Over the summer hardly anyone visited at all. Which was fine, fine, totally fine as we settled into our whole new life. I almost think that people could sense my need to be in my healing cocoon for a while. Or maybe it's just because I didn't call anyone and barely went online.
As fall turned the woods golden I sent a general invitation over facebook to anyone interested in visiting, offering our acreage as an afternoon's urban refuge. I have been surprised and pleased and honestly amazed by who this has seemingly brought out of the wood work and back into my life.
I have also been surprised by who is hasn't. But no worries. All in due time.
Each visit has been super wonderful and I have been enjoying them so much. I hope they continue to pop up, like winter wildflowers.
Pause. I need stuffing and sweet potatoes for, er, brunch. Resume! Also? YUM!
I would like to take this opportunity to thank who ever came up with the crazy idea to put butter, onion, celery and bread crumbs inside a turkey before roasting it. Holy jeez. I don't know how you came up with it and I don't care. Thank you, just thank you.
I have been visited by old co-workers and friends I haven't seen in years and years. People that I never socialized with much in the ATL. Not sure why I never did, they were there, I was there, we enjoy each other. It just never really happened. I suspect part of it was being in a tight-ish circle of friends in the city, something I don't have here.
But really maybe it's better this way. In Atlanta my schedule was always overbooked and I never left myself any margins, as a sweet co-worker put it. I would leave lunch with one friend to arrive late at my next engagement. Here friends can linger. There's not much to do so we take our time not doing it. We eat a leisurely meal, slowly walk the property while I explain our long term plans or latest planting. We sip tea and catch up, allowing the conversation to meander. I'm not saying that I was always in a rush in the city, but it sure felt/seemed like it sometimes. I'm not saying that I never had a decent visit with anyone there either. It's just different here, now. Maybe I'm different?
Whatever the cause I'm glad and I welcome many many visitors and visits to come. I'll have the wood stove hot when you get here. :)
Monday, November 29, 2010
visits and reflections
On Saturday morning, before work, Frandz and I slipped over to Gainesvegas for a quick visit with M&M, visiting from IN. M&M are part of the family that I chose. Or at least the family that I am not blood kin to.
Since M&M live about a 10 hour drive away I don't get to see them near as often as I'd like/need to. Thus a two hour round trip drive to have breakfast is totally worth it. We do our best to keep up over the phone but there's nothing like a gut-busting squeeze to really get the love and the conversation flowing.
For me the holidays are always a time of reflection. This is a good way to avoid all the holiday stuff I am supposed to be doing. Like shopping and planning and crafting and baking etc. I can't right now, I'm too busy reflecting. But really, I think the colder darker months are ideal for introspection. If you're lucky enough to have a dear friend to share these observations with, like I am, you do when you get the chance.
So M and I sat there digging deep as quickly as we could while M2 and Frandz went to get an xmas tree for M's mom in The Colonel (you should have heard her squeal with delight when she saw the tree resting prone, still wrapped, in the yard). We wondered at how quickly 2010 has gone by, how it's already the holidays again so quickly. How our 30's have brought new perspective on time and life. We discussed where we were a year ago, emotionally, physically, with our relationships, our jobs. We saw how far we have come and glimpsed how far we have to go. If you had told me in early October of 2009 that by November 2010 I would be living in a doublewide in rural N GA with an amazing man other than my then husband, with a different job and a whole new life I would have told you that you should not have done so much acid in high school. Yet here I am.
Despite how many times something similar has happened (like try traveling back in time and telling college me that I would some day run a toy store in a museum, she would have laughed herself hoarse with disbelief) I always stand in awe when it happens again. My life continues to be an amazing journey, as new petals open to reveal new lives. All I ask is that the universe send me love and something less ordinary. Again and again it does, in ways I never would or could have imagined. Again and again I learn to surrender to all the twists and turns, and all the magic they hold. I know I never could have planned this life but I am so happy to live it.
My moments with M always seem fleeting, even when we have several days together. Our morning together was over faster than you can scarf a plate of IHOP hash browns and we were squeeeeeeeezing each other good bye (one more squeeze!) until xmas.
I meant to write a witty maybe even snarky Thanksgiving post. The holidays stir my anxiety like little else. But I really am so deeply and powerfully grateful everyday for all the people that love me, so much, all the time. I am so honored to have each of them in my life, to be able to love them back. I am so grateful to all the people who gave me heart felt thanks for working on Thanksgiving, which made working it an effortless gift to give. I am so grateful, despite the pain and confusion that came with it, that the universe sent me this wonderful, healing, nurturing, dream-fulfilling life I am living now.
Since M&M live about a 10 hour drive away I don't get to see them near as often as I'd like/need to. Thus a two hour round trip drive to have breakfast is totally worth it. We do our best to keep up over the phone but there's nothing like a gut-busting squeeze to really get the love and the conversation flowing.
For me the holidays are always a time of reflection. This is a good way to avoid all the holiday stuff I am supposed to be doing. Like shopping and planning and crafting and baking etc. I can't right now, I'm too busy reflecting. But really, I think the colder darker months are ideal for introspection. If you're lucky enough to have a dear friend to share these observations with, like I am, you do when you get the chance.
So M and I sat there digging deep as quickly as we could while M2 and Frandz went to get an xmas tree for M's mom in The Colonel (you should have heard her squeal with delight when she saw the tree resting prone, still wrapped, in the yard). We wondered at how quickly 2010 has gone by, how it's already the holidays again so quickly. How our 30's have brought new perspective on time and life. We discussed where we were a year ago, emotionally, physically, with our relationships, our jobs. We saw how far we have come and glimpsed how far we have to go. If you had told me in early October of 2009 that by November 2010 I would be living in a doublewide in rural N GA with an amazing man other than my then husband, with a different job and a whole new life I would have told you that you should not have done so much acid in high school. Yet here I am.
Despite how many times something similar has happened (like try traveling back in time and telling college me that I would some day run a toy store in a museum, she would have laughed herself hoarse with disbelief) I always stand in awe when it happens again. My life continues to be an amazing journey, as new petals open to reveal new lives. All I ask is that the universe send me love and something less ordinary. Again and again it does, in ways I never would or could have imagined. Again and again I learn to surrender to all the twists and turns, and all the magic they hold. I know I never could have planned this life but I am so happy to live it.
My moments with M always seem fleeting, even when we have several days together. Our morning together was over faster than you can scarf a plate of IHOP hash browns and we were squeeeeeeeezing each other good bye (one more squeeze!) until xmas.
I meant to write a witty maybe even snarky Thanksgiving post. The holidays stir my anxiety like little else. But I really am so deeply and powerfully grateful everyday for all the people that love me, so much, all the time. I am so honored to have each of them in my life, to be able to love them back. I am so grateful to all the people who gave me heart felt thanks for working on Thanksgiving, which made working it an effortless gift to give. I am so grateful, despite the pain and confusion that came with it, that the universe sent me this wonderful, healing, nurturing, dream-fulfilling life I am living now.
fight for your right.. to cuddle
I have a tiny dog and I'm proud of it. People like to hate on tiny dogs but I don't care. Sadie is fantastic. She is also so quirky that sometimes I think she may really be from outer space. Which is just one more sign we are meant to be together.
