Two Steps Forward, One Step Back...

Order

2012-01-30T09:25:00.000-06:00

I am, traditionally speaking, one of the most disorderly women who ever lived. Megan can attest to this personally, as she was my roommate one semester at college. My co-workers can attest to this because it is not uncommon for my office to have stacks of boxes piled in a corner at any given time. My husband can certainly attest to this for more reasons than I care to confess right now.

Ironically, I crave order. I am most peaceful when things are in their proper places and my space is clean and orderly. I know this about myself, but I've never lived that way. To be fair, I am much better than I used to be. For example, during my sophomore year of college, I ended up cutting myself painfully because I crawled into my dorm bed one night and sliced my leg on a razor that was under the covers. (Why was a razor in the bed, you ask? Well, I'd just dumped all my shower stuff onto the bed because there was no room for it anywhere else in the room. Because, you know, the rest of the room was quite cluttered.) Since I no longer store dangerous implements under the covers, that indicates significant progress on my part.

I've had quite a few decades to analyze my aversion to order and theorize why I am, as my mom used to say, "a walking disaster area."
1. I am a very visual person. During tests, I used to close my eyes and picture exactly where in the textbook an answer was. I could always visualize it perfectly, down to its precise location on the page. Handy for test-taking but it's a problem when I feel like I have to be able to see something for it to exist. My house is covered in piles of projects that I can't put away because if I do, I fear I'll never pull them out again.
2. I am an obsessive multi-tasker. This is exceptionally convenient for PTA and Scouts because I enjoy taking on multiple volunteer activities at once. It's not great for my countertops. I take up a lot of space with all my projects and never put anything away because (as indicated in #1, above) I might forget to finish it and because "I'm just running over here really fast to finish something else first, then I'll be right back..."
3. I like to be reminded of who I am, again from a visual perspective. My piles of books, papers, and art supplies are very unique to me. No one else has these exact piles. If I made my rooms look like Pottery Barn ads, I'd just be matching some other house and there would be nothing special about my space. (I know this last reason is lame. Even I roll my eyes when I read it, but I think it's true for me.)
4. I get bored very easily. Honestly, I think this is the biggest problem I have with systems and order. I buy into a new system for a while, it works great, and then I get bored and want to change things up. The easiest way to change things up, of course, is just to go back to being sloppy for a while.

Last month, I seemed to overcome my aversion to order in one area - my bathroom. For years, my half of the bathroom counter was covered in stuff but for at least four weeks now, I've kept it straight and organized. The picture at the top of this posting is a bit dark, but you can see that I have a few "identity items" in a corner but the rest of the countertop is clear. Makeup is in the drawer, not on the countertop. Even more amazingly, when I need a hairclip or bubble bath, I know just where to find it and I'm not looking through drawers and drawers of junk in a fruitless search.

I like this new bathroom order. I suspect my husband is thrilled but afraid to get his hopes up that it will last. I understand this, but it will. Oddly enough, something in me has shifted in terms of how I deal with that particular space.

My inner writer is whispering to me that I need an equivalent drastic organization for my writing habits. I need a system and an order for writing to fit into my day to day life. It needs a place in my day and probably a place in my heart as well. Right now I'm treating my writing like I used to treat my ponytail holders - I toss it in a corner and hope that I'll find it again when I have some spare time.

Now That I've Solved Everything Else....

2012-01-16T21:14:00.001-06:00

I don't do resolutions. I sort of snarf at resolution talk, to tell you the truth.

Having said that, I do have a tendency to go through manic periods of actual (not just theoretical) self-improvement. Did you know that you will accomplish all sorts of great things when you are subconsciously looking for ways to avoid your true calling in life?

Over the last two weeks I have:
- read two books about financial planning and made detailed written plans about the steps I will be taking to implement a new financial way of life for our family
- Amazingly, I've actually TAKEN some of those steps. I've started a budgeting/expense tracking online program, planned meals more extensively, and actually looked at every last account. (I know that last one doesn't sound very impressive, but trust me - in my case it is.)
- I've seen a personal trainer once a week for a month.
- I've been to yoga once a week for the last three weeks.
- I've lost 8 pounds since the end of November (ok, that's not in the last two weeks but I've made great strides each week.)
- Read (and discussed at length with my husband) a great book about the best ways to parent a young adolescent.
- Began learning how to program in C# (because I want to do it, that's why...)

All of this needed to be done, I told myself, before I could dig back into my novel and finish editing it. If nothing else, I will be a true Renaissance woman by the time my novel is finally complete.

Refusing to Take My Own Advice

2011-12-22T09:46:00.002-06:00

I lectured my son for quite a while yesterday evening about math. It was actually just a repeat of the same old lecture he's heard from me before. (It's amazing how parents always think that if we say something over and over at a higher decibel every time, then our kids will finally get it...)

Here's the lecture, in all it's glory:
"You have to take the time to write every single step of a math problem, even if you can do it in your head. For one thing, your teachers need to see your work - but more importantly, if you take the time to carefully write every step in the process, you won't be wasting your time and you are much more likely to get the right answer than if you just do the work in your head."

Nice lecture, right? You see - my son is rather gifted at math but he doesn't enjoy it. As a consequence, he's always trying to rush through his work and skip steps because he's able to do a LOT in his head. But that's a bad long-term plan because he sometimes makes silly mistakes when he does that and has to re-do everything. Plus, he often KNOWS how to do a math problem but doesn't know how he knows it. It's as if he can just look at some math problems and know the answer. But someday he'll be doing calculus and he needs to understand the process. (Or so I've heard. I have no personal knowledge to confirm that claim because I never got past algebra.)

To sum up, I'm telling him: take your time, be patient, make sure you carefully document each step and just generally do your best work.

In the meantime, I'm whining internally to myself about how I want to be a successful author but I'm not taking the time to write every day and do all the other little steps it will take for me to create success. It's as if I just want it to fall into my lap - not unlike my third grader who just wants the math to go away quickly without taking the effort to learn it.

It shouldn't be that hard for me. When I do write every day, I am happy and fulfilled. So why wouldn't I be writing?

I don't want to spend the rest of my life in an office, putting up with people who are nice but insanely power-hungry or completely apathetic to the point where I have to do their jobs for them if I have any hope at all of making a difference in my tiny little niche. So...why wouldn't I be working hard every day to create a career for myself that will free me from this?

It's time for me to take my own advice: take every single step that is required to accomplish my goals, do my best work, stop wasting my time with whining and make sure I avoid the people who are bad influences in my life.

I'm full of wise, motherly advice. My kids may or may not follow it, but I will.

Talking Through My Panic

2011-12-12T20:48:00.003-06:00

You know how sometimes your kids will scare you? I mean, really scare you - not just shake you up a bit? Today, I took my youngest in for allergy shots just as I've been doing approximately three times a week for the last few months. Nothing notable happened while we were at the doctor's office other than his statement that these shots hurt more than the other ones. (We had just moved up into a higher concentration of medicine, the last step before hitting the 'real' allergy shot dose.) But all during the 30 minute observation period at the doctor's office, there were no signs of a bad reaction.

No. Why have a dangerous reaction at the doctor's office if you can have it at home later on? His body decided to go into an allergic asthma attack during the 15 minutes I left him at home while I ran to the grocery store to pick up four items for dinner. Picture this: the second I walk back into the house, he meets me at the door begging for his asthma inhaler. I was surprised I couldn't hear the wheezing from the front yard. It was THAT BAD. And yes, I felt like the worst mother on the planet.

Within 10 minutes the asthma inhaler and Benadryl seemed to have things under control, but he's still not completely cured - even at this late hour. I honestly think his arm will be bruised tomorrow from the swelling where he received one of his injections. All of this started at about 4:15 this afternoon and it seems to me that I have been talking constantly for the last five hours. Whenever I stop talking, panic starts to set in and I really, really don't like that feeling.

I've spoken to the after hours nurse twice (once when I thought things were going to be ok and then again 10 minutes after that when I realized his injection site had quadrupled in size), spoken with my husband CONSTANTLY, and finally been coached by my mom who went through the exact same thing with my own baby brother back in the 1970's.

Talk, talk, talk. I talk because I need a bit of reassurance but I honestly think that I also just sometimes need to hear the sound of my own voice. It keeps the demons away to a certain extent. I don't want to hear those voices reminding me that although I chose to have this child and I can do my very best to protect him, he has his own demons to fight during his life and I am not in control of the outcome. Asthma is a demon that is very real in my family. I'm grateful for modern medicine and beyond grateful that we have access to health care, unlike so many Americans, but that damn asthma demon doesn't seem to be going anywhere in the near future.

So to keep my fears at bay, I talk, talk, talk. And write in my blog. And at the end of the evening I do remember to pray. The first prayer that comes to mind is, shockingly, one of gratitude. For my family (especially my husband who listens to all the talk), for the fact that I could relatively easily pay $72 for a new asthma inhaler and epi-pens tonight, and simply for every single breath that we are able to take.

I guess Mary had some health scares with her little boy a couple of thousand years ago. Every mother does. Who knew that being forced to learn about epi-pen use for the first time in my life would make me look at Christmas in a whole new light? We bring life into the world and do the best we can...but I guess it always comes down to faith in the long run.

Accomplishments

2011-12-03T22:03:00.002-06:00

Up at 8-ish (or maybe 9-ish) to bake a double batch of my kids' favorite cookies (cane-sugar free of course) and make the grocery list for the nice Sunday lunch planned for tomorrow. Then...off to Whole Foods.

Back home before going with entire family to Target to stock up on cousin and babysitter Christmas gifts and then heading to eye doctor where we find out that the bad eye genes CLEARLY run on only the female line of our family. Good to know...

Oh - also took a trip to the fabulous bulk spice shop to stock up on cinnamon, allspice, anise and cloves so that we would have all of our supplies for the homemade Christmas gifts we are making this year.

Then home again to bake rosemary foccaccia bread which tastes great but looks bizarre. Prepped food for Sunday lunch so David will be able to get it together for me while I'm singing in second service.

FINALLY- tonight...I edit Chapters 1 - 5 of my novel and email them off to my daughter so she will be able to read them after she finishes her science project (probably tomorrow evening).

It's nice to get to the end of the day and say...I did that! Plus...it's way cool to feel how heavy 50,000 words are all printed out on actual paper! (I'm old fashioned and like to edit with paper and pencil.)

Goal for this weekend...

2011-12-02T11:12:00.003-06:00

I need to read my NaNoWriMo creation this week, with pen in hand, to make notes about directions I want to take it in the long term. My feelings are a combination of terrified anticipation and excitement. (Terranticment?)

I suspect I will find quite a bit of crap. I'm also hoping to find a few jewels buried in the morass.

Wish me luck.

Instead of Cowboy Boots....

2011-11-28T21:57:00.000-06:00

It's funny how things are meant to be...or so it seems.

About 18 months ago I was working hard on THIS BLOG while waiting for my daughter at choir rehearsal. A fellow mom (whom I did not know well at the time but has since become like a sister to me) asked if I wrote. I answered honestly, as I am prone to do even when it is inappropriate. In this case, it was a good thing. I said I was supposed to write but doubted myself.

[In a seemingly unrelated sidenote, I decide about that time that what I really want for my 40th birthday is a pair of cowboy boots, so I resolve to ask for money for said boots. I imagine looking all sexy in a dress and boots.]

A few months later the choir mom told me about an Artist's Way group she had just begun. I said it sounded great and that I should find one. She said "No, join ours." I took a risk and did that. It changed me for the better and I found my inner power in a new way. (Sounds dramatic but it is shockingly accurate.)

Then, sister-in-law (a Jennifer) tells me about NaNoWriMo last spring (or round about then) after I tell her how much I am getting out of my Artist's Way group and the NaNo seed is planted. It sounds crazy but I can't let go of the idea.

Artist's Way group ends. A dear friend, yet another Jennifer, tells me about a book that she thought would really speak to me. Stephen King's On Writing, in which he tells the story about how he became a writer and offers advice about finding your true voice. I read it right before jumping into the NaNo adventure. I love the book but don't really GET IT until I've been writing every day for two weeks.

