Time for an Update

So. A year, huh?

Many good intentions were had. Procrastination happened.

I've been out so long...is blogger even still a thing? Is anyone still out there? I thought about starting a shiny new blog, here or elsewhere, but...yeah, I'm a bit to lazy for that.

I've got some things to say. Stuff to share.

No promises though.

The Obligitory Christmas Post

When everything is “meh,” it’s hard to get excited or involved in anything. I found Christmas seriously, seriously hard this year. Decorating became a chore, baking became overwhelming, shopping? All I can say is thank whatever supreme being there might be for Amazon. The most enjoyment I got out of Christmas ramp-up, and don’t laugh because I am dead serious, was ordering wood grain wrapping paper paper to go with our Christmas tree theme: wood ornaments only. 

We spent the week leading up to Christmas shouting, "That's mahogany!" every time a cat or a girl got too close to the tree!

The other highlight of Christmas? Funny story actually.

We haven’t updated our gaming console since the PS2. Really. We have a first gen Wii, but I don’t considering that as an “us” update. The Wii was a gift from my mom many, many years ago. So our console gaming has been rather limited in the past few years. Don’t get me wrong, I love my PS2 and it will not become part of the Dejunking 2015 project at all. I have very specific, very joyful memories attached to it. Yeah, I’m looking at you Sara. Baulder’s Gate Marathon? SSX Tricky until our fingers cramped? Still play ‘em. Still love ‘em.

This Christmas Scott and I decided to finally update to a PS4. Cool, right? We completely skipped a generation! The girls were thrilled when they opened it Christmas morning, squeed even, and couldn’t wait to start playing. So as I was making the Christmas Breakfast and getting ready for work (yeah. Work on Christmas. Sucks, but that’s the hospitality industry for you.) Ashleigh started unboxing and setting up the new shiny.

After a few minutes of ripping plastic, tearing tape, and shredding cardboard, Ashleigh appeared in the doorway, a cord in her hand.

“Mom, I can’t set it up.”

“What? Why?”

“There’s no plug for it,” she said.

“Just unplug something else.” We’ve got a dvd player, Wii, and PS2 all hooked up to our TV, surely there is something we can do without.

“No, Mom,” she wiggled the cord at me, “It won’t plug in. There isn’t a port.”

Frustrated because of the 20 million things I’m trying to get done, I walked into the living room and took the cord from her. “What do you mean?”

“This cord doesn’t fit the tv.” She wiggled the cord at me again.

I pulled the cumbersome, heavy tv away from the wall and look at the back. And Friends, wouldn’t you know it, our TV is so old, that it doesn’t have an hdmi port! Seriously? Yup. Our ancient, only got it because it was on sale and they were discontinuing the model, tv can’t handle new technology.

Scott and I couldn’t stop laughing. The girls? Well, they were less than amused.

Guess what else we got for Christmas?

Dejunking: My Life and Home, 2015

One of the most frustrating things I’ve encountered recently is my growing desire for a Big Change.

I’ve mentioned it before here, here, and here, my itchy feet syndrome. My inability to be content with the same place for more than a few years. It has hit again. Hard. Especially towards the end of 2014 when I kept looking at 2015 with hope and excitement. 2015 represents a clean slate, a new start, a tangible end to a crappy year and the beginning of a year that isn’t crappy - in fact, 2015 has the potential to be awesome. It is, of course, what we make it, and I am determined! Determined to make 2015 a Great Year!

Back to my itchy feet. About every three years or so, I get the urge for change. Change of jobs, change of location, change of something. Unfortunately, Scott and I have already made the executive decision that a relocation right now is not feasible. We want to get Cyra through middle and high school without another move. We want to save up money so that in a few years Scott can start his plan to go to brew school. To do that we need to do a few things:

1. Stay on target - with our budget and our long term plans.

2. Keep put - no moving or major life changes.

3. Live modestly - we are planning on living on his salary while socking mine away into savings.

These three things…well, actually, just the second item on the list, put a real kink into my BIG CHANGE and ITCHY FEET plans.

What’s a girl to do?

Well, it all goes back to one of the things I’ve been obsessively googling lately: the Small House Movement. Tiny little portable homes, with tiny little footprints, being all handmade, cute, and minimalist.

I. Love. It.

Scott and I talk all the time about buying land in the middle of nowhere and building a tiny little house, a chicken coop, and a garden. Maybe even a couple of tiny little houses, one for us and then an extra one or two for guests. Ah, the dream of living off the grid and off the land.

But, in all reality, I probably couldn’t go that way, at least with the house size. I like my dvds, crafts, and games way too much. Those three things alone could take up an entire 150 square foot room!! But, I find more and more, as I look around my cluttered home, there is a lot of stuff that I really could do without. I might not be able to reduce enough to live in 150 square feet but I can certainly pare down what I have to live in my 1300 square foot home without feeling claustrophobic.

Now, by no means am I a hoarder. I’ve seen that. I’ve got a family member who is one. But I do have a tendency to collect a lot of crafting supplies. You can see my craftway here. It takes up my entire entry hall (that we don’t use anyway). But with so many crafts (I really do know how to do pretty much every. Single. Craft.) I get overwhelmed with all the supplies. It is time to pare down. I have roughly 60 pounds of scrapbook paper. Who needs 60 pounds of paper? Not this girl!! Not anymore!

So, to alleviate my itchy feet and appease my need for Big Change, I’m down sizing my life. I’ve made a list of rooms, closets, and cabinets I want to tackle and each week I’ll put a dent into my life. That being said, I’m not touching the girls or Scott’s stuff. For one, Scott doesn’t actually have that much stuff and what he does have: books and clothes, are already at a minimum. As a child of military parents, he already has a minimalist mind set. As for the girls, I’m hoping that as they see me donate, toss, and yard sale stuff, they’ll get into the dejunking.

I’ve actually already started. Remember I mentioned my recent weight loss? Well, I’ve donated roughly a third of my clothes and thrown away another quarter. My closet is much more accessible now. And I felt great about getting rid of stuff I never wear!

I think I’ve found the cure for my itchy feet and restless urge for change. Next up: The Kitchen!