From day one Sadie had full cuddle and furniture privileges with me. In my mind half the reason for having a dog is cuddling. Sadie and I have spent many long hours in a warm heap on the couch or all curled up in the bed. It would be clear to the most casual observer that we each provide the other with considerable comfort. I even let her sleep under the covers. Not under the sheet, where I was sleeping. But under the comforter. She would sleep smushed up against my leg, as if her life depended on having as much of her little body pressed hard against mine as possible.
Then Frandz and I got together. He said no dogs on the couch no dogs in the bed. He is from the dogs-should-work-or-they-are-useless camp and dogs-are-animals-not-people camp (duh, dogs aren't people they're beoble). His family used to breed and train hunting dogs. We just see the whole dog thing from different angles. I have worked creatively to demonstrate that Sadie is a "working" dog. She cleans the floor, kills bugs and is an effective alarm system. None the less I gave in to the no dogs on the bed thing. He said that dog hair in the bed was just gross. Fair enough. As much as I love to cuddle that tiny dog I love to cuddle people more. Especially Frandz. And not letting the dog in the bed also means the dog never barfing in the bed again either. Win!
I did continue to allow the dogs on the couch, with a blanket beneath them, since "the hairs are itchy" until I got about 700 billion chigger bites this summer. Never again.
Frandz had won the dog-free furniture feud and was not about to let go of an inch of human-only territory. The dogs learned quickly that even attempting to get on the couch equaled bellowing.
I complied with this cuddlelessness for months. Honestly cuddling on the floor is not where it's at. I swear I could see the hurt in Sadie's tiny, buggy, brown eyes as I denied her couch cuddles again and again. She was confused too. I could hear her doggie voice asking me "what ever have I done to fall from your warm, cuddle graces?"
So one recent chilly night, as I watched my tiny dog sit pitifully at my feet, shivering despite wearing her adorable tiny hoodie, I decided to take a stand. Why was I letting Frandz dictate my relationship with my dog? Surely a compromise could be found. I got out a blanket and invited Sadie onto the couch, protecting the seat from little itchy hairs. She timidly yet enthusiastically leapt into my arms, clearly unsure whether or not she was really allowed but overjoyed to cuddle and be warm. She curled up next to me, shoving herself up against me as hard as she could. Maximum power cudds.
When Frandz came home he grumbled but I was able to state my case and stand my ground effectively. To Sadie's credit she seems to understand that she is only allowed on the couch with me and with the blanket. I'm pretty sure she would hear and recognize the sound of the unfolding the blanket from Bangladesh and be sitting excitedly at my feet, waiting for my invitational pat, before I could get the blanket completely spread out.
And here we sit together now, warm and snug. One of her ears draped over the edge of my laptop. As we should be.
From day one Sadie had full cuddle and furniture privileges with me. In my mind half the reason for having a dog is cuddling. Sadie and I have spent many long hours in a warm heap on the couch or all curled up in the bed. It would be clear to the most casual observer that we each provide the other with considerable comfort. I even let her sleep under the covers. Not under the sheet, where I was sleeping. But under the comforter. She would sleep smushed up against my leg, as if her life depended on having as much of her little body pressed hard against mine as possible.
Then Frandz and I got together. He said no dogs on the couch no dogs in the bed. He is from the dogs-should-work-or-they-are-useless camp and dogs-are-animals-not-people camp (duh, dogs aren't people they're beoble). His family used to breed and train hunting dogs. We just see the whole dog thing from different angles. I have worked creatively to demonstrate that Sadie is a "working" dog. She cleans the floor, kills bugs and is an effective alarm system. None the less I gave in to the no dogs on the bed thing. He said that dog hair in the bed was just gross. Fair enough. As much as I love to cuddle that tiny dog I love to cuddle people more. Especially Frandz. And not letting the dog in the bed also means the dog never barfing in the bed again either. Win!
I did continue to allow the dogs on the couch, with a blanket beneath them, since "the hairs are itchy" until I got about 700 billion chigger bites this summer. Never again.
Frandz had won the dog-free furniture feud and was not about to let go of an inch of human-only territory. The dogs learned quickly that even attempting to get on the couch equaled bellowing.
I complied with this cuddlelessness for months. Honestly cuddling on the floor is not where it's at. I swear I could see the hurt in Sadie's tiny, buggy, brown eyes as I denied her couch cuddles again and again. She was confused too. I could hear her doggie voice asking me "what ever have I done to fall from your warm, cuddle graces?"
So one recent chilly night, as I watched my tiny dog sit pitifully at my feet, shivering despite wearing her adorable tiny hoodie, I decided to take a stand. Why was I letting Frandz dictate my relationship with my dog? Surely a compromise could be found. I got out a blanket and invited Sadie onto the couch, protecting the seat from little itchy hairs. She timidly yet enthusiastically leapt into my arms, clearly unsure whether or not she was really allowed but overjoyed to cuddle and be warm. She curled up next to me, shoving herself up against me as hard as she could. Maximum power cudds.
When Frandz came home he grumbled but I was able to state my case and stand my ground effectively. To Sadie's credit she seems to understand that she is only allowed on the couch with me and with the blanket. I'm pretty sure she would hear and recognize the sound of the unfolding the blanket from Bangladesh and be sitting excitedly at my feet, waiting for my invitational pat, before I could get the blanket completely spread out.
And here we sit together now, warm and snug. One of her ears draped over the edge of my laptop. As we should be.
prepare for the surge
I am discovering what should have already been apparent. I am not real good about writing when I have to work. But I love to write and write when I don't! Woot!
Since I worked the whole time that many folks call thanksgiving weekend (Wed.-Sun.) there was little writing. Whatever time I had off the clock was used to squeeze in time with friends and fam or recuperate for the next shift. When I got home from work on turkey day I didn't even bother to microwave my leftover dinner (my second plate, that is, because I had an eye/hand coordination fail dropped my first one on the floor). When I got home from working a double Friday I actually sat on the couch with my feet in a bus tub full of hot (damn hot!, like stupid crazy hot, like Frandz had to go get me some ice cubes hot) water and epsom salt. Frandz was really great about it, much better than I would have been were the situation reversed, and did all he could to make my time at home relaxing and cozy. He even built a giant fire so when I came home to an empty house Saturday night (GA/GA Tech game didn't come on at our house) it was nice and toasty for me. I heart that man so hard.
Just because it's laughable here is all the writing I did in the last 5 or 6 days:
Unfinished post #1
the holidays, sheesh
The holidays are rushing at my like a mack truck.
Unfinished post #2
things I'm thankful for
I have so many things to be thankful for. bunches.
These are just a few
So yeah.
But now I have the day off and I intend to post my little heart out, at least all morning. I just chugged my pint of coffee, I should have savored and sipped, but now I am all jacked up! The fire is roaring, it's not 52* in here anymore. I can feel my fingers! Now I just have to decide what to write!