November 1, 2011 - I am finally more confident and sure of myself than ever before. I am ready to "do this thing" as they say. And...I do it.

Today, I bought Danielle LaPorte's Big Beautiful Book Plan. Danielle is a blogger I follow only because another dear work friend (one of the few non-Jennifers in this timeline) encouraged me to read her work for inspiration. The BBBP just came out today, right after I finished NaNoWriMo, right when I feel certain there is another (bigger, better) path for me, and right when I became ready to work for what I want in life.

Take it all the way back...if I hadn't been working so hard on this blog (I concentrate very hard on most of my posts), if friends had not reached out to me to tell me about books/groups/blogs/crazy-efforts-to-write-50,000-words-in-30-days then none of this would have happened and I would be buying cowboy boots with my birthday money.

Which would, admittedly, be quite stylish and cute....but not nearly as satisfying as completing my very own book.

The cowboy boots will come and I'll probably be wearing them at a book signing in your hometown in the near future. (I can write like a confident diva in my blog because only about five people read it. Plus, you remember that issue I have about being completely honest even when it's not appropriate? Yeah. That issue ain't ending in the near future.) In the meantime, I'll be doing exactly what another sister of my heart recently advised:

"Get over yourself and go out there and save the world. Or write the Great American Novel. Or whatever. I believe in you."

I believe in me too.

VICTORY!!

2011-11-27T18:03:00.002-06:00

I did it! At precisely 6:01 p.m. central standard time (or round about that time) - I hit 50,006 words on my NaNoWriMo novel!! Thanks to my blog friends for pulling me through this. The novel is about as stream-of-consciousness as it is possible for a novel to be. Much, much work lies ahead of me before anyone will be able to read it (I haven't even finished the story yet!) - but I'll be taking a writing break from this novel for a bit before I come back to it. My plan is to read it in a week and see where it takes me....

Anyway - what matters to me right now is that I did it, I did it, I did it - and now it's time to celebrate!

46,220

2011-11-26T12:28:00.002-06:00

I have now passed the last status bar on the NaNoWriMo website that remains between me and victory at 50,000 words. I'll try to tackle a little bit more later tonight but right now it's raining and I feel like sleeping for a bit before I get behind the wheel of my car to drive out to my in-laws' house.

42,754

2011-11-24T19:47:00.002-06:00

Yes. I rock. I know.
Cooked an entire Thanksgiving meal (including pies because that's how you show your family you love them...baking fattening food for them) and managed to write just over 1,000 words today.
Now...the plot is going in about a thousand different directions and makes absolutely NO SENSE whatsoever...but the stuffing was fabulous.

I can fix the plot later. I can almost taste victory now...I'll be buying myself a NaNoWriMo winner's t-shirt within the week.

41,128

2011-11-23T22:09:00.002-06:00

Tomorrow will be a day of cooking, of course. But I am determined to squeeze in both a walk and at least 850 words before I crash at the end of the day. Don't ask me why I am saying it needs to be 850 words because that number just popped into my B12-deprived brain. I'm off to bed so that I'll be fresh enough to make some seriously kick-A stuffing tomorrow.

39,149

2011-11-22T08:06:00.002-06:00

Squeezed in about 200 words this morning before I took the kids to school. Alllllmooooost there........

38,909

2011-11-21T20:37:00.003-06:00

...and I REALLY want to break 40k tomorrow. Now I wish I didn't have that church choir gig.

Damn. (Not very church-y of me to say that, is it?)

37,823

2011-11-20T19:37:00.003-06:00

I'm rocking along. Well, technically - I'm scootching along but it works just fine because I was totally rocking early on so I'm still ahead of schedule. I just found out that one of my characters is knocked up and she isn't married. Of course, she lives on a totally different planet and I'm not even sure there is such a thing as marriage there (although probably there is...it is sort of old-fashioned). So this has been a fun adventure of hearing the voices in my head begin to criticize me and tell me that parents will disapprove of my book once it's published.

When, really, it's totally not my fault. I am so not in control of my characters. And I guess plenty of parents hated J.K. Rowling's books too. And Madeleine L'Engle's amazing work. So I suppose if they hate me too I'm in perfectly good company.

30,754

2011-11-15T13:58:00.000-06:00

I failed to provide an end-of-day update yesterday, didn't I? But when I checked my blog today and saw two comments, my heart was all full of happiness...merci beaucoup, mes amis! I blew past that 30,000 stat line on the NaNoWriMo website and am now feeling a bit antsy since I have yet to write anything today...which just goes to show that this NaNoWriMo exercise is doing exactly what it's meant to do - force me into a habit (*obsession??*) of writing each and every day, at every spare moment.

Had a work-related nightmare over the weekend (horrible, horrible), then spent the morning realizing exactly how UN-empowered I am there. Less than stellar morning, to be honest. At home: I just got off the phone with my mom, planning holiday stuff which is mostly fine but maybe just a wee bit stressful and I had my first weigh in for Weight Watchers - did not lose an ounce. Needless to say, I'm not feeling too great about myself EXCEPT for my glorious 30,754 words. In that regard, I know I rock - so I'll just keep coming back to those words whenever I sink a bit.

26,097

2011-11-13T21:07:00.002-06:00

I made my goal for the weekend - I'll be doing a little work from home tomorrow but mostly taking a vacation day. I think the public library is probably the best place for me...I would go to a delicious coffee house of some sort but that would cost money and calories - neither of which I can afford to waste.

The biggest thing that has changed for me in the past 13 days is that I've stopped saying "If I write this book" and I'm now saying "When I'm finished with it and published..."

In a short 13 days, I've begun to believe in myself in a completely new way.

24,763

2011-11-12T17:20:00.003-06:00

Also known as 237 words away from the halfway point. That was my goal for Sunday night. Perhaps I already mentioned it. Feel free to let me know how amazing you think I am.

Oh, and I've stuck with Weight Watchers this week. So far, so good but of course I haven't been back on the scale yet.

19, 546

2011-11-10T16:25:00.004-06:00

New NaNoWriMo goal = 25,000 words by Sunday evening. I'm taking a day off of work on Monday to just write, write, write. I'm inspired and figure that if I can make it halfway there before I even get to my writing vacation day, then I'm in for all kinds of great success.

Tonight my daughter is spending the night with a friend and my son is having someone over. My husband will be at a Scout leader meeting until about 9:30.

Alana-Kyn (my new FABULOUS main character in the prequel - who seems to be dealing with a certain amount of Asberger's Syndrome as it turns out - not that I planned it or anything, it's just one of those things she showed me) and I will have a grand ol' time getting to know each other better for a couple of hours tonight.

Who am I kidding? She doesn't even know I exist. And if she did she'd say "...Whatever" and get back to her math.

Eureka!!

2011-11-09T14:04:00.003-06:00

Life works in mysterious ways. (Or maybe not, God is probably sitting in heaven right now saying: "Duh. This is how I work, girl.")

I had a great lunch today with my two artist friends who also happen to be recovering attorneys. Afterwards, as I was driving to HEB to buy laundry detergent and bananas, I was struck with a sudden inspiration that I needed to go back to the very beginning of my novel and write a prequel or Book One - which would give the historical perspective of why the planet is in the state it is right now. I've been frustrated because when I try to get my characters to explain things, it sounds stupid - I need to tell the story in REAL time - what happened before these characters came along.

Now the words are pouring out of me again. I'll update my word count in the comments to this post before I pick my son up from school...but I think it will be awesome.

16,177

2011-11-08T18:08:00.002-06:00

I started Weight Watchers today. And I'm worried about whether my kids are going to have enough self-esteem as they grow up. And also...even though I'm trying my best to keep our lives from being too busy - they just ARE.

But....did I mention I'm at 16,177 words as of 6:09 p.m. on November 8th? So even if I'm overweight, a mediocre mom, and profoundly exhausted - at least my stat bar made it over that illusive 15,000 line on the NaNoWriMo chart that shows how far along I've come.

Now...if I could just figure out where on earth I'm heading with this story...

14,734

2011-11-08T05:59:00.002-06:00

I am sooooo tired. Perhaps I'm dreaming about my novel? I'm a little discouraged because I can't imagine what I'm going to have my characters do for that many more words...

I have a vacation day planned. Next Monday. All I plan to do is write.

13,193 Words

2011-11-07T14:12:00.000-06:00

This sounds impressive but it is, in fact, just barely ahead of where I should be anyway with my novel. (On day 7 of NaNoWriMo, you should have at least 11,669 words.) I fear my writing is not as polished as I would prefer and I need to think of a few fascinating things to describe in great detail. I've had the explosion, and presumably killed off at least 40 people (although this has neither been confirmed nor denied) but it didn't take nearly as many words as you might at first presume.

Truthfully, I might have to create a love triangle. It wasn't what I wanted for my characters, but damn if that won't get some dialog and thought bubbles happening all over the place. I can pretty much guarantee that I could stretch "You kissed her?????" into at least 1000 words.

At 36,807 more words to go...I guess I need to build towards and include some smoochy face in this novel somewhere. My Tom Clancy skills are too sorely lacking to depend on action/adventure to pull me into the 50,000 word territory.

And I've got to find a way to pull the rich spoiled brat back into the story. She just doesn't fit yet - or else she's refusing to participate.

My characters are unruly children. Doing their own thing (in far fewer than 50,000 words) and snubbing their noses at me.

11,097 Words

2011-11-04T22:20:00.003-05:00

The number is now so big that it requires a comma. I've begun to dream about numerals...sort of mixed in with this character who I thought would be my main character but has refused to re-enter the story since I first wrote about her in Chapter 2. I think she's dissing me. But she's sort of a rich b**ch so that might be unsurprising when it gets right down to it.

I'm driving from Waco to Dallas tomorrow so I'm off to sleep for the moment. Who knew that writing 50,000 words in 30 days would inspire so many new blog posts?

9762

2011-11-03T20:21:00.000-05:00

And...I'm now at 9762 words. That's 240 words away from my goal to hit 10,000 words before Sunday evening. I promised myself that if I did that, I'd let myself take a vacation day to write later in the month. It's a good thing I'm on a roll. My husband was teasing me earlier and telling me that I needed to get going with this writing business and stop messing around because he was ready to be obscenely wealthy. "Alrighty then" I said, "I'll get right on it."

If all of you promise to buy my Kindle book for $2.99 then I should be able to clear at least $12 before next Christmas.

So, here's the thing....

2011-11-03T16:15:00.000-05:00

There's this guy at work who I thought liked my work but he's started to maybe turn on me because he sent a really snarky email today....or maybe I'm just too sensitive (imagine that). At any rate - when I felt attacked today all I thought of was "I've written 7,765 words in the past three days. What, exactly, have you accomplished?"

Hah.

6292 Words, Ladies and Gentlemen

2011-11-02T20:29:00.000-05:00

Or maybe just ladies. Not sure I have many guy readers although my husband and his friend used to read it every once in a while.

And yet, I digress.

6292 words - only two days into Nanowrimo!!!

I'm at La Madeline's, I just finished my first Nano Write-In, and the cold front just this second arrived. It's my cue to head home and celebrate my brilliance with a bubble bath and flannel PJs, don't you think?

4,586 words

2011-11-02T11:13:00.000-05:00

It's November 2nd and I'm 4,586 words into my 50,000 word novel. I'm following Stephen King's suggestion to just put the characters out there and see what they do. They are certainly surprising me at every turn. Spending too much time in the Nano forums and am now obsessively worried that my computer isn't counting my words accurately and I'll have a nasty surprise when the Nano-bots count my novel at the end of the month. It's always something, isn't it?

Nano What-O?

2011-10-29T20:29:00.000-05:00

Nanowrimo: the the latest Jenn-venture. For those of you who know me (and you wouldn't be reading this blog unless you knew me) - you've probably lived through a few Jenn-ventures in the past. There was the 6-year no-sugar, no-meat (and sometimes no eating at all) period of my life, for example. A more recent Jenn-venture entailed a campout (on my own) over a long weekend so that I could become a Boy Scout chaplain. And who could forget the time I got headshots and decided to pursue a career in acting before deciding to give up on that dream for a while so that I could make a lot more money at a job that made me miserable? Classic Jenn-logic.