Reading Challenge - Introductions

Reading has always been my main form of entertainment. I’d much rather pick up a book and escape into a world woven together with words and imagination than passively watch a tv show or movie. Don’t get me wrong, I love tv and movies too, but active entertainment they are not. I can’t get swept up into a tv world like I can a book world. So I was rather disappointed with myself when over the last year, Netflix became my go-to entertainment. But last year I needed to be passive. I hadn’t the energy to do much and getting emotionally involved in a book? Well, that was way too much commitment on my part.

As I’ve said, reading was something that I pushed to the side in 2014. Not this year. 2015 is the year of Doing Stuff! And stuff has got to be read!

One of the blogs I follow posted this 2015 Reading Challenge from PopSugar. And I dig it. It is vague enough that I can customize it to fit my favorite genres and subjects but detailed enough that finding books to fit it will require thought and effort.

I need to make an effort right now.

Throw in my BFF and I’ve got a ready made book club reading challenge. Hey, Sara, shall we post reviews on our respective blogs? I’ve noticed a lack of blogging on your part lately too. Granted you’ve been busy with Baby, so I completely get it. No worries or pressure.

Even if Sara does not, I’ll post my reviews of what we read. Which should be interesting since the majority of my reviews of things tend to be: “I liked it.” “I hated it.” Or the ever popular, “Meh.” I’ll try to be a bit more descriptive than that. Sara picked the first book: Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn which covers the Mystery/Thriller book. Given that I don’t tend to read reviews often, my only real knowledge of Gone Girl is: 1. It’s quite popular, 2. They made a movie, 3. A wife disappeared.

I started reading Gone Girl on the 1st and I was pretty much hooked from the first couple of pages. So it looks very promising.

Things I Didn't Do In 2014, But Will Damn Well Do In 2015

2014 sucked. A lot. And it became a convenient excuse to not do anything. My one resolution this year? 

Do Stuff.

Do the stuff that I love to do. Do the stuff that I ignored.

Here is an incomplete list of things I did not do in 2014 but will do the hell out of in 2015:

1. Write. Okay. That one was obvious. Seriously, three posts in 2014? Cut the crap, Heather, and start writing!

2. Read. Weird, right? I think I might have read three books this year. A long way off from my normal gazillion. I’m not counting, of course, favorite books that I always reread like World War Z and Jurassic Park. Like old friends I find great comfort in picking up a familiar book and I did that, but new books? Even with the ease with which I can now acquire new books on my Kindle, I haven’t read all much.

3. Craft. My only crafty accomplishment for 2014? The Christmas decorations on the tree.

4. Bake. Didn’t even so much as bake cakes for birthdays this year.

5. Cook. Along with baking, cooking in general became a chore. Normal menu planning and prepping for dinners became stressful and making lunches? We went from bento boxes to here’s a sandwich to make your own lunch. I had plans last year to prepare one meal a week that we’d never had before. With all the crap, easy recipes that I knew by heart became the norm. 2015 shall bring a return to new dishes. I also plan to do at least one meatless meal a week.

6. Travel. No. I take that back, I did travel, but it wasn’t for pleasure. Scott’s father passed and we went to be with him. I’d like to plan a trip back home and to Maine this year. It’s been six years since my last trip home.

7. Camp. Different than “travel.” It is. Honest. We actually haven’t camped since 2011. First it was budget constraints, then it was work constraints. This year though I plan on taking a few 3-4 day weekends now that I have vacation time built up.

8. Celebrate the Birthday Fiesta O’Fun. Although, to be fair, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I was desperate to get together with Sara for that. Unfortunately, both the girls and I were miserably sick the one stinking week that Sara came back to Florida.

9. Document. I took very minimal photographs this year and most were on my phone for work. Birthdays, holidays, candids, nothing. 2014 will be a non-scrapable year.

10. Budget. Scott and I were getting really good about budgets in 2013. 2014 destroyed that. We didn’t go crazy with spending, but we certainly didn’t pay attention to our finances either. 2015 will be a year of back to basics budgeting.

11. Socialize. I didn’t Facebook, blog, call, write, or visit much in 2014. I wrapped myself in isolation because it was what I needed.

12. Exercise. I’m not a big fan, but a walk around the neighborhood a few times a week isn’t out of the realm of impossible for me. I enjoy it even. I didn’t do anything in 2014. That being said, I still managed to drop (in a majorly unhealthy manner) 30 pounds. I got a new bike for Christmas, though, so exercise is in my future. Though I do need to lose more weight, ultimately, my overall goal is to get back into healthy habits - daily exercise and healthy eating.

13. Family Game Night. 2014 ended family game night. 2015 will bring it back. Scott and I both agree that family game night was and is something that we need. We don’t often eat together - our work schedules often run past dinner time so family game night was a way for us to all sit down together. Christmas helped with that as many of the gifts under the tree were table top games.

Line in the Sand

I’ve never been much for celebrating the New Year. I’ve been to exactly one New Year’s Eve party way back in the early 90s. Staying up and watching the ball drop in New York City is about all the enthusiasm I can muster for what is an arbitrary human line in the sand. Depending on which ancient civilization you favor, the new year fell on the winter solstice, the vernal equinox or some other logical celestial event. The winter solstice makes the most sense to me, but who am I to argue with history winners?

In recent years, staying up to watch the ball drop has become a chore. The older I get the less interested in I am in staying up late and if my neighbors would stop with the fireworks every year, I’d blissfully sleep through the whole thing.

This year though? This year that arbitrary line in the sand is vitally important to me. It’s a tangible moment that will allow me to put 2014 into the “history” category. And Friends, I really, really need to do that. 2014 was a challenge. 2014 sucked spiky, radioactive, guano balls. 2014 just needs to end already.

While I won’t be staying up this year to tell 2014 to “suck it” I’m certainly looking forward to waking up on January 1st with a metaphorically clean slate. I don’t expect things to be magically better though. They won’t be. The same issues that we have been dealing with all year will still be lurking. We’ll still be fighting to reduce some of the shit that has been dumped on us this year, but thankfully, the pile is definitely getting smaller.

2015 isn’t going to be be about new beginnings and changes so much as it will be a return to things I stopped doing in 2014 because it was too much, too overwhelming, too hard to juggle. I’m not one for sticking with resolutions, but I’ve got them this year and I am determined to keep them. Nothing in the realm of impossibility, nothing far-fetched. I’m not planning to take up mountain climbing, become fluent in Latin, and certainly not overcome my fear of sharks by swimming with them. 