Since I worked the whole time that many folks call thanksgiving weekend (Wed.-Sun.) there was little writing. Whatever time I had off the clock was used to squeeze in time with friends and fam or recuperate for the next shift. When I got home from work on turkey day I didn't even bother to microwave my leftover dinner (my second plate, that is, because I had an eye/hand coordination fail dropped my first one on the floor). When I got home from working a double Friday I actually sat on the couch with my feet in a bus tub full of hot (damn hot!, like stupid crazy hot, like Frandz had to go get me some ice cubes hot) water and epsom salt. Frandz was really great about it, much better than I would have been were the situation reversed, and did all he could to make my time at home relaxing and cozy. He even built a giant fire so when I came home to an empty house Saturday night (GA/GA Tech game didn't come on at our house) it was nice and toasty for me. I heart that man so hard.
Just because it's laughable here is all the writing I did in the last 5 or 6 days:
Unfinished post #1
the holidays, sheesh
The holidays are rushing at my like a mack truck.
Unfinished post #2
things I'm thankful for
I have so many things to be thankful for. bunches.
These are just a few
So yeah.
But now I have the day off and I intend to post my little heart out, at least all morning. I just chugged my pint of coffee, I should have savored and sipped, but now I am all jacked up! The fire is roaring, it's not 52* in here anymore. I can feel my fingers! Now I just have to decide what to write!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
walk notes
a shy moon rose demurely behind lacy brown branches that twinkled with copper leaves
her face was full and creamy like custard
the sky framing her was such a quiet shade of blue
only her peachy edges made certain it was not mistaken for white
the sky she faced was skim milk poured over cognac,
mellow, golden and smooth and still
light and color shimmering
where orange and chalky blue combined
so intensely they seemed to vibrate
her face was full and creamy like custard
the sky framing her was such a quiet shade of blue
only her peachy edges made certain it was not mistaken for white
the sky she faced was skim milk poured over cognac,
mellow, golden and smooth and still
light and color shimmering
where orange and chalky blue combined
so intensely they seemed to vibrate
the secret time capsule
Unpacking is so EMPOWERING!!! Did you feel that energy blast I just sent you?!
Yeah.
I know. (raises eyebrows really high)
I appear to have unintentionally left myself a time capsule. It was a secret, even from me. As I have moved and traveled and passed through different phases of my life I have left various unpacked, partially unpacked, jumbled containers and boxes of cards, postcards, ticket stubs, letters, art supplies, journals and sketchpads in various stages of use, decorations, photographs, blank postcards, books, magazines and the general debris of life at my folks house. I have also moved some of these boxes with me to some locations, some cities.
Right now I am unpacking a box that I thought was art supplies. Clearly this container was packed, moved with, un and then repacked several times between 2002 and 2005. I have a habit of dating things to the second.
This is my format: 11/20/20 16:39.19.
It's just as pretty as lace to me, all those specific numbers in a line. So as I unpack these boxes, flip through these journals, inspect art supplies, I know exactly what part of my life these item are from. It's like a time stamp.
That's why I love saving ticket stubs. It's a time stamp.
You know exactly when and where you were doing what. It's so easy to use these time stamps as a way to trigger a wealth of other memories, colors, lighting, smells, faces, feelings, sounds, flavors all waterfalling back like a busted open pin~ata.
It's interesting to me that all our devices now do this for us automatically.
I think this proves that I am part robot (from the future).
The other part is clearly mermaid.
I am so enjoying all the unexpected surprises and discoveries. And I really am making myself purge.
More on my methods soon, they're fairly philosophical, overly intellectualized might be a better description...
First I am going to walk the dags in the remaining slivers of sunlight.
warmth
While the wood stove is amazing at keeping the house warm it doesn't always make sense to build a fire.
1) It can be a little time consuming, especially if you need to gather kindling or chop
2) if the high for the day is going to be higher than say 60*, might as well don a sweater and some slippers and then open the doors when it warms up, why waste the wood?
3) More fires means more ashes to scoop, and I still haven't decided what to with all the ashes
4) If I wake up only an hour before work chances are eating breakfast and washing my face will win out over fire building
So I have started digging out my sweaters, sweatshirts, hoodies and slippers to get me through the fireless times. This time of year always makes me want to buy more hoodies and slippers. The stores are sure to be stocked with appealing new colors and designs. But I have more than I need as it is. And I am trying to get rid of stuff, not add to the heap. This means I will also be mending and patching items that are otherwise perfectly good. I want to wear things to pieces.
Right now I am in a favorite hole-mended big brown wool sweater from college. I had on regular flipflops before but my toes were cold. So I put on my fuzzy shearling flipflops. For reasons I don't completely understand they keep my feet a lot warmer. In both cases my toes are exposed to cold air. Is it the friction with the fuzz? I don't know but it doesn't really matter. My feet are happier.
1) It can be a little time consuming, especially if you need to gather kindling or chop
2) if the high for the day is going to be higher than say 60*, might as well don a sweater and some slippers and then open the doors when it warms up, why waste the wood?
3) More fires means more ashes to scoop, and I still haven't decided what to with all the ashes
4) If I wake up only an hour before work chances are eating breakfast and washing my face will win out over fire building
 |
| note the slight bluish tinge of toenails |
 |
| note the healthy pink color of toenails, indicating warmth also? I need a pedicure |
re-purposed objects project
 |
| benefit of temporary housing: you can write on the walls! |
However, for privacy, you have to remember to close the door to the bedroom. This also creates some awkward moments for Frandz and I... you work that out with your imagination.
Additionally, Frandz and I do not have similar work schedules so inevitably someone ends up with the bathroom light shining in their face when they're trying to sleep, be it 5:30 AM or 11:30 PM. And now that it's cold said bathroom receives precious little heat from the wood stove, being all through the master bedroom and what not. Running a space heater makes no sense when there is no door to hold the tiny heat output in the desired room. And it is damn cold when you get out of the shower.
Until now!
I was determined not to have to buy curtains. The only thing purchased for this project was the dowel. The ring-clips used were purchased over 2 years ago for another project so I feel they qualify as re-purposed.
And the dogs can freely go under them and go in and out as they please. Which they do. I don't know why but they love to come visit me while I am sitting on the can. Maybe because they know I am a captive scratchies giver. Sadie will sometimes even "guard" me and sit facing out, ready to attack anyone who dares disturb my vulnerable potty time.
By re-purposing we have essentially recycled. Which makes me feel a little closer to the earth! I can't wait to re-purpose more stuff!
finally, I know what to do with all this stuff! also? everybody hurts, sometimes
When I was going through my divorce my lawyer advised me to take anything that could be argued as mine or that I might possibly want. A bunch of wonderful people helped me pack because I had to get out of my place on the fly.* Consequently I ended up with a bunch of stuff I don't really know what to do with. I was good about only taking my stuff and wedding present, but a few small items (mugs for example) got packed by well intentioned friends.
When I was in the initial throws of pain and loss from sudden, unexpected divorce I was feeling pretty defiant. I verbalized to many people that I would be selling all the stuff. Deep down this didn't feel quite right. People gave us dishes, housewares etc. as gifts. While I no longer want these things because of the obvious undesirable emotional attachment, to sell these gifts for personal gain just feels icky. That was not the intent of the gifts when they were given and some how seems to dishonor the givers. I just can't imagine someone asking me how I am enjoying their gift to reply " I sold it and bought some CDs." Ew.
