Last night, Bayou and I did something we should’ve done months ago- we cleared out the fridge, freezer, and butcher block table of junk food.
Wow, that felt good. It was seriously overdue. My honey also made a list of main dishes and sides, so we can eat the oldest stuff first. I think this is the first step to getting us back on a healthier, more balanced plane.
Baby steps.
A cool little meme I saw at Trop’s.
1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?
Geocaching.
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I didn’t make any resolutions.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
No.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
My Dad, my grandma, and an old friend.
5. What countries did you visit?
Sadly, I was confined to the US this year. More »
New Year’s at our house was sedate, since this is Swine Flu Central right now. (Bayou is slowly getting better, I remain puny but no worse) We laid on the couch and watched episodes from season two of “Torchwood“.
At 12:30, I woke Bayou up, put the kids to bed, and headed into sleep myself. I went to bed thinking of new beginnings, of growth, of healing.
Instead, I dreamed of my Dad and of missed chances and regrets. More »
In an effort to help sort out how I feel mentally, I thought it might help to review the year in pieces and revisit all the good and bad. It’s hard, when one is living in the moment, to fully appreciate all that has happened. A little reflection can go a long ways towards restoring healthy perception.
January
I don’t recall a lot happening in January, one way or the other. But Bayou and I did celebrate our 6th anniversary. Oh, and we started our sewing adventures, too.
February
We went to San Diego and had a great time. But as soon as we got back, my cell phone got stolen. AT&T decided to be douches and not give me my iPhone. Bayou got hers, at least.
Then Dad got sick.
I went home, Dad got sicker and was transferred to Columbus Medical Center. AT&T rectified their douchery while I was there, and I got my iPhone. My time off allotment ended and I had to go home. More »
I’m stealing this from my work buddy Jill, as I have found it useful to keep things in perspective when the slogging-through-stuff part of life has gotten me down. Lately, it’s been hard to not be frustrated about a lot of things, and I’ve lost sight of the smaller milestones on the way to bigger goals.
The exercise Jill shared with me is called Bragging. And you can feel free to participate in the comments below.
The guidelines are:
-OWN it.
-No brag is too big or too small
-it’s a “Should”-free zone
-Stay positive
-Up-rides encouraged, compliments adored (an upride is someone mirroring back and validating what you have bragged about)
-Brags do not have to be huge- in fact, this is more about the little things than big picture stuff, but it can be both
-Acknowledge compliments (i.e. uprides) by saying ‘Thank you, it’s true!’ (NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU WANT TO DISMISS THE COMPLIMENT, THIS IS THE ONLY ACCEPTABLE RESPONSE)
Ready? Here are mine:
-For the first time ever, I put up a Christmas tree instead of ranting about how much I hate this time of year. It made Bayou very happy, and surprisingly, made me happy too.
-I have thrown out the junk food at my desk.
-I’ve mandated a bedtime of no later than 10:15 so I can get the rest I need. So far, so good.
-I got almost 100% of my Christmas shopping done early. That has NEVER happened.
-I took an important step re: work that I’ll know more about soon. (Sorry, gotta be cryptic for now)
Your turn! Post ‘em in the comments.
I’m beginning to think that concept is a myth. I mean really, is there ANYTHING in society that isn’t a construct of our making? I digress, to a degree. That’s going to have be a few other posts for another day.
As those of you who read me often enough know, this has been a bad year in terms of persona losses. First my Dad, then several family friends, then my Grandma last month. Right after she passed a dear friend and former roommate of mine died of cancer, aged 38.
Now my mom tells me a bunch of things have been going on in the background of our extended family on her side. All of this was news to her, too.
-My great Uncle Mark died in June 2008 of prostate cancer.
-His wife, my great Aunt Louise who I used to regularly emailed with and cherished, broke her hip in 2007 and has had four surgeries. Those have left her quite addled.
-My mom’s 1st cousin is dying of pancreatic cancer that’s spread to her liver.
And no one told us. My aunt had to Google my great Aunt’s son to find his contact info and that’s how it all came to light.
I don’t know why I’m surprised- or why I care. This is an epidemic on both sides of the family, and always has been. Why does it bother me? The answer is simple in some cases- even though I only met Uncle Mark and Aunt Louise once, I was very fond of them and had a good email correspondence with my aunt. (They live in FL)
Life got so hectic that I didn’t notice the months that had slipped by without hearing from her. I kept thinking I needed to make more time to get in touch, but I never did. And now I will regret that just like I regret not seeing Mom and Dad more often.