Nanowrimo stands for National Novel Writing Month. Participants in Nanowrimo attempt to write a 50,000 word novel in one month. (Really, it's just a 50,000 word first draft because at 1,667 words per day - editing is verboten.) I've already promised myself that if I knock out 10,000 words in my first week then I will reward myself with a vacation day at some point during November so that I can write like a woman possessed for 12 straight hours. But FIRST I must prove to myself that I'm serious about this business.

If you're willing to tolerate short blog posts with poor grammar I'll keep you updated on my progress. I decided to take Stephen King's advice and pursue a genre that I enjoy reading instead of writing about what I know (there are too many legal thrillers anyway). So, dear readers (all 3 of you)...which genre do you think I'll be diving into on Tuesday morning?

a. lusty, frothy romance
b. horror
c. science fiction
d. chic-lit

Post your guess. Your enthusiastic support might be the difference between me successfully drafting the next best-seller and me wasting time with 30 Rock reruns.

No pressure, of course.

How To Get Over Yourself

2011-10-17T19:02:00.000-05:00

Today I listened to Danielle LaPorte's interview for the World Changing Writing Workshop. She asked: "What would someone pay $100 an hour to learn from you?"

[Crickets chirped in the background as I considered my options...this wasn't an uplifting query.]

Technically, I am a lawyer - and a pretty good one at that. I could certainly get paid to practice law. Come to think of it - that's exactly what people pay me to do now. The problem is that it doesn't really float my boat. So...what other skills do I have that are potential gold mines?

Cooking? Not really. My food is completely un-photogenic.
Wine tasting? HAH! Um. Nope. I like to drink it but think it's stupid when people say they taste cayenne and grass in chardonnay. If I ever really tasted grass in my wine, I'd think the wine store screwed me over big time.
Starting my own business? I wish I was an expert in that, but that would be another big fat NO.

Around the time I was looking for my wig in the Halloween store, it dawned on me that I could write a "how to" article about getting over yourself because, as it turns out, I've had to do that in spades over the last few years. Repetitively. I'd be falsely modest and state that maybe I'm the only one who needs to get over myself but we both know that's not true, don't we? To be clear, in my mind "getting over myself" means that I roll with the punches when someone treats me disrespectfully, refuses to do their job, or acts like a complete jerk. (The aforementioned disrespectful, lazy and/or jerky individuals are hereinafter referred to collectively as "Apparent Loser" or "AL.")

A step-by-step guide to getting over yourself:

1. Acknowledge that, in your opinion (and maybe in the opinion of most right-minded people), AL is a worthless excuse for a co-worker/teacher/relative/__________ (feel free to fill in the blank as you see fit). Seems counter intuitive, I know. But the truth is that none of us have a prayer of getting over the misdeeds of another unless we first admit that we are completely pissed off at them.

2. Consider whether it is critical that you confront AL about his/her behavior. This is the tricky part, boys and girls. You see, I know you think AL should stop being a jerk/lazy/worthless because it causes you unnecessary misery/work/stress, but is it really essential that it turn into a battle between the two of you? This is honestly the most difficult step for me because I am the princess of the "it's not fair" argument. As many times as Momma told me "Life ain't fair" growing up, you'd think I'd get it by now but ...that's a tough truth to accept. So here's what you do. You ask yourself - What's the worst that can happen to me (or someone I love) if this behavior continues indefinitely? In a few cases (such as a teacher who is treating your kid horribly or a spouse whose actions are leading to marriage deterioration) the end results could be very detrimental. However, in most cases it's obvious that nothing bad will happen other than the fact that your stress level increases exponentially. The worst damage caused by most ALs is high blood pressure for the recipient. And guess what? The recipients (you and I, dear readers) are really the ones in control of that situation.

3. If it turns out to be critical that you confront AL, then do so in an upfront (i.e. NON-passive-aggressive) manner and expect change to happen because of the conversation. If you approach the conversation with an open mind, you might actually learn about some adjustments that you could make in your behavior that would help the situation. If such adjustments would be helpful - make them.

4. If it's not critical that you confront AL (and this will usually be the case) - that's when you've got to get over yourself. Which is so much easier said than done. Lucky for you, I'm here to walk you through the process.

Start by being honest with yourself about the last time you were lazy or rude or useless. If you're like me you'll try saying: "Well, sure, but I never act that way at work!" or "Well, sure, but he deserved it!" DON'T do that.
Next, try to remember the last time that you had a truly terrible day and you treated someone else like poo or just plain forgot to do something. Remember it? Well, maybe AL's day was worse.
If all else fails, ask yourself whether you can you walk away from the situation. Maybe it's no fair that you have to leave your job because someone else is mean or lazy - but nobody ever said life was fair. If you have another option that will make you happy why not take it? Maybe your child needs another teacher. Maybe you need a different friend. You can't fix some meanies and those are the ones you sure don't need in your life.
Finally, it's just like your mom used to tell you (or maybe she didn't - maybe it was just mine): you can be mad at that person all you want, but the only person you're hurting is yourself. Do you feel that stress headache coming on? Did you notice how you ran straight to the candy machine at work? Uh-huh. Momma's right. Don't let AL win in the long run by making you sick, sugar.

For most things, we just need to let it go. That bears repeating... and I will do so.
Let. It. Go.

Do I follow these steps all the time? Heck no. I'm lucky if I follow them 25% of the time. Not only that, I'm fully aware that God has a sense of humor so I expect that she'll send me a doozy of an AL within 48 hours of me hitting that bright orange "Publish Post" button at the bottom of my screen. As a matter of fact, I'm really writing this so that I'll be accountable to my tribe. The next time you hear me complaining about someone (and I will) you now have this handy reference so that I can be reminded of how to get over myself.

Or you could just keep your advice to me short and sweet.

Let it go, Jenn. Let. It. Go.

40-Year-Old Jennifers and the Conspiracy to Conquer Life, Art and Happiness

2011-10-10T19:08:00.001-05:00

You may or may not be aware of this fact, but a significant number of Jennifers are turning 40 right now. That's because, for some bizarre reason, every second mother in 1971 named her daughter Jennifer. The best explanation I've heard for this is that the heroine in Love Story - the one with the really screwed up idea about what love "means" - brought the name Jennifer to the attention of America. My mom swears up and down that's not where I got my name. Maybe it was some huge cosmic coincidence. Who knows? We're here now. We were all born together, we all went to kindergarten together (many of us singing happily along to Free to be You and Me), we all watched M.A.S.H. reruns with our parents when we got home from our dates in high school (we never could get past the fact that Alan Alda was supposed to be narrating Free to Be, not acting like a drunk doctor), and then we went to college BEFORE everyone started taking notes on laptops. (Then we felt very old five years later when we found out those graduates didn't even buy spirals for their classes. It was as if we were the last vanguard of traditional note-taking students.)

Now we're 40. Some are married, some are divorced, and some stayed single. Some are moms, some of us didn't go there. Some are straight, some are gay. But we're all at that point in life when a woman looks around at her life and, if she's lucky, decides that it's time to write that book, or paint that watercolor, or take that trip that's been niggling at the back of her mind since she was twenty. I'm there and have been slowly building my support group around me as I take baby steps into my artistic future.

As it turns out, I require a tremendous amount of support. Thankfully, I'm surrounded by fabulous friends and family. They've been on the "Jennifer-can-do-it" train for a while now, encouraging me to jump on the bandwagon. I finally decided it might be a good idea to hop on board. I've been building up my courage and support before taking that big leap.

My support system is not primarily made of Jennifers. As a matter of fact, a few of my strongest supporters are men (I've yet to meet a male Jennifer...guess I'll add that to my bucket list). But two of the people who've given me the most to think about in the writing department also happen to be named Jennifer. And both of them were born in 1971. I like the idea that we were all going through our 1970s childhoods (subjected to corduroy pants, the Muppets, and really horrendous pop music) at the same time and found each other on the other side.

I'm beginning to think of this web-o-support as "The Jennifer Club" - but you don't have to be named Jennifer to be a part of it. (Megan was my first and best non-family cheerleader, so she's really the inaugural member of the club.)

In twenty more years, we'll all be 60 years old. As long as The Jennifer Club sticks together and continues to support each other, each decade will improve. So watch out world...I wasn't joking when I said I was going to be conquering you during my forties. It took a few decades, but I think I finally believe that Free to Be message. Thanks, Marlo!

New Beginnings

2011-09-11T20:55:00.000-05:00

I didn't plan to write this post on the 10th anniversary of 9/11, but when it comes right down to it - it's rather a good day to be thinking about new beginnings. Clearly, I haven't written in ages and I suppose I feel a certain safety in the idea that I'm really just writing for myself at this point. For some reason, I was finally willing to finish a post and hit the "publish" button tonight.

I'm in the somewhat confusing position of being aware that I've changed rather significantly over the last 5-6 months but not being able to find the words to describe the changes. I think this posting is my attempt to categorize the changes.

It all began when I worked my way through the book The Artist's Way with a group of friends. Honestly, we weren't very close at the beginning of the process but we're now as close as brothers and sisters. The book forces you to look pretty honestly at your past, your hangups, and what you want from your life. It then gives you powerful tools to pursue your art every day. Things rapidly began to change for me and then...as happens to many people who work with the book...I started to retreat from my art again. I'm in the midst of that retreat right now. Here's an interesting fact: once you start to pursue your dream and prove that it's possible, it can be a little bit too much to handle. You wonder why you didn't try before, you wonder whether you'll give into the temptation to fade into the background again, but you can never really completely go back to the stagnation you were in before you got a taste of what it felt like to really pursue your art.

I suppose I won't write about the multiple injuries and emotional tragedies that seem to be filling each of few weeks remaining in my 39th year. They feel quite significant to me, as if I'm clearly supposed to be understanding a deeper message from the pattern, but it escapes me at the moment. Even with all of that, I feel at peace. I'm not always happy, but I have more certainty than ever before. I'm almost defiant. Perhaps that's the message I'm taking from these past 6 months....each day I must remind myself of what I want in life and go about taking a defiant and determined step in that direction.

Here's what I want:
- a healthy, strong body
- a sense of self-love that is strong enough to withstand the judgments of those around me
- to earn money for my writing
- to draw beautiful pictures
- to make it through these busy, busy parent years with a rekindled passion in my marriage

I've been surrounded this week by reminders that life is terribly uncertain and mine is a life overflowing with blessings. Each day, all I can do is take those defiant and determined steps towards love, art and truth as I shuttle the kids to tutoring, scouts, baseball and theater.

Permanent Peace for Dependable Joy

2011-09-09T12:33:00.000-05:00

Peace arrives at unexpected moments.
Peace comes in the midst of chaos.
Grasping for peace brings pain, but accepting pain allows peace to find a place in your heart.

Once peace opens the door, joy floats in - a lovely balloon in the most unexpected color. You remind yourself that it will float in and out of your life but will never completely disappear as long as peace is the guardian, holding open the door to your heart.

My Blog Wordle

2011-08-23T18:05:00.001-05:00

Today's earthquake wordle inspired me to create one for my blog. As it turns out, I blog about food more than I would have expected. The randomness of the words is rather on par for my attitude in the kitchen and everywhere else.

2011-08-02T23:39:00.000-05:00

On April 9, 2011, the Rockhouse wildfire began west of Marfa, Texas and rushed towards Fort Davis. Hundreds of thousands of acres went from grass to ash in the blink of an eye.

The landscape remained black until the rains came. The rains always come, you know. Even the most aggressive drought must end at some point. Water pours into the parched earth and, because it's been so burned, the ground celebrates with the most florid green you can imagine once it soaks the raindrops into the burnt crevasses.

We're in Fort Davis and I'm taking an unusual amount of time to do nothing. When my normal chattering critical voice begins to nip away at my mind, telling me that I won't finish my novel, or save the world's children, or even be much of a cub scout mom for that matter...I just take a nap. Or I drive out to the Chihuahuan Desert Nature Center to sit in the botanical garden and write for an hour. Or....I take a picture like the one on the left.