So many of the boxes have remained packed while I waited for something to come to me. The right thing to do with them. I thought about distributing the stuff to friends, giving it to the goodwill etc. None of this seemed quite right either. While I don't want to make a profit off these things I don't want them to be a total loss either. I want something good to come from them. I want to make lemonade from the lemon flavored part of my life.
Then last night I had an idea. My X left me while I was in the grips of very real anxiety/depression caused by grief and trauma. I can't fully explain why this triggered his departure and I doubt I ever will. I am at peace with that. Fortunately, I was able to get the support and help I needed for my anxiety from Metropolitan Counseling Services of Atlanta, a group that provides deeply discounted counseling (based on a sliding scale) to those in need. I am going to sell the goodies and donate all the proceeds to MCS.
Check them out here: http://www.mcsatlanta.org
They made a difference for me and I want to help them make a difference in our community. Imagine if selling my stuff could help someone get the help they can't afford and improve their love relationship? Or help them to have a healthier relationship with their child? That's not lemonade, that's lemon meringue pie.
Here's their bit about donating to MCS (from their website):
Your gift to MCS can provide clients a lifeline in these troubling times. MCS fees start at $25 per session, with the average fee being $30. It costs MCS approximately $75 to provide one session. Imagine the difference even a small donation can make!
I will post a link when all the items have be photographed and are ready for sale. I will likely do a physical yard-type sale as well as an online sale.
I also want to take a minute to say that therapy is GREAT! Fight the stigma! "Crazy" people are not the only ones who need therapy (maybe they wouldn't have gone "crazy if they had help sooner?) There doesn't have to be something "wrong" with you to benefit from therapy. I am still going, though not as often, more than a year later. Having an unbiased, kind, supportive therapist really helped me tremendously with the anxiety I was dealing with a year ago, as well as helping me work through some other stuff. It has done nothing but improve my relationships and my self image. More than anything it helps me understand that my feelings are normal, appropriate and healthy. I'm not bottling them up like I used to (like I was doing when my ignored anxiety started surfacing in the form of panic attacks). If you are hurting, or even just feeling meh, please don't let social stigma or finances keep you from getting some support and perspective.
The world is a crazy place. It's ok to seek some sanity.
I truly believe that if therapy was de-stigmatized there would be less divorce and less crazy in the world. Fewer teen shootings and suicides. Maybe even less war.
It's ok to ask for a band-aid when you're bleeding. It's ok to take a sick day when you have a fever. You would never just let yourself bleed all over the place. Nor would you want to spread your germs or make yourself sicker for longer by not getting the rest your body needs to heal. We all need to make it ok to ask for help for the intangible hurts. Their damage is just as concrete and tangible as physical injury and sickness.
Let the healing begin!!
Please buy my stuff to support MCS! Details coming soon.
*X had posted online that he was planning on getting into the apt. while I was out of town and taking what he wanted. I was not about to let him clean me out behind my back, so I moved in about 3 days, on the fly, with the help of at least a dozen amazing friends. I love you each and all and will be forever grateful for the help you gave and light you brought to one of the stormiest and darkest times in my life.
When I was in the initial throws of pain and loss from sudden, unexpected divorce I was feeling pretty defiant. I verbalized to many people that I would be selling all the stuff. Deep down this didn't feel quite right. People gave us dishes, housewares etc. as gifts. While I no longer want these things because of the obvious undesirable emotional attachment, to sell these gifts for personal gain just feels icky. That was not the intent of the gifts when they were given and some how seems to dishonor the givers. I just can't imagine someone asking me how I am enjoying their gift to reply " I sold it and bought some CDs." Ew.
So many of the boxes have remained packed while I waited for something to come to me. The right thing to do with them. I thought about distributing the stuff to friends, giving it to the goodwill etc. None of this seemed quite right either. While I don't want to make a profit off these things I don't want them to be a total loss either. I want something good to come from them. I want to make lemonade from the lemon flavored part of my life.
Then last night I had an idea. My X left me while I was in the grips of very real anxiety/depression caused by grief and trauma. I can't fully explain why this triggered his departure and I doubt I ever will. I am at peace with that. Fortunately, I was able to get the support and help I needed for my anxiety from Metropolitan Counseling Services of Atlanta, a group that provides deeply discounted counseling (based on a sliding scale) to those in need. I am going to sell the goodies and donate all the proceeds to MCS.
Check them out here: http://www.mcsatlanta.org
They made a difference for me and I want to help them make a difference in our community. Imagine if selling my stuff could help someone get the help they can't afford and improve their love relationship? Or help them to have a healthier relationship with their child? That's not lemonade, that's lemon meringue pie.
Here's their bit about donating to MCS (from their website):
Your gift to MCS can provide clients a lifeline in these troubling times. MCS fees start at $25 per session, with the average fee being $30. It costs MCS approximately $75 to provide one session. Imagine the difference even a small donation can make!
- $50 bridges the gap between our lowest fee of $25, and our operating expenses of $75 per session
- $150 provides scholarship funds for 10 sessions for a client who cannot afford even our lowest fee
- $250 provides workbooks and materials for group therapy clients
- $1000 covers our expenses for one client to receive 20 sessions at $25 per hour
I will post a link when all the items have be photographed and are ready for sale. I will likely do a physical yard-type sale as well as an online sale.
I also want to take a minute to say that therapy is GREAT! Fight the stigma! "Crazy" people are not the only ones who need therapy (maybe they wouldn't have gone "crazy if they had help sooner?) There doesn't have to be something "wrong" with you to benefit from therapy. I am still going, though not as often, more than a year later. Having an unbiased, kind, supportive therapist really helped me tremendously with the anxiety I was dealing with a year ago, as well as helping me work through some other stuff. It has done nothing but improve my relationships and my self image. More than anything it helps me understand that my feelings are normal, appropriate and healthy. I'm not bottling them up like I used to (like I was doing when my ignored anxiety started surfacing in the form of panic attacks). If you are hurting, or even just feeling meh, please don't let social stigma or finances keep you from getting some support and perspective.
The world is a crazy place. It's ok to seek some sanity.
I truly believe that if therapy was de-stigmatized there would be less divorce and less crazy in the world. Fewer teen shootings and suicides. Maybe even less war.
It's ok to ask for a band-aid when you're bleeding. It's ok to take a sick day when you have a fever. You would never just let yourself bleed all over the place. Nor would you want to spread your germs or make yourself sicker for longer by not getting the rest your body needs to heal. We all need to make it ok to ask for help for the intangible hurts. Their damage is just as concrete and tangible as physical injury and sickness.
Let the healing begin!!
Please buy my stuff to support MCS! Details coming soon.
*X had posted online that he was planning on getting into the apt. while I was out of town and taking what he wanted. I was not about to let him clean me out behind my back, so I moved in about 3 days, on the fly, with the help of at least a dozen amazing friends. I love you each and all and will be forever grateful for the help you gave and light you brought to one of the stormiest and darkest times in my life.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
harvest time!