Goodbye 2014. Make sure you leave your keys and close the door on the way out.

Hello 2015! Come on in, sit and stay awhile! I've been looking forward to your visit!

The Countdown Is On

There’s a two-part episode of Star Trek Voyager titled “Year of Hell” in which Captain Janeway and her crew suffer a series of calamities over the course of a year. Eventually, through the magic of temporal phenomenon, everything ends up honky-dory, and the Year of Hell never happens. Voyager’s crew continues on their journey unaware of the disasters that befell them or they avoided...I’ve never understood temporal mechanics.

There have been more times than I can count that I’ve wished for a temporal phenomenon to undo this year or fast forward it. My very own, very real, very intense Year of Hell. As science fiction isn’t all science fact yet, that leaves me just waiting for the end of 2014.

Many times, almost daily, I ask myself what right have I to complain. I know people who’ve been through far too much for me to ever complain about anything. How dare I mope when people are starving, when wars rampage across the world, when cities burn, and mothers lose their children! Who am I to lie in bed at night crying? My husband holds me but is helpless to comfort me because I am inconsolable. In those moments, I allow myself to fall because I tell myself that grief is not a contest and there is no measurable way to compare pain, that even though others have suffered far more than I could ever imagine, my anger, sadness, and hurt are just as real.

I count, I breathe, I pull myself together because I have no other choice.

Am I depressed? Yeah. Clearly. There’s no denying that. My one and only solace? I know that my depression is situational. That things are generally shit right now, but it won’t be like this forever. I know that as long as I keep putting my feet on the ground every morning, that someday it won’t feel like such a chore. There are days when my smile is genuine and my laughter is not forced. And those days are slowly starting to outnumber the others.

I’ve said it before that I should have done an anonymous blog, then maybe, I’d post more about my life. Maybe if I had a top secret super blog I’d vent, I’d rant, I’d utilize an outlet that I honestly should have been using: my words. My chaos has been my own this year. I’ve not wanted to share it or talk about it here or anywhere, so even an anonymous blog would have sat unattended this year. I’ve got 31 more days to go in what I expected to be a great year. I have used this year as an excuse for not writing, not crafting, not doing and that’s got to change. Whether I post to a public blog or just jot notes in a journal, writing has always helped me work through my issues and I need to get back to that.

In 31 more days I’ll have survived 2014.

In 31 more days I’ll file 2014 away as a lesson learned.

In 31 more days I’ll jump into 2015 looking to exceed rather than endure. 

 

Scott asked me the other day if I expected 2015 to magically be better. Of course not, I said. But it’s like a clean slate. New Years is a tangible mark, a concrete, albeit human, passage of time. Time allows distance and clarity, healing and hope. Time, right now, is the best friend I’ve got.

This year I fell. Come January 1st, I will start standing again.

Troublesome Little Elf

By now, everyone is probably sick with all the Elf on the Shelf photos floating around the Internets in December. But I was going through my Christmas photos (finally!) last night and doing my monthly external back-up when I happened to spy this one photo of Rupert's Shenanigans that I absolutely loved.

Rupert is our Elf on the Shelf brought to Cyra when she was in kindergarten, before the huge Elf on the Shelf bandwagon was formed (OMG please tell me that doesn't make me hipster!). After a pretty rough November in which said kindergartener was misbehaving, Santa brought Rupert to keep an eye on things.

For the most part, Rupert just moved around, watching...watching...like the burning eye of Sauron. That is until 2012 when Rupert decided to have some "fun" and got into plenty of trouble: TPing the Christmas tree, dying all the milk green, using all of Cyra's bodywash taking a bubblebath. You get the idea.

This past Christmas was probably the last that Cyra will be a firm believer in the Magic of Christmas. And Rupert, willing shenaniganer that he is, was a willing participant. That is until some of the other toys in the house got tired of his crap...

A Paizo Goblin, a Dalek, and Sebastian from Black Butler all ganged up on Rupert and Irish Princess Barbie (Rupert's love interest) and tried to feed Rupert to a collection of evil monster miniatures.

Cyra, the calm, collected kid that she is, came out in the morning and just shook her head.

"Oh, Rupert," she said softly, "What have you gotten yourself into now?"

Changes

I'm not burnt out on blogging. Let me just make that clear. It would be great to say amazing things are happening: I won the lotto, I discovered a new element, Scott and I bought an RV and are currently traveling the lower 48, my novel was getting published.

But none of those dreams have come to pass...yet.

In all honesty, my job has changed gears and although I am now working a normal 9-5 day by the time I get home, dinner, kids, chores...you know the drill, the last thing I feel like doing is sitting at the computer. When I worked 2nd and 3rd shift, it was easier to define my time. I could work on a blog post in the morning when the girls were at school or in the middle of the night when all was quiet at work and I didn't feel like I was short-shifting my time with the girls.

I don't know how other do it! Jobs, kids, chores, blogs?

Well, no. I do know. We make time for what we prioritize. I get that. And right now, my problem is that this blog, blogging in general, just isn't a priority. I've got other things that I need and want to focus on. 

Am I saying goodbye? 

No. 

No, I'm not shutting down. I'm not going anywhere. 

But trying to force myself to commit to a blogging schedule just stresses me out. It stops being fun and entertaining and becomes a chore, just one more thing I need to take care of like the laundry or mowing the lawn. So for the time being, I'll work on posts as and when I can. With no rhyme or reason, I do hope you'll all still check in with me from time to time!

Happy New Year, Friends!

 

The Piano Guys Made My Daughter Cry and It. Was. Magical.

Shortly after Cyra started taking violin lessons last year (her school offers a Strings Alive program so for a nominal $10 fee she gets weekly lessons and a violin to borrow) she was searching for violin videos on YouTube and she discovered The Piano Guys. If you have never heard of them, please stop reading right now and go check out a couple of their videos. This one is Cyra’s favorite or this one or maybe this one…heck pretty much any and all of their videos could qualify as her favorite! It just depends on her mood that day. Anyway, go click some links, I’ll be here when you get back.

We good? Did you check them out? Amazing, right?