As soon as we drove into Fort Davis, I was struck by the new green grass and beautiful white flowers set against the burnt remains of cacti and trees. Beauty springing from ashes. Creativity growing out of exhaustion. Love thumbing its nose at pain. Sometimes spiritual messages are subtle and take years to work out. Sometimes they hit you upside the head like a two by four.

Or like a desert flower blooming out of the ashes.

Born This Way

2011-06-21T20:16:00.001-05:00

Just hold your head up girl, and you'll go far

Listen to me when I say...

Overscheduling. Overeating. Undereating. Overworking. Overexercising. Underexercising.

"There's nothing wrong with loving who you are...

'cause He made you perfect, babe!"

Learning. Writing. Growing. Loving.

I'm beautiful in my way

'Cause God makes no mistakes

I'm on the right track baby

I was born this way.

Ready to win. Answering only to myself. Breaking free of it all.

I haven't posted much, but I've been thinking and pondering more than ever. Gaga inspired me to share just a bit, albeit cryptically. Who knew the queen of freakified videos would speak to my soul?

Soup for Sick Tummies

2011-06-12T17:42:00.000-05:00

Tonight I invented a soup that I wanted because my stomach didn't feel well and my son's been feeling poorly all day. I decided to get on my blog really fast to write down what I did because otherwise I'll never be able to create it again and I think I'll want to do so. I'm eating a bowl as I write this - it's quite soothing and delicious.

2 c red lentils (I bought mine from the bulk section at Sprouts...I love Sprouts)
1/2 an onion - diced
1 teaspoon minced garlic (maybe it was a little more than this....maybe 2 teaspoons??)
2 Tablespoons grape seed oil (more or less 2T - just toss some in - mine was garlic/basil flavored)
2 small red potatoes - chopped into small pieces
2 long sticks of celery - chopped into small pieces
1 fresh tomato (from my neighbor's garden...Holly is the best - we traded tomatoes for cucumbers the other day) - Next time I might use a can of diced tomatoes so I get the pieces even smaller and keep the nice fresh tomatoes saved for salads.
3/4 can of coconut milk (It was the part without the cream, for the most part, after it had been in the fridge for a while. I'd used the cream to attempt to make some sugar free, dairy free, gluten free icing for cupcakes. Epic fail - but that's another story...)
3 cans of water - according to my math, that worked out to about 4 1/2 cups of water
cardamom - this is my new favorite flavor. I think I put in about a tablespoon but I wouldn't swear to it - you can also buy this in bulk at Sprouts, which is good because it is an expensive spice.
sea salt - probably a teaspoon??? (I know, I know...this recipe isn't very helpful, is it?)
fresh ground pepper - I just held it over the pan and ground for a while. Your guess is as good as mine on the amount but it wasn't a whole bunch.

Heat the grape seed oil. Add the onions and garlic, saute for a few minutes.
Toss in everything else.
Bring to a boil then simmer for about 10-12 minutes. (Red lentils cook really fast. They're pink when they're dry, then they're yellow-ish after they've cooked so "red lentils" is a bit of a misnomer but who am I to judge?)

Ok, so it doesn't look like much but I swear it's wonderful and I did the whole thing (including kitchen clean-up) in half an hour. The cupcakes in the background are the sugar free, gluten free cupcakes that my son loved - this time I used eggs and he liked them less. Hmmm. Guess I'll go back to the less puffy, flax-seed substitute cupcakes next time. To each his own, I always say.

Now if I could only get the icing figured out, I'd cry with joy. I didn't post a picture of my latest icing fail because I don't want to gross you out. Let's just say that it's sitting right next to my husband at our kitchen bar as he works on his model and it could clearly substitute as model glue. For all I know, he's already used some for that purpose.

Come to think of it, the icing ingredients were quite expensive. I hope he does use some as glue because at least then it won't be a total waste.

My Manic Kitchen

2011-05-27T12:29:00.001-05:00

If I had a cooking blog, this is what I'd call it. Of course, I don't have a cooking blog (I have what one might refer to as a "Rambling Blog") and there are plenty of other people (like my talented friend Mandy) who have excellent and inspiring cooking blogs. I follow in the footsteps of giants when it comes to cooking - I typically take someone else's excellent recipe and revise it as necessary for my household (right now that involves taking out the dairy, eggs, gluten, and sugar - you'd be surprised how good most recipes still taste).

I don't have a lot to offer in terms of innovative cooking techniques or recipes. What I can teach you, however, is how to maximize your ADHD in the kitchen so that you can knock out a stunning number of dishes in a short amount of time while simultaneously working through legal issues for your family business. My style doesn't lend itself to beautiful pictures (unless you find flour fluff spread all over a kitchen visually stunning) but I did take some snapshots of the finished products so you can see what I'm talking about as I give you my timeline.

The mania began yesterday afternoon - I rushed to make my second batch of these awesome chocolate cupcakes posted on My Real Food Life . Both kids loved them and I wanted to make sure and have a supply before we went out to the grandparents for the weekend so that my son would have sweets available to him. I made more than just a dozen but they disappear quickly.

This morning, I got the kids to school at 7:30, then dashed up north to the Williamson County Humane Society to return the three bottle-fed puppies we'd been fostering for the last week. After that, I rushed to Whole Foods to stock up on groceries and baking supplies. I was back at home by 9-ish and the true cooking mania began.

First on the agenda were buckwheat waffles. I mixed up a double recipe (inspired and closely following a recipe found in this book) and as I slowly made a huge stack-o-waffles (to be frozen for future breakfasts), I got on the phone with my dad to work through next steps for his business.

I made a double recipe of these waffles because my son has already told me he simply loves them, so I felt confident in making tons for breakfast over the next week or two.

Once I finished my call with dad, the waffles were still going (it takes a while when you can only make two at a time) so I started on my homemade hummus. My Artist's Way group is coming to my house tonight and I wanted to have at least one option that was homemade.

Man....I hit it out of the park with this hummus. As a matter of fact, it is SO GOOD that I'm compelled to write the recipe down here - not because I think my six readers are dying to try it, but because I want to remember how I made it! I kid you not - this is the best hummus ever created in the history of the planet. Or at least in the history of Austin, Texas.

Jenn's Hummus

Ingredients:
2 cans organic garbanzo beans (drained and rinsed)
1 fresh red pepper
juice of 1 lemon
1/4 cup Tahini
1 - 2 Tablespoons Harissa extra virgin olive oil (I get my flavored OO's from Con Olio here in Austin)
1/4 cup Lemon extra virgin olive oil
salt to taste
pepper to taste

Cut red pepper in half, smear with Harissa EVOO, and roast in oven - watch closely - it just takes a few minutes.

Add all the ingredients in a blender and blend away. Enjoy the view as the hummus turns slightly pink.

After the waffles were cooling and the hummus blended, I started on the Sorghum Banana Bread from that same rice-free gluten cookbook I used for the waffles. Again - this has been a recipe staple for us over the last month although this time around I think I got carried away with the amount of smooshed banana I put into the mix. You wouldn't think of that as a problem, but it doesn't seem to be cooking as quickly as normal. As I write this part of the post, I'm waiting for it to come out of the oven and I need it to hurry up because I'm trying to make it into work today for a few hours! Here's a picture of it right before I put it in the oven for six more minutes....

Once I popped the banana bread in the oven, I started chopping veggies to go with the hummus because I want everything to be all ready for my friends tonight. Now I've finished my blog post and am about to run into work for two hours before I pick my son up after school. I've cooked quite a few things, chopped veggies without injury to myself or others, cleaned the kitchen, and blogged in three and a half hours.

Move fast and cook with gusto. That's my motto!

I'm still here

2011-05-19T14:03:00.000-05:00

Yeah. I know.

It only affects about six people, tops, but I've been avoiding my blog again. It's all good though, and I'm compelled to at least give you guys a brief update.

1. I'm happier than ever before in my life. Truly. It's somewhat stunning, to tell you the truth. I almost don't know what to do with myself.
2. I'm writing. Not every day, but it's happening. Better yet, it's happening in conjunction with my daughter.
3. I harvested two cucumbers and they were both de...li....cious. That's my biggest regret, that I haven't posted a picture of my funky-looking but quite tasty cukes.
4. I realized that what I really want in life right now, more than anything else, is to be a mom. Lucky for me, I just so happen to have two kids hanging around my house all the time. They even call me mom and tell me they love me. What a stroke of good fortune!

Kitchen Massacre

2011-05-08T20:29:00.000-05:00

So it turns out that when your 8-year-old can't eat sugar, you are more than happy to buy him pomegranates and spend a while getting the seeds out so he'll be able to much on them over the next few days. (Strangest fruit EVER.)

And...if you're not used to dealing with pomegranates, then you might end up splattering pomegranate juice all over the world. Before I was wearing this tank top, I'd been wearing a very nice white shirt (don't ask...my mind just doesn't follow typical kitchen logic), so by the time this picture was taken, my white shirt was already soaking in the washing machine. (I'd like to think I at least get credit for that fact.

By the time I'd gotten all of those crazy seeds out of the fruit, it looked like I'd committed a murder. Next time I drink a pomegranate martini, I'll appreciate it much more.

My Wedding History

2011-04-30T09:09:00.002-05:00

I've been thinking about my wedding history this week - a history which really doesn't match my social status at all. My marriage history, on the other hand, is rather strait-forward and basic (met my husband at 18, married at 21, 2 kids and a dog). As any woman over the age of 32 who's been married for at least four years can tell you, weddings and marriages are two entirely different things. (It takes women a bit of time to learn it, but I suspect any man of any age is aware of that fact.)

When it comes to weddings, my first exposure to a wedding (and, thus, my concept of a "normal" wedding) was my uncle's wedding. It was the summer after my first grade year, so I was 5 years old (I started first grade young) and my uncle married this absolutely wonderful, lovely woman from high Dallas society. If I told you her name, you'd recognize it because her family is that well-known - so I won't - but I will tell you that the wedding was at a very large, very nice church downtown and the reception was at the Dallas Country Club.

My cousins and I were bridesmaids, dressed in gorgeous, floor-length white dresses with flower wreaths in our hair, and the men all wore tails. The rehearsal dinner was at the very top of some building in downtown Dallas in a very nice restaurant which I did not even come close to appreciating at that age, but looking back now I suspect I'll never set foot in it again so it's a pity I spent the entire night looking out the window and marveling at how tiny everything looked from that high up.

Needless to say, the wedding was exceptional and I thought: "So this is a wedding? How lovely! I can't wait to do this myself someday!" I think my parents realized a dangerous precedent was set, but what could they do?

A few short years later (I was 9 or 10 at the time), I was up at 3 a.m. to watch Diana's wedding. I'd been following the engagement obsessively and for years afterwards, at every birthday and Christmas I asked for more coffee-table books with photographs of Diana and her wedding. I couldn't get enough of it. Clearly, I'd developed a dangerous perception of what a wedding entailed. I can honestly say that I spent hours poring over every photograph of Diana that came within arms reach of my small hands. Even my obsession with Garfield cartoon books didn't come close to my obsession with my royal wedding books.

By the time I was engaged (aged 20) there was no question in my mind that I'd be married in the evening, the men would wear tails, and I'd have a cathedral length train on my wedding dress. It seemed rather obvious to me at the time. Looking back, I'm stunned and grateful that my parents pulled it off in grand fashion without putting our family into debt. My dad was just starting his business at the time, my kid brother was about to attend college, and we were not wealthy. Not at all.

And yet, I had exactly the wedding I wanted at 21 years old - tons of roses, bridesmaids in white dresses, men in tails, and a brocade wedding dress with a train so long that it probably weighed one-third of what I weighed in my birthday suit. I had fun shopping with my mom for bargains and loved the challenge of getting exactly what I wanted at the lower-cost options in town. Who cared if the flowers came from a bright fuchsia building on the "bad" side of town if the customer service was amazing and the roses were perfect? Those snotty society florists weren't listening to what I wanted anyway. (No baby's breath. Get that stuff out of my bouquet immediately.)

