Thursday, November 29, 2012

can't wait.

In just three days I'll be sitting on a plane, headed to a Bestie's wedding. Sun and surf await me. Sand and heat and the occasional shot of tequila await me. The wedding is in Mexico, and will mark my first real-life vacation. Grandiose thanks to Bestie for having a destination wedding! Excitement, while present, is quieted by the busyness of final preparations, as if waiting in a queue for its turn. I joked the other day that by the time Mexico gets here, I will probably fall in a scatter of pieces out the plane door. Anita comments on this thought line:

I don’t know that adults are capable of reveling in the anticipation of going on vacation anymore – our lives are just too busy and any tasting of the excitement is left for the car ride to the airport… and even then you’re wondering if you turned the straightening iron off.

I've got my little suitcase packed with the essentials: bikini, summer dress, sandals. The growing list of things to do before I leave is sorting itself into piles: Must Do and Can Wait. I haven't done laundry in a month: Must Do. I have to clean under the stove: Can Wait. I haven't called home in awhile: Must Do. My Christmas shopping is incomplete: Can Wait.

THE FLU OF ALL FLUS is going around the office. I've had my flu shot - am I immune? Or will I spend the plane ride convulsing in the tiny bathroom? Will I loathe the beach and long for the cool porcelain of the bathroom floor? Only God knows, and only he can intervene. I can pray and drink fluids and go to bed on time. Must Do.

I am certain my calendar knows I'm going on vacation, and even more certain it's not pleased with me. Rebellion comes in the form of speeding clocks, and pen mark after pen mark after pen mark; reminders, lists, appointments, and a few failed attempts: GYM, laundry, laundry, GYM, laundry!!

How blissful it will be to shut the book for awhile, to take space; to let someone else take notes and keep order while I sip dewy beverages and hold my favorite hand and watch the sun set over the ocean.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012


photo via pinterest

What I know of  God:

He speaks quietly.
He makes ears to hear loud noises first.
He likes carrots.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

untrue things

You know, it's possible to over analyze to the point of well-kempt-paralysis. Where is the sun? I ask. And why is everyone so mean to me? A tiny voice contributes: They're not; you just haven't figured out how to take your vitamin D pills and go to bed on time. I encourage the tiny voice by sipping one-third-sweet peppermint mochas and firing spiral shaped emails to Anita at alarming speed. I drown it out by over spending, and choosing bustle over solitude. I listen to my friends and what they think of me; they sound so much like the tiny voice.

I feel like I'm waiting for something. What it is, I could guess to tell you. Maybe I want the years reversed. In my head, I took care of my leaking car and the resulting spores 2 years ago. In my head, I learned money young. I've eaten a lot of snacks since I was a teen, had a plethora of successful thrift store trips, managed to stay afloat financially, and had good luck by delaying certain consequences. Now as an adult, during a sunless winter, I feel bent under the weight of it all. It's as if the gremlins have been waiting in the shadows, tying their wrists together, so they could catch up to me at the same time.

This is a wave, like all the other waves have been, and will pass once I get this feeling off my chest. The image in my head is a cartoon version of me, climbing a smooth ice wall with skates on. The tiny voice's throat clears, a pair of hands turn the image, and I am skating. Maybe tomorrow I'll be skating. If only I knew how.

For now I want a re-do, a personality transplant, the ability to give up my grip on the remote control. I want a spirit guide, a guru, a mentor's voice. I want God. I want to feel smart and not regretful. I want my hands to make something beautiful, my will to do right by me, and my heart to let go the burden of untruth; though my knees wobble.

I have done some things well - this I strive to remember. There is so much I am not, but so much much more that I am, and am proud of, and bring to the world. If I ever forget this, there are a hundred tiny voices to remind me; in the form of friends, old letters, newly spoken words, sunny day remnants, sent jokes, and memories in my spirit. They produce hands and steady the picture for me, helping me forward, as I learn to step over the untrue things.

photo by Lukas Kozmus. Found on Colossal.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

kitty litter for the win

If, perchance, your vehicle happens to be a dud - a dud which leaks, fills your trunk with water, soaks your backseats through, and puddles on the floor - you should know that kitty litter will solve at least some of your problems. Kitty litter and a shop vac, that is. Oh, and the $$ required to fix the leaks. This must be why people don't spend all their money on clothes and tasty treats. Huh. Duly noted; will add to the budget (and stick to it) next time around. In the meantime, I will continue to turn my car into a cat's toilet. Please keep your cats away from my car.