Part of me feels like I just need to stop caring. I can’t change the distance, I can’t change the circumstances that made my family so distant. Another part of me wants to nourish what’s left. But I am also tired of feeling like efforts and time spent never match up.
Perhaps I need to drop the idea of reciprocity between people altogether. We’re all different with different needs, and no matter what I (or someone else) wants or thinks is proper, those ideas are often unlikely to align. I should let go of expectations and try to enjoy the positives, whether they be emails, calls, card, visits, whatever.
And I need to ask questions. Because if I don’t, those family anecdotes will die and I’ll miss out on the chance to know more about times before my birth, family member who predeceased my birth, etc.
Why, why, WHY is that so hard to do? Have I been permanently damaged by this distance between everyone? I suppose I should be grateful that I have the awareness to even ask these questions, but the asking does not equate to comfort. Only a deeper, darker void.
Ever since I’ve been on my own, I’ve been without a Christmas tree. Either there was no space, or there was no money, so it was just never a part of the equation.
Since I’ve been with The Cool Company, it was even less of a priority- this time of year is so hectic that the last thing I wanted to do was decorate.
Well, this year I promised Bayou we’d finally get a tree. We headed out to our favorite hardware store and got a Douglas Fir that’s about 7′. We picked up ornaments at Big Lots, where I took a picture of this tree and faked out some peeps on Facebook that that was the tree we were buying.
In the end, we got the basics together and our living room now has a suitable holiday vibe.
Merry Chrismuhanukwanizka!
Ok, so I have a dumb music technique/theory question.
I’m teaching myself basic blues guitar stuff from this book, and so far it’s going well. I’m getting re-familiarized with chords and I’m learning new stuff.
When we met with our friends V & D, the trained musicians, we talked about how tiny my hands were and how I might need to do some chords differently to compensate. Now, I have a strong bent towards doing things the “right” way, and I always try to do something as it’s intended initially and make adjustments later if I have to do so.
When learning the pentatonic scales in the book, I’ve been practicing the first of 5 and have gotten pretty good at doing it. But last night, I realized I had been doing the fingering wrong. The scale is:
5th fret/8th fret, 1st/4th fingers
5th/7th, 1st/3rd finger, repeat 3x
5th/8th, 1st/4th finger, repeat 2x
I was doing the 5th/7th ones with my 1st/4th fingers instead of 1st/3rd. It felt more comfortable, but I’m trying to correct it to match what the book describes.
The notes sound good and clear, so does it matter? I mean I understand the importance of technique and correctness, and I don’t want to teach myself bad habits that will hurt me later.
I’d appreciate other perspectives, music geeks. Bring it!
About a month ago I woke up in a most unusual position. (Don’t be nasty, Syd.) My arms were crossed very, very tightly across my chest. My left arm was throbbing horribly and that’s what woke me up.
I had to struggle to straighten my arm. Ever since, it has ached. I’ve tried Advil, heat, a tennis elbow splint. Not much has worked.
Today my awesome Doc confirmed my fears of bursitis. We’re going to try a conservative approach first, and hope it works. Anti-inflammatory meds, then a cortisone shot if it doesn’t respond.
Fun. Getting old sucks.
So, back in 1998 when I lived in Atlanta I somehow scrounged enough money to buy a Crafter acoustic electric guitar. It looked a lot like this one only not as bright blue.
I don’t recall much about my practicing or playing there, but I definitely recall playing it in Lake Tahoe. I even got an amp from a friend. It was nice to be playing a bit. The lessons in high school never really faded.
Then I moved to Seattle. The guitar once again moved with me. From place to place to place, all the way to our home of almost two years. Fast forward to October, and a chance conversation with some friends prompted me to pick it up again. More »
My mother called at 7am PST today. I knew what she was going to say before I picked up the phone.
“Hi Mom,” I said.
“How are you?” she asked.
“Good, how are you?” I replied.
“Well, I just called to tell you your Grandma Greer died this morning,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness. More »
Don’t be nasty. (Syd, I’m looking at you.)
I had a dream last night that Bayou and I were shopping for clothes because we lost weight. (Something I reeeeaaaallly hope happens in the near future.) We were in this Costco-sized department store that seemed to go on for miles.
We found some clothes and decided to peruse the kitchen appliances. We came turned the corner on a BEHEMOTH of an oven/range. It was taller than we are, and it had a million dials/knobs on it. It looked like it was a steroid-engorged version of some of the stoves from the 1950’s- it was puce green, retro-style dials, no digital displays. It honestly looked more like a tank than a stove.