I had this past weekend off. Which was brilliant as I expect to be working at least one day per weekend as long as I have my current job. Sigh. But this past weekend was great! We gathered all the pears we could from our previously doomed bradford pear tree.  |
| tiny crunchy tangy little darlings |
 |
A truly satisfying mini farm experience! I just moved my candyland style game piece a little closer to the earth!
unpacking can be avoided no longer
All summer I kept telling myself that I would finish unpacking when it got cold. When it made more sense to be indoors all day/night. When it wasn't 98* inside the house anymore.
Even though its been chilly up here for a while I still somehow found a way to put it off a bit longer. It's called looking for a new job and starting a new job. And then looking for a new job and starting a new job, again... a month later.
A buddy visited not too long ago and encouraged me to finish unpacking. She is right. I hatched a plan today and even made a few illustrations. I have the next 5 steps or so planned out, mostly geared around getting rid of some stuff I know needs to go to create more space for sorting everything else. I am really ready to let go of a bunch of stuff that I have been holding onto, it more ways than one.
It will also be great to dedicate my studio to making art, instead of using as an enormous closet. I might even have a dedication ceremony. Yes. I will. With yarn decorations.
So I just unpacked a trunk that was a high school graduation present from my uncle and aunt. It has lived everywhere I have since I was 18 and frequently been used as a coffee table.
One of the first things I found?
A box of raisins.
From Price Chopper.
Price Chopper.
This is a store I shopped at in upstate NY...in 2004. So yeah. Some of these babies have been packed up for a while.
Other various contents of the trunk:
silk screened art I made in 2001, just before 9/11
socks from the last time I visited Troy and went bowling, the socks say "BOWLING ROCKS!"
It does.
corduroy curtains
a duvet for a comforter I no longer own
scarves, of course
assorted magazine clippings, mostly photos from National Gepgraphic
a measuring cup and an off-set spatula
weird socks, including several pairs of toe socks
I am proud to tell you that I now have a trash bag full of stuff. And that I have moved the items I am saving for the time being to the appropriate places; the kitchen and my studio.
I am determined to keep the momentum going, despite being quite overwhelmed by such a daunting task. I am going to try and work on it little by little, every day until it's done. Sort of like a diet. I am putting my junk on a diet.
I plan on using music, cookies and beer to keep me motivated. So no diet for me!
Even though its been chilly up here for a while I still somehow found a way to put it off a bit longer. It's called looking for a new job and starting a new job. And then looking for a new job and starting a new job, again... a month later.
A buddy visited not too long ago and encouraged me to finish unpacking. She is right. I hatched a plan today and even made a few illustrations. I have the next 5 steps or so planned out, mostly geared around getting rid of some stuff I know needs to go to create more space for sorting everything else. I am really ready to let go of a bunch of stuff that I have been holding onto, it more ways than one.
It will also be great to dedicate my studio to making art, instead of using as an enormous closet. I might even have a dedication ceremony. Yes. I will. With yarn decorations.
So I just unpacked a trunk that was a high school graduation present from my uncle and aunt. It has lived everywhere I have since I was 18 and frequently been used as a coffee table.
One of the first things I found?
A box of raisins.
From Price Chopper.
Price Chopper.
This is a store I shopped at in upstate NY...in 2004. So yeah. Some of these babies have been packed up for a while.
Other various contents of the trunk:
silk screened art I made in 2001, just before 9/11
socks from the last time I visited Troy and went bowling, the socks say "BOWLING ROCKS!"
It does.
corduroy curtains
a duvet for a comforter I no longer own
scarves, of course
assorted magazine clippings, mostly photos from National Gepgraphic
a measuring cup and an off-set spatula
weird socks, including several pairs of toe socks
I am proud to tell you that I now have a trash bag full of stuff. And that I have moved the items I am saving for the time being to the appropriate places; the kitchen and my studio.
I am determined to keep the momentum going, despite being quite overwhelmed by such a daunting task. I am going to try and work on it little by little, every day until it's done. Sort of like a diet. I am putting my junk on a diet.
I plan on using music, cookies and beer to keep me motivated. So no diet for me!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
how do you feel about where you live?
I'm a nomad with nestinglust.
I really enjoy moving and home-hunting. Tasks others frequently confess to loathe. I love to daydream and wonder what the floor plan and architectural features might be. I am fascinated by what my life would be like inside those walls.
Another part of the fascination is locale evaluation. Trying to discover the perfect balance of nature with urban culture and a small town feel, but not too small...etc. I have found a surprising range within this spectrum in a wealth of places, but none have ever been quite right. I'm the real live goldie locks! Also? If I am in your house I will likely eat all your porridge.
I have roamed and I am weary. I want to put down some roots.
I've been saying that since 2003...but I really mean it this time.
No really.
But first, this seems like an appropriate time to give a shout out to my trusty stead, The Colonel. My nomadic vessel, transporting me from one life to another. You have been a worthy re-locator time and time again. You have even carried a few others to the next setting in their story too.
Colonel, you rule.
Anyhoodle. How do you feel about where you live? Are you stressed there? Are you bored? Are you content, energized, comfortable? I often wonder how some people can bear to live where they do. I can understand how others might wonder that about me.
I am liking where I live more and more. At least I know I am on the right path. Today I was driving home through a milky dusk, the darkened branches of bare trees silhouetted against a sunset of creamy analogous pastels, punctuated with golden orange. Pale light from above the tree line lit the wispy white fur of a grazing cow, framing her with a shimmering aura. The stark white against the brilliant still-green of the pasture and the deep blackness of the trees was breath taking. As I built my fire tonight I gathered the firewood by moonlight, the sky crammed with stars.
If you don't like where you are I hope you can get to where you want to be soon. Or at least see where you are on the journey.
Monday, November 15, 2010
an unintentional day with grandpa
So today I some how managed to TRIPLE book myself. Remember before when I said I suddenly had a lot going on and was distracted? Yeah.
In the end, Frandz's Grandpa won out, big time. I think part of the appeal is that anyone from his generation in my family is gone now. No more Pappy, Granny or Geegee. All my amazing great aunts are gone too. Spending the day with someone in their late 80's is actually really fun. Especially when they call you pahd'nah. I have the presence of mind to ask him about his past, something I was little too young to realize I needed to do with my own grandparents. I'm a much better listener now too.
Frandz and his dad were driving tractors around the yard so I went inside with Grandpa. I asked him if he wanted to play cards. He said he didn't know where any were. Then he shared that when he was growing up that he and his brothers played cards almost every night. Straight Pitch. He said they had no TV, no radio. Just each other and cards.
Grandpa grew up on a huge farm in OK. This makes him the perfect informal interview candidate for someone wanting to live closer to the earth. He told me that every farm needs a steady, reliable stream of income. Sage advice. His family relied on a handful of dairy cows and sold the cream for this steady $. He said they gave the milk to the pigs, and man did they taste good! He told me that he was a skinny kid but that milking the cows all the time gave him strong hands and arms. He later went on to be a surgeon at Grady, so I guess that early dexterity and muscle building really paid off.
