that's truly something to be thankful for.

Alone time

All marriages consist of give and take.  And compromise.  Lots and lots of compromise.  One of the truths I have come to accept about my marriage is that Dean will not eat tuna and noodles.  It's not a dish he enjoys, and anytime I even mention the words "tuna" and "noodles" in the same sentence a discernible scowl takes over his face.  Let's just say the food brings back some childhood memories in which he ate way too much Tuna Helper.  Apparently it scarred him for life. 

So.  I have a husband who hates tuna and noodles, while I on the other hand love this meal.  Maybe I love it now more than I used to because I never get to eat it, but it pains me every time I get a craving and realize that the other person in the house whom I'm feeding won't even touch the stuff.  So to keep the peace and avoid cooking two dinners, this is a meal we generally never have. 

Now, a slight switch in topic that is still related to the tuna and noodles.  I'm sure that most people in most marriages look forward to that ever elusive alone time.  This is that special treat that comes when you don't necessarily want to be separated from your spouse, but because you are you may as well make the best of it.  This is what I will be faced with this weekend, when my husband leaves for one night to go ice fishing.  Because my idea of fun does not involve standing on a frozen lake in the middle of winter waiting hours for a fish to bite, I will be staying home with my beagles, and taking full advantage of my alone time. 

Number one thing at the top of my list, you may ask?  Cooking up a batch of tuna and noodles.  With Dean off playing in the ice, I have free reign of the kitchen and can cook my tuna and noodles without any judgements or complaints.  I can also finally start watching the third season of Downton Abbey and have a marathon reading session without any interruptions, or requests to change the channel because somewhere on some station a sports program is probably playing. 

Please don't mistake my words for complaining.  I'm simply pointing out the wonderfulness of alone time, and how even when we love our husbands/wives, it's still nice to have some time that is strictly for us, when we don't have to compromise or worry about giving and taking, but instead can just focus on ourselves and have that third helping of tuna and noodles while we wait to find out whether Bates is going to be released from prison (which, my sources tell me, has not happened yet.....)

Every now and then, everyone needs a tiny morsel of alone time.  For me, one night is just enough time to start missing my husband and start getting excited for his return home.  It's also just enough time to gorge on tuna and noodles before I'm ready to again start cooking husband approved dinners. 

It's the little things like this that make life grand.  

How much stuff is too much?

How much stuff do two people really need?  This weekend during the great storage closet remodel and mini-mud room creation, I was faced with that question numerous times.  When the project was complete and it was finally time to move all our boxes and bins back into the closet, I realized that we are literally overflowing with "stuff."

My husband and I are only two people.  We have a four bedroom house and each closet in our house, even the newly remodeled one, are filled to more or less max capacity.  How is this possible?  How can two people need that many items?

The truth is we absolutely don't need that many things, and while we did make quite the haul to Good Will in an effort to create more space, that doesn't change the fact that a lot got left behind.  A lot of "stuff."  We have certainly accumulated a staggering number of possessions since we moved into our first apartment together, a 2-bedroom 1-bathroom summertime sauna apartment with a measly two closets and a living room window that didn't open.  I'd say we have definitely upgraded, and our stockpile has absolutely multiplied. 

I'm not even sure how it happens, this stockpiling of things and random items that you store away and forget about for years on end.  I'm sure we're not the only ones faced with this dilemma.  And I'm sure at some point down the road we'll do another overhaul and get rid of more and more things, only to replace them with seemingly newer and better things.  This seems to be the process, doesn't it?  The sad part is I've always considered myself to be a minimalist, but looking at my closets this past weekend painted an entirely different story.

So in the back of my mind, I'm going to think very carefully from now on before I store something away in the closet.  It's time to start being proactive, and honest, in assessing which items should be kept and which should find a home somewhere else.  On the bright side, our storage closet looks amazing and our new mini-mud room is simply lovely.  And for the time being, all the "stuff" is more or less in order.        

Chit chat

Aside from how much it costs, I love getting my hair cut.  I especially love a good cut and color, one where you can really notice the difference from the before to the after.  I embrace change (most of the time) and find changing my outward appearance to be something of a cathartic experience.  

I have been frequenting the same salon for about six years now and have pretty much gotten the whole hair cut routine down pat.  I'm comfortable with my stylist and the environment of the salon, I know what to expect when I go in for an appointment, and I have always been pleased with the results and the service I receive.  However, there is one aspect of the whole hair cut ritual that I always struggle with, and that is the chit chatting. 

Now remember, I'm a self-proclaimed introvert so this obviously contributes to my struggle, but the whole chat bit involved with getting my hair done usually drains me.  Not to say that my stylist isn't a lovely person who is hard to talk to because that definitely isn't the case, it's just that chatting for the sake of chatting isn't really my thing.  It is, however, part of the whole haircut thing, meaning that like it or not, I have to participate.  Or at least attempt to participate. 

I've only been seeing this stylist for my last four or five appointments, so while we are definitely past the basic get to know you stage, we haven't quite hit the groove that I had with my last stylist, who did my hair for a good four years or more.  I know that talking to clients and keeping up conversation is practically a requirement for any beautician, so I myself feel obligated to talk and ask questions, sometimes more for their sake than for mine.  The crappy thing about that is that most of the time, I'm not the best conversationalist with people I don't know that well.  I always feel like I come off sounding awkward, like my silence might be interpreted as disinterest.   Sometimes I surprise myself and do great at small talk, other times I just don't have it in me.  I rack my brain for things to say, questions to ask, and some days I come up blank.  Maybe my stylist doesn't care or think it's a big deal, but it causes me some stress.  I mean, I don't want to come off as rude, but I also don't want to say something totally off the wall and sound like an idiot.  So you see, it's a fine line to walk successfully. 

I used to watch my mom at the hairdresser and be totally in awe.  She is such a pro at the talking stuff, she could probably list it as a skill on her resume.  She could keep up conversation not through one, but three haircuts.  These were the days when she, my sister and I would all go to our appointments together, and she and our hairdresser would just rattle on and on from one topic to the other.  Of course, it probably helped that they knew a lot of the same people, had known each other for many years, all that kind of stuff.  Regardless of the reasons, it sure made me a happy camper to just sit there in the chair, stare at myself in the mirror, and listen to them talk back and forth.  When I got older and started going to appointments on my own, during lulls in the conversation I would think back on those images of my mom and her effortless ability to carry on a conversation while getting her hair cut.  I realized it was definitely a lot harder than it looked (and sounded), and that I'd better start practicing. 

While conversation in the hair styling chair still isn't one of my strong suits, I do my best to partake in this ritual of the salon.  And if worse comes to worse, maybe I'll just start bringing my mom with me to hair appointments.....just to take the edge off.