So that's my wedding history. If I'd married later in life, the wedding would take place on a beach and my feet would be bare. But as I watched William and Kate tie the knot yesterday morning (at 3 a.m. with my own daughter by my side), I teared up and smiled as I remembered how I felt watching Diana and what an impact she had on me and my own wedding.

There's something to be said for celebrating the beginning of a marriage in grand style and dressing like a princess for one day in your life. I'm really glad I had that experience, but I think I appreciate it only because it was the prelude to a marriage that's been tough at times but has been 100% worth it because I'm married to someone who treats me royally on a regular basis.

Controlling Basil and Defeating Wheat

2011-04-24T20:15:00.000-05:00

This is my new garden. Not bad, right? Of course, I haven't actually eaten anything out of it yet...but that's a minor detail. I'm sure baby tomatoes, green onions, and a lovely mesclun mix is in my future.

I've realized I'm not in control of cancer, I'm not in control of how other people treat me (or what they think of me), and I'm not really even in control of my career (although I still believe there's hope for a certain amount of career-control after I've racked up a few more grey hairs). Although I know Mother Nature probably has her own ideas about my tiny little garden, I can at least water it every day and plant radishes (a vegetable which adds no discernible value to a plate other than its lovely red color). There's something to be said about grabbing control wherever you can get it.

We just found out that we're going to have to make some dramatic changes to my son's diet (no cane sugar, no high fructose corn syrup, no wheat, no rice, no milk, no eggs, no carrots, no MSG, no benzoic acid....etc....etc....). After a few weeks of feeling out of control about my mom's diagnosis (and other issues), I have to admit that even though I ache for my 8-year-old boy who won't be snacking on treats the way he wants to snack, I was thrilled to be given this challenge. It feels like a gift from heaven to be able to approach a problem academically and actually make some headway against it.

So....the regular gluten-free diet won't work for us because we're also dealing with a rice intolerance? No problem, I found rice-free, dairy-free, egg-free, gluten-free recipes. (I know, I know -you think I'm talking about water and bananas when I say that...but there is a little more variation available to us.)

In a way, my garden and our new diet adventure work hand-in-hand. I'm suddenly a lot more interested in knowing exactly what is going into my children's mouths. Here's an interesting fact: did you know that every single can of chicken broth on the market seems to contain carrots? Carrots are one of the foods that cause the most severe reactions for my little man. As a result, this former vegetarian mom chopped up a dead chicken and tossed it in the crock pot today so I could make my own chicken broth. Broth that doesn't contain anything other than chicken, onion, celery, salt, pepper and water.

Bang. Problem solved.

Hand me another one, world. I'm up for it.

Just Watch

2011-04-14T21:09:00.000-05:00

I tried to think of what I wanted to write to convince you to watch this video but all I can say is watch it. My dear friend K shared it with me today. Just what I needed - but a mere 20 minutes long. All the emails I received from you guys after my last post were great and helpful. I was trying to find the "Truth" - and it really does come down to vulnerability. Once I'm willing to go there, the world will open.

So....watch.

Avoiding What I Want. Or What I Think I Want.

2011-04-08T19:16:00.003-05:00

So, now I'm avoiding writing. I'm also avoiding playing the piano. And I still haven't joined a choir even though I know that's what I want to do more than almost anything else in the world and that once I do it the heavens will align and my life will be complete.

Ok. I don't really think that. But I do want to join a choir and stuff. And I'm not doing it.

I'm not too busy. Don't get me wrong. I'm very busy. Insanely busy. But that's nothing new for me and, really, in the big scheme of things I've been busier at other points in my life. I'm only working 25 hours a week (supposedly) for goodness sake. We have plenty of busy evenings, but we have a lot of nice, quiet family evenings and it's wonderful.

The truly odd thing is that for about a month I was playing the piano every single night. I spent a good 30-45 minutes practicing and even started every practice session with scale-type hand exercises. It was very disciplined and systematic. I got good at it very quickly and was playing easy versions of Beethoven within a week - feeling very proud and fulfilled.

So, let's review. I was happy about what I was doing and (significantly) I felt very successful about it. My family was proud of me and it calmed me down better than wine. It was 100% good for me. It enriched me on a very deep level.

Then, out of nowhere, I started avoiding the piano like the plague. I know that about six of you read this on a regular basis because you email me comments and sometimes you post. You guys know me - so I ask you...what's up with me? I have some theories but I don't even want to post them at this point because I'd prefer to hear your ideas.

Once we get the piano question figured out, I guess I can tackle the writing and choir issues - but I suspect they are strongly related to each other.

Today

2011-04-01T13:55:00.001-05:00

There's writing inside of me today, pushing to get out.

At first I figured I needed to write about how my mom was officially diagnosed with melanoma yesterday and how I've realized it's a good thing I went on a massive chore-orgy in the days leading up to it because I've now got nothing left to give. To anyone. I just need to get by for a few days and the loaf of bread baking in the oven will probably be my stellar accomplishment of the month at this point.

But that's not what I wanted to write.

Maybe, I thought, I'm supposed to be writing about how I'll be spending this weekend camping out with other Boy Scout leaders as I earn my chaplain certificate. And how all I can think about is that I've got to put a tent up all by myself and wondering how far back I'll set the feminist movement if I have to ask a guy for help.

No - that's not it either. All my words today are about my plants.

As you can see, they're humming along rather nicely. So nicely, in fact, that I was inspired to plant some more seeds. What followed is so classic-Jenn that I suspect any one of you could have predicted the outcome.

I tend to do things in a hurry, although my mini-gardens are slowing me down just a bit. Last weekend I was all excited about getting some more stuff going, so I grabbed some small pots (you can't see them in this picture) and planted seeds. As I was planting the seeds, it occurred to me that it would probably be WISE to mark what plant was in each pot. You know. For future reference.

Since I was squeezing this chore in between items #217 and #219 on my to-do list, I decided not to worry about that detail. I figured if I ever wasn't sure what something was, I'd just pull off a leaf and eat it.

(What??? I know. I'm not proud of my thought process, just sharing it here for your amusement.)

At any rate, I now have some cute little plants coming up in my smaller pots, but heck if I have any idea what they are. I'm pretty sure I planted the green onions in the white ceramic pot that I made a while back. But I could be wrong - the cilantro might be in that one.

As I was laughing at myself earlier today, it dawned on me that I SHOULD HAVE grabbed some popsicle sticks from our massive closet-o-art-supplies, identified the plants, and popped those pop-sticks in dirt. Assuming, that is, that I could actually FIND the popsicle sticks in my closet. Yeah. That would've been a good idea. Maybe next time.

In the meantime, I'll try to be more aware of situations like this in other areas of my life. You never know when that "identify things with labels" idea might come in handy again.

Outside

2011-03-25T20:07:00.000-05:00

As I type this, I'm sitting on my front porch (not on a chair but actually on the concrete) - soaking up the twilight and staring proudly at my vegetables. (Yes, I'm that good of a typist that I can actually stare at plants while I type. Remind me to tell you someday about my Junior year in high school when typing was the one class that kept me from a straight A average. Needless to say, I was sufficiently annoyed to master that skill before the end of the next six weeks.)

I have FINALLY planted vegetables in some containers. For years I've wished I could have a garden but I have a very shady yard. I know I've blogged about it before - so really this urge to get my hands dirty and grow food for my family is nothing new. This time around, I already have a few baby green beans, some fabulous basil, baby cilantro and arugula and a nice little bunch of lettuce. I'm beginning to think it might really happen. Everything is in containers, and I keep them in my front yard because that's the best bet for some sunshine.

As I sit out here, I'm closer to being "Jennifer" than at almost any other time. I know I'm "supposed" to exercise or check things off of my to-do list, but nothing seems to matter as much as being out here and listening. It's corny, and I never thought I'd look at it this way, but I almost feel connected to my plants. It's bizarre.

Of course - if they let me down and croak then I'll probably take it personally and hold a grudge. It's a double-edged sword, I suppose.

Next weekend I'll be camping in a tent all by myself for two nights out in Bastrop (Boy Scout chaplain training...). As I sit here on my porch, listening to the wind in the trees, I'm excited about the idea and looking forward to sneaking away into the woods for a few hours with no one else around so that I can just exist.

I do love shopping and a great happy hour, but my home-grown baby vegetables beat out a top shelf margarita and a pair of expensive shoes any day of the week. Even if said shoes are red - and that's saying something.

Changing the World, Or At Least the State of Texas

2011-03-12T16:36:00.002-06:00

Today I took my kids to the Save Texas Schools rally because...
- what's the point of living in Austin, Texas if you don't sometimes get involved and let the Legislature know how you feel about important issues?
- what's the point of those cheap wire clothes hangers except to make political sign holders?
and
- what's the point of being a mom if you don't encourage your children to stand up and make a difference in the world?

We all worked individually on our signs.
Mine said: "Think beyond your next election! Save our schools!"
My daughter's said: "Stop stealing our future"
My son's said: "Give $ back to schools!!!!"

Idealistic? Yes.
And proud of it.

Contemplating Ascetiscism

2011-02-28T17:30:00.000-06:00

This guy who used to work with me once told me that I was an ascetic. Fortunately, since I'm the only member of my immediate family of origin who did NOT attend seminary, I knew he wasn't calling me a bad name. I have had a tendency to give things up (sugar, meat, caffeine...) but - in all honesty - it's not always because I'm pursuing higher spirituality. It's typically because I tend to see my actions in black and white terms. I'm good or bad. Pure or stained.

If I eat too much sugar, then the best solution (in my mind) is to go cold turkey. Actually, that's the EASIEST solution once you get over the initial hump. It's much more difficult to practice a life of true moderation than it is to live your life in either extreme.

I'm contemplating asceticism today because Lent is right around the corner and I've yet to hear a distinct calling for this year's observation (perhaps because I haven't been listening very closely). I've tried it all - I've given up almost anything you can imagine and I've also tried waking up early to meditate or read the Bible every morning. True to form, I'm generally more successful at the "giving up" than I am at creating new (good) habits.

Do any of you observe Lent or any other ascetic spiritual tradition, such as Ramadan? If so - what did you do and how did it work for you? (Remember...I allow anonymous posting so you can be honest!) This year I'm drawn more towards the commitment of a daily meditation, but I really want to hear about your experience before I decide.

Creating Space, Part Two

2011-02-25T13:07:00.000-06:00

For a good 48 hours after that amazing yoga class, I was sore. Sore in a good way, but sore all the same. I was literally feeling muscles in my back that I don't think I've ever used before. I knew at the time that it was taking a lot of effort for me to create that space - I mean, I was sweating and breathing hard just from going into a forward bend! The effort was even more obvious the next day. I decided the most effective way for me to combat my discomfort was to do it again. So that's exactly what I did.

It's a bit uncomfortable to create space. As the normal habits get pushed aside, part of me gets a little whiny and questions whether I'm truly capable of change in my life. I think that if I keep pushing myself a little bit every day to create space in my heart, mind and body, I'll begin to see it as a fun challenge instead of succumbing to the annoying "I can't" messages.

The tag-line for my Myers-Briggs personality is "Anything's Possible." That's what I'm hoping!

Creating Space, Part One

2011-02-23T18:53:00.000-06:00

Today, during my lunch break, I used a gym pass to hit a yoga class. The dude teaching the class was awesome. He took his time and really had us focus on the details of one pose. We probably spent ten or fifteen minutes slowly going into a forward bend, stopping every few inches to create more space in our spines so that we could really access the pose and do the work. It was simply yoga-licious.

The entire lesson was really about creating space and how the yoga practitioners who work on creating space in their core are able to do amazing things. I've felt that idea spinning around in my heart and mind for the rest of the day and there's a lot more I want to explore about it.

By taking the time to create space in my body, I found a whole new experience with the asana. I believe there are other aspects of my life that would blossom if I created space for them.

Creating space in my home gives me a sense of peace and comfort.

Creating space in my mind allows me to be open to new ideas.

Creating space in my heart opens me to forgiveness and love for myself and for others who've hurt me.