I would like to take this opportunity to point out that no one showed this man baby einstein videos as a baby, in hopes that he would grow up to be a doctor. I feel fairy confident assuming his childhood was a mix of farm work, school and play. Real play, imagination and outdoorsy goodness. No private preschool, no learn-with-me flashing talking games from playskool. Not even any Barney or Sesame St. And he became a surgeon...
Frandz and I ended up sharing two meals with Grandpa today. Golden Corral and Waffle House. I know you're jealous of all the golden fried food Igorged on enjoyed. I was actually really proud of myself for not going full binge and ordering the pecan waffle for dessert. I could have easy rationalized it as food my body needs to keep me warm this winter. But I didn't. Self high five!
One of the best things about a day with Grandpa is that he is hilarious. One of the first times I met him he looked at Frandz and said "Where did you find her? Metro Goldwyn Mayer?" I swear I will remember that until they day I die. I don't care if he has used that line 1,000,000 times before on 1,000 other girls. It melted my heart and I've been kissing the man on the cheek ever since.
Every time we visit we say we will be back soon. We will visit more often. No one has to say out loud that these visits are numbered and no one knows how many or how few remain. Which is why I am so grateful to my friends who I had plans with today who got bumped by Grandpa, and were so tremendously understanding about it. I'm sure Grandpa would thank you too, and tell you you look like Vivienne Leigh or Greta Garbo.
In the end, Frandz's Grandpa won out, big time. I think part of the appeal is that anyone from his generation in my family is gone now. No more Pappy, Granny or Geegee. All my amazing great aunts are gone too. Spending the day with someone in their late 80's is actually really fun. Especially when they call you pahd'nah. I have the presence of mind to ask him about his past, something I was little too young to realize I needed to do with my own grandparents. I'm a much better listener now too.
Frandz and his dad were driving tractors around the yard so I went inside with Grandpa. I asked him if he wanted to play cards. He said he didn't know where any were. Then he shared that when he was growing up that he and his brothers played cards almost every night. Straight Pitch. He said they had no TV, no radio. Just each other and cards.
Grandpa grew up on a huge farm in OK. This makes him the perfect informal interview candidate for someone wanting to live closer to the earth. He told me that every farm needs a steady, reliable stream of income. Sage advice. His family relied on a handful of dairy cows and sold the cream for this steady $. He said they gave the milk to the pigs, and man did they taste good! He told me that he was a skinny kid but that milking the cows all the time gave him strong hands and arms. He later went on to be a surgeon at Grady, so I guess that early dexterity and muscle building really paid off.
I would like to take this opportunity to point out that no one showed this man baby einstein videos as a baby, in hopes that he would grow up to be a doctor. I feel fairy confident assuming his childhood was a mix of farm work, school and play. Real play, imagination and outdoorsy goodness. No private preschool, no learn-with-me flashing talking games from playskool. Not even any Barney or Sesame St. And he became a surgeon...
Frandz and I ended up sharing two meals with Grandpa today. Golden Corral and Waffle House. I know you're jealous of all the golden fried food I
One of the best things about a day with Grandpa is that he is hilarious. One of the first times I met him he looked at Frandz and said "Where did you find her? Metro Goldwyn Mayer?" I swear I will remember that until they day I die. I don't care if he has used that line 1,000,000 times before on 1,000 other girls. It melted my heart and I've been kissing the man on the cheek ever since.
Every time we visit we say we will be back soon. We will visit more often. No one has to say out loud that these visits are numbered and no one knows how many or how few remain. Which is why I am so grateful to my friends who I had plans with today who got bumped by Grandpa, and were so tremendously understanding about it. I'm sure Grandpa would thank you too, and tell you you look like Vivienne Leigh or Greta Garbo.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
november 14th and only 3 posts
What the heck have I been doing all month? What happened to my blogging time? I guess the pursuit of gainful employment and acquiring said employment has really cut into my lolling on the internet time. boo.
But money to keep the lights and interwebs on is good. thumbs up!
And dragging wood does take some time yallz.
Now I have a job, places to be, things to learn. Other things to do besides try to phrase my introspection into easily digestible tidbits.
Speaking of things to learn I am working on learning our menus and wine list for my server test. I even made flash cards! There is actually quite a bit of data I am going to need to regurgitate tomorrow. It would come much more naturally if I could learn the info by using it on a daily basis. But they want me to learn it and then use it. Ok. Fair enough. Just take me off training pay.
So yeah, Frandz is watching football right now so I have a little pocket of time to blog. Not really enough time to paint, but enough to type. Let clean up too. ;)
I do have about 6 ideas saved as titles with no body. I am going to have to come back to those because I want to write about my Sunday.
But money to keep the lights and interwebs on is good. thumbs up!
And dragging wood does take some time yallz.
Now I have a job, places to be, things to learn. Other things to do besides try to phrase my introspection into easily digestible tidbits.
Speaking of things to learn I am working on learning our menus and wine list for my server test. I even made flash cards! There is actually quite a bit of data I am going to need to regurgitate tomorrow. It would come much more naturally if I could learn the info by using it on a daily basis. But they want me to learn it and then use it. Ok. Fair enough. Just take me off training pay.
So yeah, Frandz is watching football right now so I have a little pocket of time to blog. Not really enough time to paint, but enough to type. Let clean up too. ;)
I do have about 6 ideas saved as titles with no body. I am going to have to come back to those because I want to write about my Sunday.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
woodsy wounds; closer to the earth, like maybe too close
Frandz had to go out of town to work a few days ago. Conveniently he left me with no firewood. So I had to forage for wood myself before the sun (and temp) sank, oh so early, behind the trees.
This was a challenge I was happy to rise to. Although I made a point of complaining extensively to Frandz over the phone. It's a part of our coupley banter, a sort of good-natured playful bickering. A little salt to balance all the sweetness. I like to point out his double standards whenever possible, we usually both end up giggling. The last time he was out of town he asked me to use the wood he had cut sparingly, so he wouldn't have to cut a bunch more as soon as he got home, which I did respectfully. I come home from a weekend away and all the branches and twigs I collected before leaving town are nothing but ash. Thanx Frandz! To be perfectly fair, when I was gone it was like 29*...it was only in the 50's when he was gone.
Anyway. I stopped along the road again and was proud of some rather huge branches I hoisted into my bed. Too huge, in fact, for me to chop them up with an ax. You should have seen me pounding the hell out of these things, I really covet friend Emilia's honed wood splitting skills (perhaps she will leanr me?). They were too thick for the reciprocating saw too, which I embraced only after my low-fi ax attempts proved fruitless. It turns out that both saw batteries were on their last few seconds of life, rendering them essentially worthless, and I didn't have enough time before dark to wait for the batteries to recharge. A branch-dragging I shall go.
I grabbed my giant blue IKEA bag, perfect for gathering and dragging wood. Whenever I am searching for wood I get this sort of Brothers Grimm sensation. Isn't there some folk story where children are sent into the woods to gather fire wood? Do Hansel and Gretel do that? I don't really know what my brain is referencing but I will be out there, crows cawing, picking up sticks, leaves crunching underfoot and I get this storybook flash, like I am reenacting an illustration.