Anyway, for months Cyra would watch theses videos daily. She began to talk about learning to play the cello.

“I bet I could learn cello easily now that I know violin,” she’d tell us.

She talked about cello so much it broke my heart because at the time I was still unemployed and we couldn’t afford lessons much less a $600+ beginner’s cello. Nonstop all through the winter, through the holidays, and well into spring we heard about cellos and The Piano Guys.

In early spring, The Piano Guys announced their upcoming US tour and Cyra nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw that they would be playing the Florida Theater in Jacksonville, a mere 40 minutes away. Still unemployed, I told Cyra that we really couldn’t afford the tickets, but really, I knew that I would save every penny I could to get her there even if it meant doing without Internet, power, or skimping on groceries for a few weeks.

But with gainful employment comes financial wiggle room and after I’d gotten a few paychecks into the bank, I told Scott I was buying tickets. That was in May. Coincidentally, the scheduled stop in Jacksonville fell just a few days before Cyra’s birthday.

Perfect timing. She’d be thrilled with her birthday gift.

All that spring and summer Cyra talked about cello lessons. And the more she talked the more Scott and I really started playing with the budget to see if it was possible. I priced cellos online, I looked around town for a music store that offered cello lessons.

This wasn’t a passing fancy for her. Cello was her dream.

When school started in August, her music teacher told Cyra that she might not have returning students join the Strings Alive program. Cyra came home devastated. Violin, you see, was her gateway to cello. She knew that if she couldn’t take cello lessons then at least she would still get the practice with a string instrument.

That same day, I emailed the one store in town that offered cello lessons. A few phone calls later, Cyra had a meeting with the instructor, an older gentleman whose preferred instrument was the cello. He was thrilled that such a young girl would be interested in cello.

When we went to meet him, he measured her to see what size cello she would need and watching her touch and hold a cello for the first time cinched the deal for me. Her smile just about engulfed her face and she couldn’t stop trembling.

“If I made a down payment, would you be able to let me make payments?” I asked the instructor softly as I stared at Cyra pulling the bow across the strings.

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Done. Let’s do it,” I said.

Cyra looked up at me, tears welling in her eyes. “Really?”

I nodded. “For really.”

I came home with a cello that barely fit in my car, weekly lessons that worked with my work schedule, and a little girl in complete shock.

(And now I do something that I don't often do: post photos of the girls. But today I feel it is important for the story.)

Cyra and her cello, first day home. Possessive doesn't even cover it.

First time practicing before lessons had even started. By the end of the first evening home, she had a reasonable sounding Twinkle Twinkle going. All that violin work really helped!

Let’s return the The Piano Guys.

Around the end of September, Cyra once again asked me if we could go to the concert. I looked her dead in the eye and I lied to my child. Lied through my teeth knowing that what I was about to tell her would sadden her.

“I’m so sorry sweetie,” I said softly, “With Ashleigh’s wisdom teeth and buying the cello…we just don’t have the money for it.”

Her face fell a little, “I understand, Mommy. It’s okay.”

And not another word was mentioned. Until yesterday.

Yesterday, the day of the concert, Cyra came home, scuffing her feet, frowning, and irritated.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” I asked as she sat on my lap and wrapped her arms around me.

“I had a rough day, Mom,” she sighed.

I nodded sympathetically as she told me about her day. “Sounds like you could use something to cheer you up.”

She nodded. “Maybe a nap too.”

I laughed, “You’re that tired?”

Another nod.

“Well, maybe this will help.” I grabbed the envelope that held the tickets for over 6 months.

She raised her eyebrow at me.

“Open it up.”

She pulled out the printed tickets and scanned over it without really seeing it.

I pointed to the top, a small gray rectangle with the concert information. "Read in here,” I told her.

She read.

She looked at me.

She read it again.

“Mommy, I think you better cover your ears because I am about to squee like I have never squeed before.”

She jumped off my lap, jumped around the living, the walls echoing her squees of joy.

At the Florida Theater, after buying $70+ of merchandise, including a book of sheet music, Cyra, Ashleigh, and I sat quietly as the house lights fell dark. Cyra took a deep, calming breath as The Piano Guys walked onto the stage.

It. Was. Magical.

The first three songs, Cyra cried. Tears of happiness and joy streamed down her face and her quiet snuffles made me wish I had brought some tissues. Ashleigh and I couldn’t stop smiling.

These guys put on a great show! Aside from the music, which is phenomenal, they were personable, humorous, and humble. Sprinkled throughout the show the guys talked about their background together and the piano player, Jon Schmidt kept telling the audience that Steven Sharpe Nelson was the number one cellist in the world. And while I absolutely loved the show, the best part was watching Cyra’s reactions: amazement, admiration, hero worship.

Afterward, I told Cyra we could hang out in the lobby to see if they’d come out for autographs. She about fell over.

We waited in the lobby for a good 45 minutes. After most of the crowd cleared out and there were only about 30 people left in the lobby, the security guys had us line up.

And then, there they were. Cyra, who had been containing her excitement as best she could earlier, broke into a jittery dance and tears welled up again. As the line moved forward, Ashleigh and I tried to keep her calm.

“Can’t blame her,” Ashleigh said, “I would totally be fangirling as hard if I was meeting someone I really liked,”

Then it was her turn. And surprisingly she stayed put together.

“You’re going to need the table,” she told them as she handed over her items for signing.

The guys were gracious, polite, and asked her all sorts of questions.

“Do you play an instrument?” Jon, the piano player, asked.

“Yes,” she replied, “The cello.”

“You are my favorite person so far tonight,” Steven, the cellist, replied. Apparently, everyone they had met had claimed the piano as the instrument of choice. “How long have you been playing.”

“I just started this year,” she paused. “Because of you.”

“Wow. That’s fantastic!”

I swear he was flabbergasted.

“Did you name your cello?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Did you name it Steve?” Jon Schmidt asked.

“No, Agent Romanoff.”

“Whoa. That’s a serious name.” The guys laughed.

Cyra nodded.

“When I grow up,” Cyra said shyly, “I’m going to be right up there with you,” she looked at Steven, “I’ll be the second best cellist.”

Steven looked down at her with a smile, “No. You be the number one cellist. I’ll be second.”

Oh. My. Heart. It pretty much exploded.