And it was $69,000. *facepalm*
Bayou was ridiculously excited about this stove, and was reading off all of its features to me in an attempt to sweet-talk me into the sale. She reads the list and ends it with the coup de gras:
“And it makes beer!”
That’s where I woke up. I think I may have been laughing.
The last few years I’ve had these occasional bouts of “Should I have’s”, mainly with regards to whether I should have gone to college right after high school.
It creeps up in one of two ways, usually. Either I’m feeling incredibly unskilled after working with one of our uber-smart and linear-thinking analysts at work, or someone I know is going back to school and thriving for the experience.
I hate to say the “Should I have’s” present themselves more often in the latter, negative context. I always feel not good enough, even when no one is comparing me to someone else but me. Dumb, I know. But I seem unable to stop the comparison.
Lately, it’s been happening again although in a more driven context. I’m in a less-than-ideal work situation and so is Bayou. We’re both reaching places where we’re questioning what is valued, what is unnecessary, and what is outright poisonous. The difference for Bayou is that she’s been to school and generally wants to use her existing ass-kicking creative skills. I, on the other hand, need an entirely new direction and would have to get some significant training in order to do it. More »
I’ve been reading a fantastically interesting book called “The Code Book: The Science of Secrecy from Ancient Egypt to Quantum Cryptography” by Simon Singh. My interest in cryptography has been life-long but casual, as I’m ridiculously math-impaired. However, geocaching has really spiked said interest, since there are some brutal puzzle caches out there.
Part of the book’s allure is the way Singh makes history come alive on the page. He wrote a section on the WWII era “Enigma Machine”, and the Allied codbreakers who worked to defeat it. One codebreaker in particular stood out to me. More »
My sleep patterns were good and steady, until this past March when Dad died.
I sleep, but I don’t feel rested. My dreams are strange and harder to remember than usual. Always a vivid dreamer, it suddenly feels as though my subconscious is not working out its kinks as effectively as it has in the past.
Two nights ago, I had my first dream about Dad where it wasn’t post-funeral. I was traveling alone in a car that I don’t own -I think it was a silver 2009 Mustang- to the desert in Arizona (??- weird, as we have no connection to that place). He was alive, and Mom was there, too.
But there is no sound in my memories. I have the distinct impression we talked and he had something to convey to me, but I cannot hear it. When the visit was over, I had to fly home, but I realized this wouldn’t help me with my car situation, since I was driving… so without telling anyone, I drove home alone. I was met by a shadowy female figure on the road near home, who was sent to check on me. Her face is obscured but I think it was someone else who had passed, too.
I woke up feeling a palpable pain my chest, like I had been punched. The grief and missing were as keen as they have been since he died. This dream is like so many other things in my life right now- there is something just outside my reach, mostly invisible. I can sense but not actually reach it.
The very definition of distress and frustration, really.
…because I made my first pot roast of the season last night.
If you’d like to recreate this yummy-ness, here’s the recipe: More »
Dear unknown Angel,
I can say with 100% certainty that neither I or my Mom expected our Tuesday to begin in such a humbling, gracious way.
I don’t know who you are, as you put my Mom’s name as the sender to avoid naming yourself on the envelope. I also don’t know how, in this recession, you had the wherewithal to do this. But you did. And now, because you chose to send five hundred dollars to my Mom, she might actually have hot water this winter.
Hearing her crying, shocked voice over the phone was like a punch in the stomach. I wish you could hear, could know what your gift means to her, to me. Because I think words really fail at expressing our profound gratitude.
Whoever you are- thank you. Thank you so much.
~Lachlan & Bayou
Which also have no relevance in your present life, except to remind you of how silly we can be about things.
My Dad was a dyed-in-the-wool Windows user and while not disdainful of Macs, wasn’t exactly accepting of them either. Since his business was built on fixing and building Windows machines, it’s not hard to understand why.
In August of 2007 I bought my 1st Mac, a Macbook Pro. (Which runs like a top to this day, thankyouverymuch). I never told him, figuring he’d be hurt that I replaced the (admittedly broken) desktop he’d built me a couple years before without having him fix it.
God, how stupid that seems in the rearview mirror. And while there were lots of things I never told him, and this is far from the most important, it’s just the latest in several little ‘a ha’ moments of late that leave me kicking myself.