Like many a storybook heroine my woodland adventure was not to be without peril. Most notably a sting on the hand by a yellow jacket who's nest I disturbed. I felt a tickle on my hand and looked down just in time to feel her sting me was I tried to brush her off. Damn! I looked around for an angry nest and saw none so I assumed this was just one I had annoyed and continued picking up wood. Then I heard a buzzing in my ear and thought I felt something in my hair. I decided at that point that I was more than likely standing on a nest and ran like a crazy fool out of the woods. Seriously. Like a mad. crazy. fool.
After brushing, checking and swatting myself, in the style of another storybook friend, Winnie the Pooh (as well as successfully removing the yellow jacket from hair, sting free woot!) I decided I was bee-free. I cautiously returned to re-gather my bag and all the wood that had tumbled willie-nillie down the hill when I took off like a startled antelope.
My left hand has been swollen for 2 days now. What's weird is that Sadie came limping into the house yesterday with an apparent sting on her paw. Did she go sniffing where I got stung? Just seems a little weird that we were both stung within 24 hours of each other. My attempts at canine first aide were a total FAIL, but she seems ok now. I'm a little jealous that her swelling is already gone. Maybe all that fast healing stuff with the werewolves in Twilight makes sense after all?
Once inside, in front of a roaring fire completely of my own making (true satisfaction), I examined myself for additional wounds.
Scratches on my hands and arms
Knee bruises (from a chopped piece of wood flying into it and from trying to break pieces that are a wee bit too thick over my it)
Did I mention the three burns I incurred the other day building fires?
All in all, I'm not too much worse for the wear but I do hope I get better at this. Otherwise I will look like a domestic abuse victim by turkey day.
This was a challenge I was happy to rise to. Although I made a point of complaining extensively to Frandz over the phone. It's a part of our coupley banter, a sort of good-natured playful bickering. A little salt to balance all the sweetness. I like to point out his double standards whenever possible, we usually both end up giggling. The last time he was out of town he asked me to use the wood he had cut sparingly, so he wouldn't have to cut a bunch more as soon as he got home, which I did respectfully. I come home from a weekend away and all the branches and twigs I collected before leaving town are nothing but ash. Thanx Frandz! To be perfectly fair, when I was gone it was like 29*...it was only in the 50's when he was gone.
Anyway. I stopped along the road again and was proud of some rather huge branches I hoisted into my bed. Too huge, in fact, for me to chop them up with an ax. You should have seen me pounding the hell out of these things, I really covet friend Emilia's honed wood splitting skills (perhaps she will leanr me?). They were too thick for the reciprocating saw too, which I embraced only after my low-fi ax attempts proved fruitless. It turns out that both saw batteries were on their last few seconds of life, rendering them essentially worthless, and I didn't have enough time before dark to wait for the batteries to recharge. A branch-dragging I shall go.
I grabbed my giant blue IKEA bag, perfect for gathering and dragging wood. Whenever I am searching for wood I get this sort of Brothers Grimm sensation. Isn't there some folk story where children are sent into the woods to gather fire wood? Do Hansel and Gretel do that? I don't really know what my brain is referencing but I will be out there, crows cawing, picking up sticks, leaves crunching underfoot and I get this storybook flash, like I am reenacting an illustration.
Like many a storybook heroine my woodland adventure was not to be without peril. Most notably a sting on the hand by a yellow jacket who's nest I disturbed. I felt a tickle on my hand and looked down just in time to feel her sting me was I tried to brush her off. Damn! I looked around for an angry nest and saw none so I assumed this was just one I had annoyed and continued picking up wood. Then I heard a buzzing in my ear and thought I felt something in my hair. I decided at that point that I was more than likely standing on a nest and ran like a crazy fool out of the woods. Seriously. Like a mad. crazy. fool.
After brushing, checking and swatting myself, in the style of another storybook friend, Winnie the Pooh (as well as successfully removing the yellow jacket from hair, sting free woot!) I decided I was bee-free. I cautiously returned to re-gather my bag and all the wood that had tumbled willie-nillie down the hill when I took off like a startled antelope.
My left hand has been swollen for 2 days now. What's weird is that Sadie came limping into the house yesterday with an apparent sting on her paw. Did she go sniffing where I got stung? Just seems a little weird that we were both stung within 24 hours of each other. My attempts at canine first aide were a total FAIL, but she seems ok now. I'm a little jealous that her swelling is already gone. Maybe all that fast healing stuff with the werewolves in Twilight makes sense after all?
Once inside, in front of a roaring fire completely of my own making (true satisfaction), I examined myself for additional wounds.
Scratches on my hands and arms
Knee bruises (from a chopped piece of wood flying into it and from trying to break pieces that are a wee bit too thick over my it)
Did I mention the three burns I incurred the other day building fires?
All in all, I'm not too much worse for the wear but I do hope I get better at this. Otherwise I will look like a domestic abuse victim by turkey day.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
visiting atlanta as a non-resident
There are so many cities that I love to visit but wouldn't want to live in. My hometown is no exception. Often, when I am visiting an awesome city, like NYC, London, Chicago, DC, I wonder what it would be like if I lived there. I always imagine that I would max out after about 6 months. Atlanta, which I consider to be a less awesome city than some, I somehow ended up in for 5 and a half years. I hope whatever karmic debt I was serving is complete.
My buddy Mike put it best. "Everything is beautiful when you put a frame around it". We're not talking about an actual wooden frame enhancing an other wise unappealing piece of art (although that happens too). Rather that it's easy too see all the good stuff about a place, a person, almost anything, within a limited frame of reference. Take camping, I don't want to live in a tent 365 days a year (that's a lie, I sort of do, just not a coleman in N GA, maybe a yurt in Mongolia) but for 3 days its rejuvenating, relaxing and fun. Same with an urban experience. I don't want to live in the ATL but a limited adventure was really something delightful.
Friday night I drove into Atlanta at the invitation of an old friend. She and her fiance are lots. of. fun. We had a few deliciously and creatively mixed drinks and saw an alternative variety show/circus complete with really cool art installations. I really enjoyed being a guest. When I lived in Atlanta I often found myself playing the role of social coordinator and I hated it. I take that back. I didn't totally hate it but I don't like doing it all the time.
I thoroughly enjoyed not planning, not navigating, not researching prices, locations or show times, not driving. I just showed up and someone handed me a drink. I was told it was time to go, I got in the back seat and sang along to Billy Ocean. I was free to enjoy someone else entertaining and making jokes, and I laughed and laughed. I used the extra space in my head, uncluttered by deciding which route required the least time sitting at traffic lights, and watched the bungalow houses roll by, drank in the 200 year old trees, pondered the quirky and funky ways people are reinventing their neighborhoods, themselves and the South. The city seemed sparkly to me instead of like a throbbing, infected canker sore. I felt invigorated and alive in a way I don't usually in N GA.
I was a tourist in my hometown and I loved it.