Creating space in my habits enables me to let go of the destructive ones and accept healthy new ones.

Creating space in my daily schedule gives me time to accomplish what I envision for myself.

Creating space for mistakes allows me to learn. (This little gem popped into my head when I was about to berate myself for "messing up" part of tonight's dinner. I made space for the mistake and ended up with a meal that was even better once the recipe was Jenn-ified.)

Creating space for faith and spirituality is probably the best idea of all. I believe space is all it takes because what we need is right here - right in front of all of us. When I create the space for God in my life, all the love and joy rushes in and I don't miss what I moved aside so I'd have room for Her peace.

Uttanasa and Virabhadrasana III first opened my (rather sore) hips. A few hours later I realized they'd also opened my mind to a whole new way of looking at the possibilities around me.

Where do you want to create space? Tomorrow I plan to write about how much effort it takes to truly create space. After today's yoga class, I was sweating and exhausted even though I barely moved sixteen inches in any direction during the entire hour. I focused all my energy on new movements and tiny muscles so that I could find incremental space. I had to shut down the part of my brain that wanted to question whether it was "working" and whether I was "able" to create the space. It was an enormous amount of work but so worth it that I can't wait to do it again.

Men and Emotions

2011-02-17T20:39:00.000-06:00

Last night, around 9 p.m., we made it safely back home after laying my husband's grandmother to rest in Borger, Texas. As we drove into our neighborhood, my husband informed us that we'd been away from home for 37 hours and 45 minutes. During that time, we'd driven about 1100 miles.

Needless to say, the trip took a significant amount of stamina.

I mentioned the other day how much I grieved when I realized the end was near. Once we were at the actual internment, the reality of what we were facing seemed to hit my son as well. He turned away from the service and buried his face in my chest, wrapping my coat around the sides of his face. It took me a few minutes to realize that he wasn't just escaping from all the people (sometimes crowds of adults are a bit much for him) but that he was actually crying and didn't want anyone other than me to know how he was feeling.

His grief had real staying power. I know relatives were wondering why he was being unsocial, but he couldn't bring himself to look at anyone. He continued to cry quietly for about 30 minutes after the service, even when we went to some friends' house so that I could change into jeans (he wouldn't change his clothes, nor would he let go of the program from the service). By the time we made it to the Palo Duro Canyon, and once he saw the amazing view, he seemed to recover and had a great time seeing if he could make an echo.

I ached for his pain but I was also very glad that he let himself cry and that he trusted me enough to share his grief. Too often we pressure men to swallow their pain and be the "strong ones." Little boys and young men take those messages to heart. Lately I've been thinking about the kind of love I hope my children find when they are grown. I want them to find a love which allows them to be completely true to themselves - even when they are in pain and want to run away from the world. As I stood on the rim of the canyon with my son, I was thinking about how proud I was of him for crying and how I know my job right now is to let him be the person he's supposed to be. Some day it will be up to him to remain true to himself.

Peaceful Kitchen

2011-02-13T16:47:00.000-06:00

I'm not sure this picture adequately captures what my kitchen looked like earlier this afternoon, but I was so happy as I looked at the sunlight falling on the strawberries in the white dish that I was inspired to take a picture. I guess I just wanted to write about why I'm so happy in my kitchen on a day like this, when the sun is shining and I've got good smells coming from the oven.

Most weeks I bake bread at least once and you can see one of the very nice bread pans my husband gave me for Christmas in front of the toaster (which is not so nice but perfectly adequate for how I use it). I've also become something of an olive oil and balsamic vinegar connoisseur (or snob, if you prefer) because there's an awesome olive oil specialty store not too far from my house. The people at Con Olio know me pretty well and you can see why - there are almost a dozen bottles to the left of the Kitchen Aid. That mixer was another fabulous Christmas gift - but it's pretty old now - I think I received it before my eldest was born, if memory serves - and I've been giving it a run for its money, especially during the last few years - since I started baking my own bread at home. You might be wondering why there are eggs in water. Technically, they are egg shells. I recently read that if you leave eggshells in water overnight, the water becomes enriched with calcium, which is good for your plants. My plants need all the help they can get, so whenever the shells are too cracked to save for cascarones, I plop them into water.

So this is my idea of heaven. Everyone at home, sunshine coming in the open window, bread in the oven and strawberries ready for a snack.

Accepting Grief

2011-02-08T17:01:00.000-06:00

Today we found out that a dear one, my husband's grandmother, is probably close to the end of her life. As I write this, I'm waiting for David to come home so that we can see her one more time. I've learned a lot about how I grieve over the last few hours.

I grieve openly. The second my son got into the car, he immediately told me I didn't sound very good and wanted to know what was wrong. When my daughter came into the house an hour and a half later, the first words out of her mouth were: "Mom, what's wrong?" I wasn't crying openly but I was clearly carrying sadness and grief. Even as I waited in the pickup line for my son, I could feel the grief in the air around me - as if it was a tangible fog. A few years ago I would have tried to pretend everything was ok, but I'm now mature enough to realize that it wouldn't work anyway and - at worst - it might make my children think I didn't care about what's going on right now. I wear my emotions openly and I probably always will.

I also need to be accomplishing something tangible as I grieve. We're fortunate in that we already have a babysitter scheduled for tonight - it was supposed to be date night. That gives us the opportunity to head out to the nursing home so David can say goodbye.Our babysitter is wonderful and the kids love her - she'll be a real support to them. I've been digging through the pantry, preparing dinner for the three of them because it's very, very important to me that I have a hot dinner on the table for my kids and their caretaker before I leave the house. I really wanted to get a fresh loaf of bread in the oven but the timing won't work out. Instead - it's a pretty kid-centric meal of frozen fish fillets (in the oven now), organic macaroni and cheese, and pineapple. Lemon Jello will be their dessert if it sets in time.

Obviously - I also feel the need to write about my grief - even before it's really begun. Our dear grandmother is still with us and plenty of people would be able to put it all aside for a while. I need to start processing now and today I accept that about myself. Most importantly - I want to be a support to David and the kids as they face their own grief. I believe that when we're open with each other about our grief, we are able to love more deeply.

This is my way. Open, tangible, honest. Because I don't want to go through life alone.

Snow Days, Banana Bread, and Bach

2011-02-04T17:57:00.002-06:00

The weather guys (the same ones who've let me down in the past) predicted snow and it actually blanked out town last night as we were asleep. So today we had a Snow Day. As you can see, my daughter announced it in all caps outside of our house.

My day started at 4:30 a.m., not because of my kids, but because of my own exuberance. Once I saw the snow I couldn't go back to sleep - it seemed like forever before I could go outside to play and take pictures. As usual, my husband took the top snapshots - like this one of a squirrel - but I had fun adding the artistic sepia touch.

It's an artistic sort of day. I baked banana bread (baking is the ultimate artistic expression, in my opinion) and practiced the piano. Maybe later I'll write a poem.

The Sixth Grade Definition of "Optional"

2011-02-02T17:16:00.021-06:00

So, the first thing you should know is that it's freakishly cold right now. It's been hovering in the 20's all day. If you lived in Minnesota I guess it might be a bit chilly - but for Austin, Texas - there are simply no words to describe our discomfort.

Because it's a dry cold, we're supposed to go through our days as if nothing unusual was happening. There's no ice on the roads, you know. In the meantime, there were "rolling" blackouts to protect the power grid. Let's just not ask why, if they were rolling blackouts, my house and workplace never lost power but my daughter's school rarely had power this morning.

We'll leave that question to the philosophers, shall we?

Where was I? Oh, yes. It's cold. Bone chillingly, wear-sweatshirt-and-socks-to-bed, remind-me-never-to-move-north-of-Dallas COLD.

Around lunchtime, I got a text from my daughter - which took me aback because there is a VERY strict no cell phone usage rule at her school. She knows it backwards and forwards and that if a phone is seen it will be confiscated and I think there is money involved to get it back...I don't know. It sounds intimidating. She clearly doesn't mess around with it because even when I try to call her on the bus (which is a cell phone approved location) she doesn't answer.

Texts are, by their very nature, somewhat ambiguous. Texts from your middle school child can be exceptionally vague. This lunchtime text read: "Mom, can you please come pick me up?"

Now, call me picky but I need a little bit more context - especially when I receive a text like that in the middle of the school day. I immediately start to worry that some horrible bullying incident has occurred and she sneaked off to ask for help. I text back and tell her that I need her to call me but then say "Of course I will - just call and tell me why." She calls right away (Why did she not call me in the first place? Ponder not the mysteries of a pre-teen's mind, dear readers.). It turns out that the school had no electricity so the principal finally got on the intercom and told the kids that if they were cold, and if they could get ahold of their parents, and if they wanted to do so - they could go home.

Yeah. So. I'll give you one guess as to how many middle school kids decided that they WANTED to stay at school. I mean, I was a total teacher's pet but even I would've jumped at the chance to call my mom for a ride home when I was 11.

Anyway - she warns me that the line to pick up kids was really long but that hopefully it would be better by the time I got there. She wasn't kidding. Parents in line are asking questions about what's going on and one of the security officers rolls her eyes and said that the kids just want to go home. And leaves it at that.

I'm thinking....really? That's the answer? Isn't it true that our kids want to go home every single day of their lives - but you don't normally see three hundred 40-somethings in a middle school, do you? I'm thinking there's more to this story.

I didn't say that. Instead, I said: "Well, wasn't there an announcement? A reason our kids called us?"

She rolled her eyes again (not at me, she seemed nice enough) and responded: "Sure...but it was OPTIONAL as to whether the kids wanted to go home if they were cold. They should have told their parents that - instead they just said they wanted to get picked up."

Because, of course, making it "optional" should have really cut down on the number of calls home and/or ambiguous texts sent to cell phones across North Austin.

I didn't offer a verbal response but perhaps I inadvertently displayed incredulity on my face because she followed that up with: "There's no reason for them to go home, you don't have to get them at all. School's going on as normal and the heat is back on. There's really no reason for all of you to be here."

Again - I didn't have a response to that insight. I did, however, text my daughter, and tell her they told me the heat was back on and that the line to get her out of school was REALLY long. She texts back immediately and said something along the lines of: "They said the heat was working the last two times it broke." Ah. The pieces begin to fall into place.

The good news is that I finally located her, thanks to the hilarious and goofy green hat that she loves to wear, was able to find a kindhearted teacher who was taking names of kids checking out (or else she was just some random woman writing our names onto a piece of paper - either way works for me) so that I didn't have to keep waiting in line. The other good news was that my kid only missed one academic class.

The FUNNY thing is that by the time I got back to the office, I had an email from the school announcing that school was NOT cancelled. (Which cracked me up - as if hundreds of parents just spontaneously decided to descend upon the school en-masse and collect our children.) By the time we got home, we had a message from the district telling us that schools wouldn't be cancelled if they didn't have electricity tomorrow and that kids should just plan to come to school with extra clothes and teachers would be prepared to teach without electricity.

I'm having flashbacks of Little House on the Prairie as I write this. Maybe I'll braid her hair tomorrow. Hee, hee. Easy for me to say, right? Just for that cheek, the gods of electricity might smite me.

It just strikes me as a particularly amusing day in which, perhaps, some people gained a new appreciation of what an "optional" release from school means to kids. I'm hoping tomorrow brings ice and less ambiguity in my life.

Shoes...why hast thou forsaken me?

2011-01-31T20:24:00.000-06:00

When it gets right down to it, I have defective feet. To add insult to injury, I've also got really bad luck.

Plus I'm cheap.

When you add all those factors together, I often end up wishing I could afford a live-in foot masseuse.

I have one pair of dress shoes (purchased right before Christmas) which created blisters so severe that I had open sores on my feet for a week and a half. (This happened BOTH times I wore them. Yes, I believe in giving shoes a second chance even if it's clear that it's an abusive relationship from the get go.)

Although the dress shoes were a bit of a bummer, I can live with the loss. But when it comes to my new hot pink Converses (is it legitimate to make the word "Converse" plural?) - I'm devastated.