Pictures all around and then our turn was over and once again Cyra could not keep the joy contained and she burst into tears again. She was floating as we walked back to the car.

“Best day?” I asked her.

“Best. Day. Ever,” she said through her tears.

From left to right: Al Van Der Beek, Steven Sharp Nelson, Cyra, Jon Schmidt, Paul Anderson

Committing to Commitment

I work better, I’ve found, when I have multiple deadlines looming over my head—even if they are self-imposed deadlines. So, I know I said back in October I was back in the blogging game, but then I fell off the edge of the planet again. Go figure. I blame my BFF Sara for that, although she doesn’t know it (then again, maybe she does, she is scary perceptive like a ninja). Sara is in her third trimester and I have gone crafting crazy trying to get my BIG plans completed before Baby arrives! So October passed in a blur of yarn and fabric and emergency poodle skirts. And I’m still not done!

So what does that mean for me? Well, November is going to be busy. As always. I don’t even try to pretend to be surprised. In addition to the crafting and NaNoWriMo, I am going to commit to getting at least two posts a week. They might be short, maybe just be a photo or two. But the more I have to accomplish, the more willing I am to manage my time appropriately and not procrastinate.

And Friends, I am a big procrastinator. If I started a list of all my faults, procrastination would be at the top. I totally blame my family for that one. As the baby of the family, I learned very early on that if I waited long enough, someone else would do my task for me. Heck! My mom and sister still do it! Remember that whole painting my house thing?

(Another fault, since I’m listing them, apparently I don’t like to take responsibility for myself. But I blame my birth order for that.)

But no one is going to craft for me. And no one is going to NaNo for me. And clearly, no one is blogging for me. So I’ve got to pick up the slack. And by pick up the slack, I really mean, actually do the stuff that I want to do: crafting, blogging, writing.

Of course, there is one teensy flaw in my plan. Work. Yup. Me working, as much as I love my job (and a post is coming out soon about that) it really is putting a kink in my whole time management plan. Although to be fair, there are a few things I can do while I am at work that doesn’t interfere with actually working especially during the slow period, but don’t tell anyone I said so!

Free Advertising

Ashleigh had her first SAT today and as chance would have it we were short on #2 pencils, water bottles, and snacks - all things recommended for students taking the SAT. I don’t recall being told I could bring a snack or drink when I took the SAT but times, they do change. With a grocery store on the way, a quick stop to grab the required items was no problem.

Knowing that I was going to spend the morning cleaning, I threw on an old pair of shorts and the first winner’s t-shirt I ever bought from NaNoWriMo. It’s my favorite simply because it was the first one I was ever qualified to buy. Soft grey cotton, bold orange block lettering, and a squirrel saying “Whoa!” What’s not to love?

Image source

Ashleigh and I were walking down aisle 8 looking for #2 pencils when a man - probably about my age or maybe just a touch older - came striding down the aisle, a basket in his hand. He was a ginger, so of course I noticed him. And he had a beautiful, rugged full beard. But what struck me the most about him was his deliciously bright hot pink shirt, shorts, and socks. He had on black running shoes and a number pinned to his shirt so I can only assume he was doing some sort of run, probably for breast cancer (because that’s all October is about now-a-days).

As he approached, he slowed down, hesitated, his stride broke and he looked me up and down. He regained his footing and continued on. Curious, I kept my eye on him because - well, he’s a ginger! And I never get perusals. He got about ten feet beyond me and then turned and looked me up and down. Again!

Folks, I was floored. Dumbstruck. Flabbergasted. Getting one glance almost never happens and a second one is unheard of. 

He walked a few more feet, stopped, turned fully around, and caught my eye.

“I love your shirt,” he says. “I’ve thought about giving it a try and just haven’t .”

Of course, my shirt, my walking billboard to NaNoWriMo. I laugh.

“You should give it a try. It’s a lot of fun.” I tell him. By this time, Ashleigh and I have successfully acquired #2 pencils and were heading back up the aisle towards the guy.

We start walking together.

“My friend does it and keeps trying to get me to do it too,” he says.

“That’s how I got started.” I reply, “You know there’s a small group that tries to meet at Barnes and Noble, usually in the mornings-”

“Oh. I teach,” he interrupts.

“Well, the time is flexible.” I tell him as his pace quickens. Am I being too outgoing? Too pushy? “The website is NaNoWriMo.org,” I tell him and slow down a little.

He strides on ahead of me. “Thanks, maybe I’ll look into it.”

He continues walking. I continue walking. Following right behind him. Crap. He’s going to the same aisle that I need to go down.

“Now I feel like I’m stalking you,” I laugh.

He turns around and smiles. “No problem.”

Is he creeped out? Was that a forced smile? Am I reading too much into it?

Social awkwardness at it’s best.

He beelined down the personal care aisle and I made for the cheese and dairy aisle. We parted ways, but jeesh, wouldn’t you know it, back at the register, who am I behind?

So, I’ll take a second and throw out an apology to the guys over at NaNoWriMo. I tried advertising and recruiting for you. I don’t think it worked. Maybe next time I’ll leave it at, “Gee thanks. You should give it a go,” and walk away.

The Write Way to November

Last year, between a whole bunch of crazy, I decided to forgo my usual November pastime: NaNoWriMo or as I like to call it, No Sleep November. At the time it was the best thing for me to do. Honestly, last year, a month of bizarre writing schedules was just not something I could handle nor commit to. But it was like a punch in the gut when I dropped out. I felt like a tool, disappointed in myself for allowing myself to contrive a nicely wrapped gift package of excuses.

I told myself I hadn’t prepped my story enough. Then I decided I hated the story I was telling. Then I spun into a cycle of “who am kidding,” and found myself staring at a blank screen on my netbook and empty lines in my NaNo notebook - I get a new one every year and all those pages made my head spin, my heart pound. Was this real? I asked myself. Am I having an anxiety attack over something that is supposed to be fun?

So I stopped. Cold. Dead. In the middle of a sentence, I closed the document, did not save, turned off the computer, and walked away from the table.

I was done.

I’m not sure what I regret the most: dropping out or trying to start in the first place knowing I wasn’t feeling it.

Truth be told, I had actually put NaNo out of my mind until yesterday when I got the first official updates from the NaNo people in my inbox. And I panicked!