My buddy Mike put it best. "Everything is beautiful when you put a frame around it". We're not talking about an actual wooden frame enhancing an other wise unappealing piece of art (although that happens too). Rather that it's easy too see all the good stuff about a place, a person, almost anything, within a limited frame of reference. Take camping, I don't want to live in a tent 365 days a year (that's a lie, I sort of do, just not a coleman in N GA, maybe a yurt in Mongolia) but for 3 days its rejuvenating, relaxing and fun. Same with an urban experience. I don't want to live in the ATL but a limited adventure was really something delightful.
Friday night I drove into Atlanta at the invitation of an old friend. She and her fiance are lots. of. fun. We had a few deliciously and creatively mixed drinks and saw an alternative variety show/circus complete with really cool art installations. I really enjoyed being a guest. When I lived in Atlanta I often found myself playing the role of social coordinator and I hated it. I take that back. I didn't totally hate it but I don't like doing it all the time.
I thoroughly enjoyed not planning, not navigating, not researching prices, locations or show times, not driving. I just showed up and someone handed me a drink. I was told it was time to go, I got in the back seat and sang along to Billy Ocean. I was free to enjoy someone else entertaining and making jokes, and I laughed and laughed. I used the extra space in my head, uncluttered by deciding which route required the least time sitting at traffic lights, and watched the bungalow houses roll by, drank in the 200 year old trees, pondered the quirky and funky ways people are reinventing their neighborhoods, themselves and the South. The city seemed sparkly to me instead of like a throbbing, infected canker sore. I felt invigorated and alive in a way I don't usually in N GA.
I was a tourist in my hometown and I loved it.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
pick up stix
I had the idea for this one on Monday. Now it is Thursday evening.
I should have filled all the hurry up and wait between interview day and now-I-have-a-job day with writing.
Instead I watched a whole bunch of episodes of Arrested Development on netfrix. Woot!
Now I am almost done with all of it, which is sad. I hate it when good thing, like quality TV, yarn or an ice cream cone, comes to an end.
Today I went to the outlet mall to by black pants for my new job. What a fantastic excuse to shop. I also got acarb bomb* soft pretzel to propel me through my shopping. It left something to be desired, that thing being actual pretzel dough. Guys? I know the difference between a soft pretzel and a really salty twisted-up hot dog bun. The yellow mustard in your crusty pump was not enough to hide your golden baked sins.
The food court also had this weird cyber-text-music video-jukebox thing going on. Fairly gag-tastic. I had visions of sitting there on a horrifically crowded, rainy Saturday afternoon, a little too close to xmas, the air thick from sweaty, panting shoppers, tweens everywhere, clutching their pink phones, insisting to their parents that "we have to wait til my song comes one! Gah!" The selection was pretty Beiber-centric.
That kids is adorable.
So yeah, clearly that was about all the mall I could handle.
On the way home I stopped for gas. I have to keep track of my mileage and plan my gas purchases because the gas stations here are far enough apart that I could honestly run out of gas. I noticed it was pretty freaking chilly while I stood their pumping my petrol. I squeezed the handle harder, to pump the gas faster, so I could get back in the car. Damn, it's really pretty cold!
On Tuesday (and Wednesday) while I was waiting to hear back from my interviews I picked up sticks. Both days were pretty dark and swirly. It seemed appropriate for the season, the time of year when everything is dying and going to the underworld. I knew some rain was coming so I wanted to be sure we had enough dry small and medium wood on the porch. All the big stuff Frandz cut with the chain saw (which he sharpened, twice) is no good without little friends to keep it warm, keep it burning.
When we got a break from the rain on Wednesday afternoon I went out for a it more. I even wore overalls! We were going through it faster than anticipated. Now that it might not really warm up during the day there are more hours that require fire.
So today as I drove home from the outlets my brain was searching for branches and limbs, eyes scanning the embankment as I drove. The same way your brain sort of turns the world into a video game you play for too many consecutive hours.
I am so glad I drive a truck. I swear asking for a truck after a huge limb fell on my beloved honda accord was one of the wisest things I've done over the past decade. I brought home a bed full of branches. Free wood! Woot! Literal windfall.
I made a shepard's pie for dinner with some potatoes a friend at the lake grew. When Frandz got home he sawed up the limbs ( I don't do power tools) and we enjoyed the hearty fare by a blazing stove. We both couldn't be prouder than when we compare the inside temp with the outside. Right now it's 77* inside and 40* outside. 37* difference. Spectacular. I have a rack of clothes drying by the stove.
Fall is wonderful here. Even when it's cold, dark and stormy. It might even be better then.
*Carb bomb totally made me want an Irish Car Bomb real bad. Now I am really annoyed not to have the ingredient for one.
I should have filled all the hurry up and wait between interview day and now-I-have-a-job day with writing.
Instead I watched a whole bunch of episodes of Arrested Development on netfrix. Woot!
Now I am almost done with all of it, which is sad. I hate it when good thing, like quality TV, yarn or an ice cream cone, comes to an end.
Today I went to the outlet mall to by black pants for my new job. What a fantastic excuse to shop. I also got a
The food court also had this weird cyber-text-music video-jukebox thing going on. Fairly gag-tastic. I had visions of sitting there on a horrifically crowded, rainy Saturday afternoon, a little too close to xmas, the air thick from sweaty, panting shoppers, tweens everywhere, clutching their pink phones, insisting to their parents that "we have to wait til my song comes one! Gah!" The selection was pretty Beiber-centric.
That kids is adorable.
So yeah, clearly that was about all the mall I could handle.
On the way home I stopped for gas. I have to keep track of my mileage and plan my gas purchases because the gas stations here are far enough apart that I could honestly run out of gas. I noticed it was pretty freaking chilly while I stood their pumping my petrol. I squeezed the handle harder, to pump the gas faster, so I could get back in the car. Damn, it's really pretty cold!
On Tuesday (and Wednesday) while I was waiting to hear back from my interviews I picked up sticks. Both days were pretty dark and swirly. It seemed appropriate for the season, the time of year when everything is dying and going to the underworld. I knew some rain was coming so I wanted to be sure we had enough dry small and medium wood on the porch. All the big stuff Frandz cut with the chain saw (which he sharpened, twice) is no good without little friends to keep it warm, keep it burning.
When we got a break from the rain on Wednesday afternoon I went out for a it more. I even wore overalls! We were going through it faster than anticipated. Now that it might not really warm up during the day there are more hours that require fire.
So today as I drove home from the outlets my brain was searching for branches and limbs, eyes scanning the embankment as I drove. The same way your brain sort of turns the world into a video game you play for too many consecutive hours.
I am so glad I drive a truck. I swear asking for a truck after a huge limb fell on my beloved honda accord was one of the wisest things I've done over the past decade. I brought home a bed full of branches. Free wood! Woot! Literal windfall.
I made a shepard's pie for dinner with some potatoes a friend at the lake grew. When Frandz got home he sawed up the limbs ( I don't do power tools) and we enjoyed the hearty fare by a blazing stove. We both couldn't be prouder than when we compare the inside temp with the outside. Right now it's 77* inside and 40* outside. 37* difference. Spectacular. I have a rack of clothes drying by the stove.
Fall is wonderful here. Even when it's cold, dark and stormy. It might even be better then.
*Carb bomb totally made me want an Irish Car Bomb real bad. Now I am really annoyed not to have the ingredient for one.
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