Here's the problem. They don't come in half sizes - at least not at Academy. I was about to get the size 8, when David looked at them in my hand and said: "Is that really your shoe size??" Well, no - the truth is that my shoe size doesn't exist. (That's why almost nothing fits.) I'm actually between size 7 and size 7.5 and between a narrow and medium width. Typically I get a 7.5 M because I hate tight shoes (who doesn't, right?). I have to admit that the size 8 sneakers did look a bit odd although they were cooooommmmfy.

Long story short...I went for the size 7's. The second I took them off this evening I felt my feet breathe a sigh of relief and realized that - YET AGAIN - I've purchased a pair of shoes that doesn't fit correctly.

And of course, I discover this after walking in them for 2 miles outside. Because it would have made WAY too much sense for me to realize this in the store. Before I paid for them.

Here's the bright side - they were on clearance for $14.88. Have I mentioned that I usually make my worse shoe decisions when I'm buying them on sale?

I'm keeping these in my wardrobe rotation - they're too great for me to hide them away. If I'm especially fussy one day, just look at my feet. If you see me wearing these shoes, you'll know why.

On a Tear

2011-01-20T20:02:00.002-06:00

Here's the good news - I'm not blue or melancholy this week.

Here's the bad news - I'm getting pissed off at the drop of a hat. And it seems to me that people are dropping hats all over the f*&%*ng place.

For the last few days I've been getting into mini-spats with my significant other. We don't usually do that. I'm not making a judgment about whether that's a good thing or bad thing (some people might claim that it's indicative of the fact that we are too cautious around each other) but it's the truth that we rarely fight. This week, however, I've found myself getting ready to holler over issues which are rather minor, in the big scheme of things. Not just with him - but with EVERYONE. They're all out to get me, it appears.

As proven this morning.

A mere hour before I sent my children to school, the weather "forecasters" said that a cold front would be coming in at lunch or early afternoon but until then the weather would be quite Texas-y. My son goes to recess at 9:30 a.m. I figured that he'd be safe since the front wasn't supposed to come in until LUNCH. Oh, no....I get to work at 7:40 or so in the morning and by the time normal human beings arrived at work, I heard from them that it was already viciously cold. All I could think about was that my baby was going to be out at recess with NO COAT.

I was so mad at the idiot weather people that I jumped up and down in the hallway with my fists clenched. You think I'm just trying to give you a visual by offering a literary hyperbole, but I'm not. I literally jumped up and down. And my fists were tightly clenched. I'll give you a minute to process the mental image of a 39-year-old professional behaving like your 2-year-old niece because of weather unpredictability.

Have you processed? So we're ready to move on? Ok, then.

After my weather temper tantrum, I went into a co-worker's office and said: "You know, I've been mad about everything this week." She proceeded to ask me if I thought I should get on anti-depressants because a friend of hers got such bad road rage that she was afraid she'd hurt someone.

After a brief moment of meditation, I indicated that this anger was actually a rather odd thing for me and I figured I'd be ok without the meds at this point.

I checked email for a few hours and then proceeded to get all infuriated with someone else a few hours later for reasons that are extraordinarily irrelevant. As I sang my way through that bout of anger, it dawned on me that this anger thing isn't actually new for me. The anger has always been there. But...giving myself permission to feel the anger and sort of roll around in it for a while like a puppy in pile of dirty towels? Now that's a new thing.

A really new thing.

And may I just say that every therapist who's ever seen me (don't ask how many, please) since I was 18 years old would be thrilled that I experienced a week where I let myself get a bit pissy.

Having said that...and therapeutic recovery aside...I recognize that it's time I got over my little episode. I'm heartened by the fact that when I told my husband I realized I'd been especially angry this week he looked at me with confusion and told me he hadn't noticed.

That either means (1) I've still got a long way to go in expressing my anger, (2) we're really out of touch with each other, or (3) my kids ended up feeling the brunt of my anger this week. I'm not sure I like any of those options but I like (1) better than (2) or (3).

Did I mention we have a date night tomorrow night? My husband and I - not my kids and I.

I haven't yet decided what personality I'll wear. It's an almost more interesting choice than the shoe options.

Note: A mere 30 minutes after this post, I discovered this video - which matches my mood so well and shows you EXACTLY why Sara B is my favorite singer. I think my goal is to get in touch with that kind of fun-loving expression of anger. How can you not adore someone who covers Cee Lo with such charm? I'm only bummed that we weren't treated to the F*** YOU cover at the Austin performance. Oh, well. This is my new happy mash-up.

Popular Music and Firearm History

2011-01-16T20:15:00.000-06:00

My daughter started listening to the popular music radio station recently. Here's the funny thing, although it seems to annoy my husband (or maybe he just enjoys giving her a hard time about it) - I really like it. I've even started listening to it when she's not in the car. She showed me the video to Katy Perry's song Firework and I simply adore that video. I cry every time I watch it. (Which makes my daughter roll her eyes, but I still think she appreciates the fact that I'm not a complete dork when it comes to popular music.)

My son's enlightened me as well. I was reading Fall of Giants (wonderful, wonderful, fabulous book by the way) when I came across a reference to the fact that during WWI the soldiers used wet cloth to keep the barrels of the big guns (I know "big guns" isn't the technical name, but bear with me here) cool so that the barrels wouldn't warp and screw up the trajectory of the bullets. I called my son in to ask him if he'd heard about it. He took a deep breath and gave me a quite interesting history lesson for about 20 minutes about that topic and other gun-related topics. He spends all his spare time reading books about the military and watching shows like Lock-n-Load. Needless to say, he's got an impressive amount of information stored away in his brain.

The cool thing is that my kids are now old enough that I really can learn stuff from them. I mean, I'm learning cold hard facts on a daily basis. And I love it.

Texans

2011-01-11T20:21:00.000-06:00

I've been going to a lot of meetings lately about the upcoming Texas Legislative Session. In case there are any non-Texans reading this, I should explain that the Texas legislature only meets once every two years and we're required to have a balanced budget. We're also facing a bit of a money crunch. Not as bad as other states are facing, of course [**cough, California, cough**] - but cuts will be made. There's no way around it.

My natural inclination is to get pretty upset about the fact that Texas schoolchildren and Texas children on Medicaid and CHIP (the constituencies I've supported professionally for almost a decade) are almost certainly facing cutbacks. But...this time around...I decided to bypass my anger and be a bit more philosophical about it.

I think that Americans are great because our ancestors really worked their butts off to create a good life. Whether you're talking about Africans who were brought over to a horrible life but managed to etch out a vibrant and joyful culture or Irish who came from starvation and flourished to the point of almost becoming the "normal" culture, we all come from pretty tough stock. No matter where we came from, we owe a debt of gratitude to our ancestors for their amazing stamina and hard work.

I wouldn't trade that American stamina for anything. And yet - I've realized that a side-effect of that American stamina is that we expect people to "boot-strap" themselves up more than other Western cultures might expect. I would argue (and I know this is indicative of my Texas-centric point of view) that Texans are even more prone to extreme individualism than the average American bear. (So to speak...)

I know what you're thinking - I'm about to get political here. You're wrong.

In order for me to be political about this issue, I'd have to take a position - and I'm truly and honestly pondering these ideas.

Do I want our schools to have more support? Of course I do. But this whole mental exercise forced me to recognize that Texas takes this hands-off attitude because of where we came from. I'm not saying it's right but I'm also not saying it's wrong. Heck, my dad and brother are entrepreneurs - amazing ones. I feel the pull of entrepreneurship myself. I value that American/Texan attitude of "just leave me be and I'll figure it out myself."

So, really...I'm just asking the question...how do we continue to value that spirit while finding the right level of boost for our kids?

Buried in Books

2011-01-02T20:24:00.000-06:00

First I moved my book reviews to a different page on this blog. Now, I've started a new blog altogether with my daughter where we can both write about the books we're reading. It's actually rather comical how quickly and how much we read. If there was some way for us to make a living reading, we'd be wealthy beyond all measure.

If you're curious - here's the link: http://momandiread.blogspot.com/.

I think it's going to be one of those exercises that's good for me but difficult because we both have to respect each other's right to express ourselves in our own way but still coordinate our efforts.

Wish us luck...

Taking Down The Tree

2010-12-29T18:08:00.000-06:00

Without being asked, I began the process of taking down the tree this afternoon. Taking our Christmas tree down is a huge undertaking. You don't believe me? Take a gander at this photo of it fully loaded....

I spent at least an hour on it already and made great progress. HOWEVER, there are still at least thirty ornaments that need to be removed. And...I didn't even put up all the ornaments this year. The truth is, there was another project I wanted to do more but I decided to be responsible and take down the tree first. It's never as much fun as putting it up but it's still worth it because I get to anticipate all the fun I'll have next year when it goes up again.

Oh, in case you're wondering who the person is behind the chair, that's my son - working on his Lego Hogwart's Castle, with very Harry Potter-ish hair. He really needs a haircut, but I can't bring myself to ruin his Christmas holiday by forcing him to get one. Plus, I've never been very concerned about sloppy hair. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black....I try to avoid hypocrisy whenever I can.

I've had a few bouts of melancholy during the post-Christmas ride, but not as many as I would normally expect. Whenever I start to feel a little bit blue, I just pull out the flour and yeast. And here's the really crazy thing...although I'm loving this time with David and the kids...I'm also really looking forward to going back to work. What a concept, right?

Of course, I'm probably just looking forward to finding more victims for my baking experiments.

Home Again

2010-12-27T18:01:00.000-06:00

When I was a kid, and we'd arrive back home, my dad would always say: "Home again, home again, jiggety jog." So...whenever I arrive home or think about being back home, that phrase pops into my head. I just looked it up because I couldn't remember the origin - apparently it's a Mother Goose rhyme. I probably knew that at one time, but proceeded to forget it.

Possibly because I've never actually left my house to buy a fat hog.

At any rate, I'm home now - eating leftover tamales and drinking St. Arnold's Christmas Ale while I blog. Could it be any better than that?

I think not.

Once we got home this afternoon, my son immediately found a corner in our living room so that he could put together his Lego's Hogwart's Castle and my daughter went upstairs to listen to music and put away her new Little Miss Mismatched socks and other assorted accessories. I, of course, got straight to baking. My husband was right to be proud of the gifts he'd bought for me - ALL baking-related. I'll be baking bread constantly until I head back to work, I'm sure. Thank heaven none of us has a gluten intolerance.

And I'm hoping my co-workers enjoy bread, because they'll be seeing a lot of it over the next few months.

The best thing about Christmas gifts, in my opinion, is when you get just the right gift from someone you love. It shows you that they understand who you are and value your idiosyncratic qualities.

I've now got a couple of expensive Williams-Sonoma bread pans and a fabulous new bread-baking cookbook. I'm in heaven.

My husband has a new green laser-pointer (which is awesome because it appears to point through the night sky so that you can easily point to stars and constellations).

Even my dad did well this year. He paid a local leather-smith to make my mom a one-of-a-kind purse.

Good Christmas vibes must have been in the air. I hope all of you had just as joyous a season.

How My Family Does Gifts

2010-12-25T15:16:00.000-06:00

Crazy.

That's all there is to it. It's great, but crazy. Well, if you want to be sure and actually watch someone open the gift you got them on Christmas morning, it's not necessarily that great - because the chances of you getting to see it are slim to none. It turns into a sort of free-for-all. Compared to how it was when I ws a kid, it's actually sort of calm now.

My husband's family opens gifts slowly - one at a time - so everyone can see what you got. At first I didn't understand that concept, but now I have to say that I appreciate it.

My family has this approach for present exchanges:
1. fill the tree with a completely insane number of gifts
2. start handing gifts out to everyone so that they end up with a crazy-huge pile in front of them
3. tear into gifts
4. if you're a parent, try to carefully pick up gift wrapping trash from the floor in a fruitless attempt to avoid the loss of small gifts among the debris
5. after the gift opening frenzy is complete, spend the next three hours looking for the gift that you didn't even know you got until your mom mentions it in passing and you realize it got into someone else's pile, or is accidentally buried in tissue paper

When my kid brother was just a baby, and still in his infant seat, we lost him one Christmas. I kid you not. Paper went flying (that was the Christmas I got my dollhouse from my grandparents - handmade and decorated by them) and all of a sudden my mom said: "Wait! Where's the baby??" After a few frantic minutes, someone found him buried under wrapping paper, just playing with the colored beams of light that were coming through to him.