Other benefits of having kitty litter all over the back half of your vehicle:

- The moldy-mildewy smell is gone! For the most part!
- It's a pretty blue color when it gets wet
- "You can also use it as a bathroom" says Aaron.

Saturday, November 17, 2012

three bads = endless goods

If your morning should happen to go like this:

1. Forget to set alarm, sleep in, two hours late for work.
2. Find out shortly after (late) arrival that the clock has begun to tick on blissful lovely learning opportunity. Monday to Friday, clock-watched, mind-numbing routine commencing in three, two...
3. Splurged on an expensive coffee. Only to receive the wrong drink. Only to discover once already (late) at work.

Don't forget the following things:

1. You have a bed! And a roof! And a car to speed in! And a job to be late for!
2. Paychecks are still in order.
3. This is definitely a first world problem.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

pointers, for the month of consumerism and excess

1. When it comes to buying presents, be considerate and diligent in your mental preparation. Think about the recipient in all aspects: what patterns are they drawn to, what do they talk about when it rains, how often do they shower, what is their favorite kind of tea. Other considerations: is this person funny or boring? Does this person wear deodorant? Have I ever seen this person naked? Purchase gift accordingly.

1b. If you have thought and thought but still can't think of anything to get the person, you have two options. One: close your eyes, walk three feet to your left, and pick something up with your left hand. This is their present. Option Two: buy something you like. Depending on your relationship with said recipient, you may be allowed to borrow the item on occasion. Your friend gets to share, and you get to pretend you bought them a great present. It's a win win.

2. There are two secrets to getting through your third helping of turkey dinner alive. Secret number one: grapes. Eat lots and lots of grapes about two hours before dinner, all at once. Do this again an hour before dinner. Your stomach will expand, but you won't be full because grapes digest quickly. Secret number two (that you probably knew already): low waisted pants.

3. When your boss and/or coworkers bombard you with boxes of chocolates in the weeks before the holidays, don't panic. Take them home, careful not to disturb any of the paper (or, if they are unwrapped: wrap them). Make gift tags and give them away as presents, or to your host/hostess when you arrive at dinner. You just saved yourself a whole lot of cash and at least five pounds of angry holiday weight.

4. It is appropriate to attend craft fairs and Christmas markets in search of the perfect present. It is not appropriate to spend all the money you reserved for purchasing gifts at the fair/market on yourself. It is appropriate to spend lots of money on yourself, so long as you continue telling yourself you are "shopping for other people."

5. Remember, if you spend January's paycheck on post-Christmas sales, you did not "save money".

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

poem envy: Kimberly Kaye

Still one of the best poems I've ever read. Halts me every time.

"Unsaid, While You Were Angrily Cleaning Up Dinner"
by Kimberly Kaye

I'm sorry I don't save words for you. I try to,
each morning, plug up and reserve something.
Mostly by day's end the best drain out.
The first of the day are barely worth speaking.
I croak them to baristas and doormen,
to women whose purses take up entire train seats;
sometimes, I practice on bosses.
Then "love" goes to my father, and "why" flies to my mother,
and expletives dart to tourists who halt mid-step
on the sidewalk. Loosed by noon,
phrases marked yours slide by. That joke.
That compliment. That piece of honesty.
They slip into the ears of others and I don't stop them.
Sometimes I pull a few to the side,
apples at the weigh station, perfect pearls for stringing,
but God, they age so quickly.
I wish they weren't so limp when handed over.
And of course the best ones--
the things I mean, things you need, the way I mean to say them--
struggle to survive in open air.
Written down on paper they seem trite. Which is best,
since I'd feather you in Post-It notes otherwise.
So read them in my face. Study the way I slip a finger in your palm
and trace avenues there.
Listen how I ask for nothing.
Let an egg, broken in a pan and poached in oil for you, speak.

Monday, November 12, 2012

A definative and finalized list of Oprah's Favorite Things

photo stolen from here

Something I know you've all been waiting for, and the results have come back. Let's skip the ado: here is the final, comprehensive, full and extensive list of Oprah's favorite things.

List Item #1: Oprah