I’ve got nothing planned! I’ve got too much on my plate! I’m working now - crazy work hours with an even crazier sleep schedule!

After my moment of sheer and utter panic, I stopped and shook my head in disbelief. What am I doing, I thought? I’m already making excuses and I‘ve got a month. I’ll never get anything done unless, you know, I actually go and do it. I love NaNo. I love the crazy, the fast-pace, the insane daily word counts, the weaving and crafting of a story (no matter how much I might think it sucks). I love my few hours at Barnes and Noble typing furiously and drinking buckets of coffee.

I know that I’ve got a good half dozen story ideas that I can plan out this month and be ready to commit to writing in November. So here I am making a public commitment. Call me out on it if you think I’m slacking. Demand that I post my word count in prominent locations. Throw crazy ideas my way and challenge me to make something out of them. I’m game.

October Revolution

It would be great to say I was so entirely busy with my life that I just didn’t have time for blogging, but I try to be honest here so I can’t claim busy as an excuse. In all honesty, there really isn’t one single excuse.

I lost interest.

It became a chore.

I had nothing good to say.

I was doing other things (not too busy mind you, just pursuing different creative outlets).

All sound pretty…excusey.

I could throw this one out there: My eldest got obsessed with interneting and because of that my interest diminished.

And that almost comes to the point. In fact, if I’m going with excuses that one is the only one I would lay claim to. As her interest developed, I started paying attention to my internet habits and realized how much time I actually spent online. It isn’t necessarily a bad thing, spending time online, but I saw how much time I could reclaim for other activities.

The time spent at work, much of it while the girls were at school, limited our family time and interneting sucked even more time away.

I stopped writing blog posts, I stopped reading blogs, I stopped clicking on links. I checked my email and Facebook a few times a day, the weather and the news, and then I walked away from the computer. I crafted, played, cleaned, worked.

But even that is an excuse.

There were plenty of times that I thought to myself: Ooo! I should blog this! But didn’t. I didn’t feel like sitting down at the computer. So I made notes to myself and moved on with my day.

So yeah, maybe I just needed a break.

Let’s go with that: needing a break. You saw other blogs and that’s okay. We were on a break. But I want back in.

Burn Barrel Romance

Scott is an early-to-bed-early-to-rise person out of necessity. He has a very physical job and while he isn’t old, he isn’t young anymore either (neither am I for that matter, being a year older than he is). By eight o’clock most nights he is in jammies and ready for bed. So when we came home after Cyra’s concert last week and Scott put his yard work clothes back on I was more than surprised.

“What are you up to,” I asked him as he slipped he shoes on.

“I’m going go burn things and drink a beer…or maybe two. Want to join me?”

“Sure. Sounds fun.”

There’s something about sitting in front of a fire with Scott that makes my insides woozy. Normally when we sit around in front of a fire it’s when we are off camping and marshmallows are involved. Not romantic, per se, but nice enough. And making a big fire in the burn barrel, while it might not involve s’mores, is fun nevertheless.

The moon and stars peeked through a mostly overcast sky and I dragged our two Adirondack chairs into the yard while Scott began building the fire. By the time I brought our drinks out – a nice IPA for Scott and a good cup of Earl Grey for me (ironically although the selling and drinking of beer is our main source of income, I don’t particularly care for the taste) Scott had a good size blaze going.

We turned off the flood lights and sat in the glow of the barrel, quietly sipping our drinks. Cyra, her bundle of nerves exhausted from the concert, had collapsed into bed soon after we arrived home and Ashleigh was glued to the internet, giggling over The Meta Picture and fan-girling to manga. The neighborhood was quiet except for the billions of frogs in the pond out front and the occasionally barking of a dog.

I’m not sure how it happened, but somehow Scott and I ended up having a date night: out of the house, in front of a roaring fire, sharing a drink, and no kids around? Sounds like a date to me. So what that it was in the backyard and mosquitoes the size of Cessnas buzzed around us despite the heavy dose of bug spray and citronella candles.

And somehow, magically, we ended up breaking one of our cardinal rules: never, ever, talk religion or politics.

Our views are so vastly different that we don’t even try to come to a common ground anymore. We just accept that we will never see eye to eye on certain things and so those subjects are not permitted. But on this magical, burn barrel date we talked religion. And, even more surprising, it didn’t end in a fight.

I must be maturing.

I don't know exactly how the subject came up, but it all came down to the way we met. Scott claims fate: some force led us to make the choices that led us to meet – he draws the line at calling predestination (even though it certainly sounded like that to me) claiming that just because we were fated to meet didn’t mean, necessarily, that we were fated to be together.

It reminded me of my days back at Flagler when I took a Milton class (you know, Paradise Lost, that guy). Oh the debates that I demanded we have in class (remember, Sara?) all the arguments I brought up about free will versus predestination to the point where the professor had to tell me to give it a rest.

But I couldn’t. It bugs me even today. If the god you believe in is all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-loving then you cannot have free will because he already knows what you are going to do and you can’t prove an omnipotent being false so therefore you have no choice but to do what has already been seen. That, my friends, is predestination.

Whoops!

I’m breaking my no religion, no politics rule here too! Yikes!

Back to the story! My argument is that if we were destined to meet, then all of our choices along the way are trivialized because it wouldn’t matter what choice we made, we’d still have ended up meeting. Scott argues that my view only works if our meeting is the be all end all of those choices. It got more convoluted as the evening wore on. We teased and laughed, joked and smiled. There may have been some kissing too - but I don't kiss and tell!

Regardless of the conversation, I am more than happy with the choices that led me to Scott. Whether it was predestination, fate handing us a road map, or just simple coincidence, without Scott I wouldn't have my girls, my BFF Sara, or a million wonderful memories and moments with a man I can't imagine my life without.

And that, my Friends, I wouldn't change for the world!

I Made It Monday (Or We Now Return To Our Regularly Scheduled Program)

For those of you who have recently joined my legion of minions...um...followers...I had been doing a regular Monday post called, "I Made It Monday." I'm a crafter and a professional chef (at least in my mind and according to my kids) but that isn't the only thing I am. That being the case, I do like to occasionally display with pride my creations. Most people refer to this as bragging and I do that too. But I'm totally modest about it.

Before I show off my accomplishments for the week, let's talk for a second or two about Pinterest. How many of you have a Pinterest account? I bet it's a bunch. Pinterest is the coolest thing since hot glue. Would it astound you to know that I do not have a Pinterest account? Well I don't because I already spend too much time lurking about on the internet wasting time that I should be spending in productive activity.

But every once and a while, I'll scroll through the Pinterest front page just taking a gander at what's there. I mean I am a crafter and a would-be chef so I should always look to expand my horizons and talent, right? The only problem is that each time I visit Pinterest I find myself feeling more and more inadequate. Interestingly enough, I am not alone in this feeling. A recent news article talks about how moms are feeling stressed out by the amazing things they see on Pinterest and like me feel bad about how perfect everyone else's life seems.

So last week I was perusing Pinterest and low and behold I found two recipes that looked really fantastic. The first was for a zesty shrimp and avocado salad and the second for something called "magic cake."

Now I won't print the recipes here because of copyright and all that but I think this is the original site for the salad. With the salad I was a bit hesitant to try it because it called for a bunch of things that I just don't like all that much like red onion and cilantro. And to be honest, I'm not the biggest fan of avocado but I have had it and enjoyed it in sushi and on a sandwich. But the photo looked so amazing and I really love lime and I'm on a low carb diet (which is working nicely, thank you) and this salad seemed just the thing to change up what I had been eating.

Not pictured: the avocado lurking just beneath the cucumbers.

So I replaced the onion with cucumber and the jalapeno with bell pepper (in the hopes the kids would be more willing to try it) and left out the cilantro. Looks pretty, right?

I hated it. It made me want to puke. I brought a small one cup serving with me to work the other night and as I ate it, I hated it more and more. I didn't even finish half of it. I'm not sure why. Maybe all of the replacements I made turned it into a disaster, but all of the ingredients separately I like just fine. Together? UGH!

After that fiasco I was really, really nervous to try the magic cake. Magic cake is all over Pinterest like glitter and there are so many rave reviews about it. What could be the harm here? A cake that magically separates into three different layers as it cooks, sounds pretty neat to me. I got the recipe from JoCooks but you can Google it and about 14 quadrillion recipes for it will pop up. It was a simple recipe with ingredients that I had - so no special trip to the store on a non-shopping day - and it looked pretty sprinkled with powdered sugar.

First of all the batter is so thin it might as well be instant pudding. As I was mixing it during the last stage, it started separating in the bowl and there were chunky bits floating around. I had my doubts, let me tell you. But I was making it for my gaming group and only had an hour before they arrived, so I knew it was too late to bail on a new recipe in favor for a more familiar one.

I wish I had taken photos of the process, because it was a seriously creepy batter. It smelled good as it was baking and when I took it out, it looked...done.

From this angle it's hard to tell, but it did indeed separate into three layers: a bottom rubbery crust, a middle custardy filling, and top cake-like consistency. Instead of just powdered sugar I opted to dust it with a bit of cocoa powder which actually helped cut down the intense sweetness of it. The guys liked it and honestly, it wasn't a bad cake it just wasn't magical enough for me, it was just kind of...meh. I will say though, that on a second try, after it had sat in the fridge overnight and didn't have anything sprinkled on it, I liked it a bit better. I think it would benefit from a sauce and more vanilla.

One of the guys suggested a sprinkle of vanilla sugar and I would have to agree that vanilla sugar would make a nice addition to the cake and to my kitchen!

In fact, I be there's a recipe on Pinterest somewhere for it.

Frustrated is an Understatement

I wish this was a sexy post. Something sweet about me and Scott. But I'm not talking about that kind of frustration. I'm not even talking about computer frustration (which, on a side note, has all been taken care of at a very minimal cost). So you might be saying to yourself: Crap, she's gonna post a ranty post.

And you'd be right. I am. I am full of rant. 

Rantful. 

How come that isn't a word yet?

Cyra, my 10 year old, had an amazing opportunity this year to learn how to play the violin. I'm not sure if I've mentioned it or not, but for a one time ten dollar materials fee, her school provided her with a student violin and weekly lessons. Seriously awesome. So awesome in fact that she not only wants to continue to play, but wants to "upgrade" to the cello, ASAP!

Last night was her first official concert - although really it wasn't "her" concert, it was the local middle school's spring concert that Cyra and her violin class were invited to perform at. She was excited, nervous, fidgety, and anxious. She did marvelously. 

She is not my rant.

The violin group was scheduled to play first followed by the beginner band and then the advanced band. The middle school bands were great. I didn't know a single kid on that stage and I was crazy proud of them. To get up in front of your family, friends, and peers and perform is one of the hardest things to do as a kid - I know, I was in choir! Kids know how judgmental people can be. They know that being in the band is often considered geeky and uncool. And they do it anyway because they love it.

The band is not my rant. They were amazing and it was clear that the band instructor did a fantastic job with these kids.

My rant? The audience!

Throughout the entire performance the audience: parents, grandparents, and siblings, were amazingly rude and inconsiderate twats!

I will never say that another person's parenting style is wrong, but what the Hell is wrong with parents who let their children run up and down the aisle, talk - loudly - though a performance, scream, and play with electronics - in my row alone there were three kids each with an ereader/tablet/smart phone playing games with the flipping sound on!

The woman in front of me actively encouraged her daughter to talk during the selections, leaning over and talking to her. The mother and grandmother behind me made no effort to keep another little girl in her seat and quiet.

And Friends, I am not talking toddlers or babies. These children were at least five and older. During the intermission, Ashleigh leaned over to me and whispered, "I am so glad you raised me properly."

My girls weren't angels. I will never, ever make that claim. But they knew from a very early age my expectations for behavior when we were out. And if they didn't behave? Guess what. We left so as not to disturb those around us. End of story.It only took once or twice for the lesson to sink in and they realized that behaving meant getting to see a movie in the movie theater, getting to go to a concert or a play, getting to go out to dinner.

But then again, how can you blame the child when the parents were just as bad? Talking, texting, answering their phones, getting up in the middle of a selection and leaving the auditorium, door slamming behind them. 

Remember folks, the kids we were watching at that point we not even mine and I was furious for them. Your child is performing so you'll update your facebook or tweet about it that bloody second?

Unbelievable. 

Maybe this makes me old. Or old-fashioned. Or anti-technology. Or maybe, like every generation before me, I will find something that bothers me about the new generation and complain about it. 

But here's where I draw my line in the sand:

Manners Matter. Being polite matters. Engaging with people face to face matters. Giving your full attention to what is before you matters. Teaching our children manners and demanding that they use their manners, that isn't a parenting lifestyle choice. That's just plain common sense.

Plight of the Computerless (UPDATED)

Remember that time a few weeks ago when I said I'd keep blogging because I wasn't burnt out or anything like that after the A to Z challenge?

Yeah. I didn't lie, but all of a sudden I became slightly more computerless than I was before. You know back when I had a computer to use and all.

Long story short, I finally got around to installing the new cd/dvd drive my sister got me for Christmas (yes, it took me nearly five months to do it. I'm lazy, remember?) and wouldn't you know it, that even though it only took me about ten minutes to install, I apparently screwed up something somewhere, because the second I turned it on, I got the blue screen of death.

Twice.

So off to the Computer ER I rushed with my ancient tower. And, well...I confiscated my daughter's laptop in the meantime, but I'm taking this time to go a little unplugged. It's nice. And some projects around the house are actually getting done. Amazing what one can accomplish without the Internet to entertain me!

Hopefully, the computer techs will be able to fix whatever I screwed up and I'll be up and running again sometime next week. Until then, My Friends, I'll be putzing around the house and garden - have I mentioned my garden yet? No? Well, just wait!

Cheers!

UPDATE:

Seriously, folks, I got my computer back and they techs were all like..."Um it's $40 bucks and we couldn't find anything wrong anywhere. We had it running all day. No blue screen. No weird noises. Nothing."

Okey Dokey.

So , YAY! Computer! Although they did mention that it was a rather old computer. Old? It's barely five...but I guess in computer years that's about 4,724 years old. Guess that will need to get budgeted in sooner or later.

Plumb Tuckered Out

April, much like November and NaNoWriMo, is tiring. Different reasons for being tiring, but tiring nonetheless. NaNo is a hectic and fast paced but it's a me against me thing. April brings a different level to the writing. It's me writing, but also making the rounds, reading, commenting, responding. More giving of my time to outside influences, maybe.

And that's a good thing. NaNo is all about removing myself from reality and focusing on my novels. Blogging A to Z is all about making connections. And really, who doesn't like connections. Introverts maybe, but then introverts probably wouldn't be participating in such a challenge. Though I could be wrong. Heck! for all I know I was the only extrovert participating this year. I'm tired but in a good way. I feel accomplished and dedicated. And that's saying a lot right now. So no worries, Pickleope, I'm still going to be blogging. I miss my "I Made It Mondays" and my "Friday Photos."

Two things before I go. First, I hit a blog milestone during the A to Z Challenge: 300 posts! Yay! But even more awesome? All my new peeps! I'd like to give a great big welcome to all the newcomers to my blog. You found me through A to Z and stuck around and that's a major ego boost! Glad to have you around for my journey!

Z is for Zooted and Zozzled

Way back in my early college days I had two over indulgences with alcohol. And yes, only two because that’s all it took for me to learn that while I could hold my liquor fairly well (as in there was never any puking afterward and I always remembered everything that happened) I disliked the feeling of being out of control.

The first time I was inebriated isn’t a fun story – nothing overly exciting happened, there were no lampshades, no strip poker, no naughtiness at all. Just me being silly.

The second time, however, that’s one of my favorite stories.

I was working at a tourist trap and one of the guys that worked there invited Scott and me to a housewarming party. I didn’t get off work until after ten so by the time Scott and I got there, the party was in full swing. The guy hosting apologized that there wasn’t much left in way of drinks…unless of course we wanted to do some shots. Of course I agreed that this would be a great thing to do. Scott, the designated driver, chuckled and muttered something about me not being able to do shots.

What I heard was a challenge.

We’d only been dating a few months at that point and I was out to make an impression. And boy did I!

Ten to fifteen shots of varying alcohol later – I’ll admit, I lost count – I felt pretty good. Except for the fact that I hadn’t had dinner and my stomach was now grumbling everything was peachy. The party kicked into high gear, but within a few minutes, it became clear that Scott and I only knew a handful of people and so we decided to book out to the beach. A few others joined us and with Scott behind the wheel, we backed out of the driveway.

I was fine.

Scott drove down the street.

I was fine.

Scott stopped at the stop sign.

I was drunk.

I went from slightly hungry and fine to holy crap why is the car spinning in the span of three seconds.

Long story short (because really, let’s get to the good part) I decided that going swimming in the middle of the night in January was the best idea ever. Thankfully, I had some very sober shoulder angels who convinced me that getting in the car and heading back to the dorm was a better idea – although they had to lock me in the car to convince me of that!

Now Flagler has a tough policy regarding alcohol and drug use. As in if you are caught drinking, drunk or high on campus you get kicked off of the campus and put on academic probation. So now, imagine if you will, a very drunk me with a few friends trying to quietly sneak up to my dorm room while avoiding security and the RA.

It was beyond hilarious and amazingly we didn’t get caught (or people chose to look the other way). Once I got back into my very tilty dorm room, I went to my wardrobe to get my pajamas on. Did I mention the tilt-a-whirl way the room was spinning? I required more stability at that point than my own feet and went to lean up against the closed door of the wardrobe. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that door that I always kept closed was wide open! I fell into to wardrobe with a loud crash, upended my laundry basket all over the place and managed to crawl out sporting a bruise that ran from my butt to my hip to my knee.

The next morning Scott came to drop off my car and shook his head in amazement when I demanded a huge breakfast at Shoney’s. He was also slightly irritated at how zooted and out of control I had been. 

But I had learned my own lesson: Never do mixed shots on an empty stomach.

Zooted and Zozzled are both adjectives from the 1990s and 1920s respectively that mean drunk or intoxicated. 

Example: Zinia stumbled and tripped along the sidewalk. A bicycle cop watching her laughed, "That woman is so zozzled right now, it's amazing she can even stand!"

This post has been brought to you by the Letter Z and the fine folks at Blogging A to Z. Check out more A to Z blogs here!