Now he offers the strongest resistance to my attempts to SLOW IT DOWN so that we can watch each other open gifts. He's not having any of that nonsense. He spent the whole morning tossing gift after gift to everyone. In the meantime, I leapt over my nephew in a single bound so I could be there to watch my son open his mountain of Legos.

I'm still looking for a gold bracelet my mom gave me. My husband saw it, but I didn't. I know it's GREAT because I saw the identical one that my daughter and the other female relatives received.

I love my family. We're wild, though. We can't give enough gifts to each other, we can't cook enough food (as evidenced by my three pies, and two "other deserts") and we can't tell enough loud stories to each other. It takes a certain kind of patience to tolerate our approach to life. If you know me at all, then I guess you could sort of just multiply me by about 10 and that would give you the idea of what it's like to be around us at Christmas. Thank goodness for David. Somehow he's able to walk through our loud, tissue-filled living rooms with a smile and a great attitude.

At least he gets all the pumpkin pie, spicy pecans, eggnog bread, and hot apple caramel topping that he can eat for his trouble. Maybe that makes it all worth it.

My Favorite Ornament

2010-12-21T18:26:00.000-06:00

This is one of my very first ornaments. As you can tell from the flattened spout, I used it as a teething toy. My memories of this one are so strong that I can ALMOST remember what it felt like to chew on that spout. The ubiquitous masking tape on the bottom of this ornament indicates that I received it in Christmas of 1972, which means I would have been about 15 months old. Prime teething age.

I remember having tea parties for my dolls with this little tea kettle. If I ever have a bigger kitchen and am able to have a smaller kitchen-themed Christmas tree (one of the few decorating ideas I have) - this will be featured on that tree.

Every year, this kettle shines perfectly when I set it against a lit tree branch. Every January, I wrap it carefully in tissue paper and pack it away with all my other cherished childhood memories.

Tomorrow I leave town so I can spend Christmas with my parents, where I hope I will be creating wonderful Christmas memories for my own children.

And so it goes.

Corn Cob Cinderella? Maybe not...

2010-12-20T17:11:00.000-06:00

Ok, I'm sure you can tell by now that I tended to think just about every female ornament (that wasn't clearly an angel) was Cinderella. I thought she was because she had a broom and a smile. Who else would be smiling as she swept? June Cleaver, maybe? Again, this Cinderella designation doesn't make much sense since she's wearing a bandanna print.

I took a picture of the back so you can see the identifying masking tape, which tells you that "Jenny" (that would be me) received this ornament during the Christmas of 1975. I was born in September of 1971, so she's clearly pretty old. I'm not sure how much longer the corn cob husk will hold up.

Notice how she has that simple little sweet smile and tiny little dots for eyes? I think there was something about those old-fashioned doll faces that just appealed to me when I was a kid. I've read enough about child development to know that simple faces like that are often the best for young children because then their imaginations can fill in the gaps.

I promise you that was the case for me. I had a very active imagination and played with my Christmas ornaments as if they were dolls.

That could explain the ragged appearance of this one. At least she's well-loved...perhaps even "real."

Peace On Earth, Good Will Toward Men

2010-12-16T21:52:00.000-06:00

This is another one of Mimi's gifts to me. I would have guessed second grade, but it's become a recurring theme for me to associate most of these meaningful ornaments with second grade. Whenever I do that, I've learned it's best to assume the association is faulty. Clearly, the majority of my ornament collection did not come into being the year I was seven years old. I bet I could date it online, but that sounds like more effort than I want to take on.

There are quite a few things about this ornament that I find tremendously appealing:

the ancient-rune-looking decorations along the top of the circle and the fact that it was made to look as if it was old wood (when, in fact, it's Hallmark plastic)
the circular shape itself (and how the angel is flying through it)
the front/back continuation of the decoration and words
the blue of the angel's gown and the fact that she's sporting the EXACT same muffin-top haircut I wore for more years than I care to remember
the angel's cute little bare feet

Christmas is right around the corner and I'm down to just two more ornaments I've chosen for this little exercise in self-exploration. Just the other day, I almost pulled another one off the tree...but refrained.

See? I have empathy for my readers.

Cinderella?

2010-12-13T21:45:00.000-06:00

I always thought this lady was Cinderella. I can't remember if it's because my Mimi told me she was or if it was just my own thought process. I'm not actually sure why Cinderella would be carrying a calico purse and have a lace collar. Maybe she's supposed to be someone from the 1860's since she has those big bustles on the side of her dress?

It's the strangest thing to be looking at all these ornaments more closely. I hope I'm not losing all the magic with this analysis.

At any rate, she (let's call her Cinderella just for the sake of this posting...) was always one of my favorites. I loved the sweet face and reddish hair. The funny thing is that she sort of has my daughter's features. My girl has light blue eyes and thick, reddish-brown hair.

My daughter doesn't have little pink circles drawn on her face, but this ornament is enough like her that it almost makes me want to rename it in my mind from Cinderella to my daughter's name.

Have I ever told you that I briefly caught a glimpse of my daughter before she was born? I was just in one of those half-awake moments and I saw her clear as day as an older kid. I was surprised to see that she had red hair. Sure enough, when she came out a few months later - there it was. Lucky girl.

Back to this ornament...she's stayed in much nicer condition than most of my other childhood ornaments. Presumably because she's made of wood and yarn. And because I got her after I was past my teething stage. (More on that in the final posting.) I wish I knew where she originated. But... like many other pieces of my childhood, she just sort of showed up and I have no idea what she represents.

Luckily, I like her and enjoy her company. We can't always say that about all of the "ornamentation" from our childhood, can we?

Bright Angel

2010-12-11T18:52:00.001-06:00

I keep thinking that I made this angel in second grade...but I'm not sure that's right if I also made my Corncob Doll in second grade. This one could have been a church ornament. I definitely remember painting her and I remember that I wanted her to have dark hair (like me). As you can tell, I branded her with a large "J" so that no one would steal her. Because I'm sure she would have fetched a pretty penny on the black market.

Each year, when I put her on the tree, I was always very proud of her. I almost always chose bright colors for my artwork as a child. Clearly, this angel is no exception.

Interestingly, my son just told me that she looks Chinese. I guess the outfit resembles a kimono and of course there's a certain geisha quality to the white skin and red lips, I suppose. In truth, I was just trying to create an angel that looked like me.

Fat Devil-Child

2010-12-09T20:23:00.000-06:00

Every year my Mimi gave me an ornament around Christmas. Her ornaments are the base upon which my entire ornament collection is built. That yearly gift is probably a big part of the reason I give each of my kids and my husband an ornament every Thanksgiving Day. (I started that tradition long before I had kids, by the way – my husband has a bunch of ornaments from me. Twenty, I guess.)

She gave me this ornament in 1983. So, if the engraver accurately recorded the year I was 12 years old. (My daughter is almost 12…that’s a little freaky.) I remember when getting items engraved was all the rage.

Check it out – the engraving was done freehand. Nowadays I think it’s the case that computers and machines do the engraving so it’s all perfect. But this brings back memories of watching the engravers at work in those little kiosks in the mall. I used to be SO impressed with them – my handwriting wasn’t so hot as a pre-teen and I imagined that the pressure to write well must have been intense. I also wondered what happened if they messed one up – did they have to pay for it themselves?

Okay, okay. So I tended to over think things just a bit. Thank goodness I’ve outgrown that tendency, right?

I simply must point out a couple of odd things about this ornament which never occurred to me until tonight, when I really examined it. First of all, the kid putting the letter into the mailbox has a rather big butt. It's hard to tell with this picture, but when you see it in person, you can tell they included a butt crack on the outside of his/her pants. So the kid is either fat or is wearing tight pants. Or maybe both. At any rate, I don’t think those pants are doing him/her any favors in the fashion department.

In addition, I guess this kid is supposed to be an angel because he/she has wings. But the wings don’t strike me as very angelic. They have sharp points. Isn’t that a devilish look? Makes me wonder if there are horns under his/her hat.

I’m kind of regretting taking a closer look at this ornament because now it looks to me as if an unfashionable devil-child with a really big butt is mailing a letter. Guess that’s what I get for over thinking…

I’ll end with a funny story about this ornament. My husband kept trying to steal it from me during our first two or three years of marriage. You see, his sister’s name is Jennifer (she’s just a month younger than me…yet another 1971 Jennifer) and she had an ornament EXACTLY like this. Every time I’d pull it out, he’d say: “Hey, that’s my sister’s. We need to give it back to her.”

Um. No we don’t. Hands off my fat devil-child, dude!

Baby Mouse

2010-12-08T20:15:00.001-06:00

As I understand the story, my mom made this ornament (and the rest of the matching set) for my first Christmas (or maybe it was just the first Christmas when I was scooting around - which technically would've been my second Christmas...). She wanted ornaments that wouldn't crash when they inevitably ended up on the floor.

This set didn't mean a whole lot to me until I inherited it at the age of 28, when I was expecting my first baby. They've been part of my tree ever since, which probably isn't fair - since I had the first grandchild. I suppose I should have passed them on to my brother at some point since he had babies after I did.

Oh, well.

Knowing my mom, she probably had a set for him also. She's actually really great about that kind of stuff. She was born to be a grandmother and I've never seen anyone get so excited about babies.

I love the way this baby mouse was on my tree when I was in diapers and then popped back into my life when I was getting ready to become a mom. He's stayed in great shape, when you consider how insanely old he is. I guess if I was carefully wrapped in tissue paper and stored in the attic every January, I might be in pretty good shape too.

Kwanzaa Angel

2010-12-07T22:21:00.000-06:00

This is the most modern of my favorite ornaments that you'll be seeing over the next week. She's a Hallmark ornament I bought for myself after I was all grown up, but before I was married. I was dating David at the time so chances are I was of drinking age (although that's not certain - for two and a half years I wasn't...).

I remember seeing her and thinking she was the prettiest angel ever. I loved her sweet face and simply had to have her for my tree. I kept thinking about her for days after first seeing her, and eventually went back to the store and bought her.

At the time, it didn't even register with me that she was a Kwanzaa angel. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure I was familiar with Kwanzaa at the time. All I knew was that I thought she was beautiful and peaceful.

This ornament represents the beginning stages of me creating my own home and creating my own kind of Jenn Christmas. And a Jenn Christmas is, admittedly, a somewhat unique creation. We have interesting holiday traditions at our house. For example, just two nights ago my husband pulled out our menorah (which was a Christmas gift he gave me about three or four years ago - no, he's not Jewish in case you're wondering...), lit the candles, and explained the importance of Hanukkah to our kids. He also explained that he was the one who should light the candles because traditionally the head of the household was the one who should do this. (I had to shut down my daughter's lecture at that point or the candles would have been puddles of wax before he finished the story.)

Anyway - the Jenn (and David) kind of Christmas might seem a little odd to others, but our approach makes my heart sing every year. This little angel reminds me that I can create my own home and my own traditions.

I can't wait to see what my kids create in their own homes one day.

Handmade Corncob Doll

2010-12-06T18:20:00.000-06:00

I made this doll when I was a child and was terribly proud of her. I still am, to be honest.

I believe (although I'm not entirely sure) that I made her in second grade as part of our unit on pioneers. We were given scraps of material and I fashioned this dress and cape out of the scraps. (Yes, that is a dress and a cape.) Bizarrely, that's the original scotch tape holding the cape together. If you were to open the cape (please don't), you'd see that the dress is held together by staples. The kerchief is, of course, Elmer-glued to the top of her head.

I remember coming home with her and proudly placing her on our tree. I'm 39 now. That means I've been putting her on my tree every year for about 22 years. Each year, I'm just as proud (almost) as I was when I was in second grade.

I remember MANY details about second grade. Out of curiosity, I googled my second grade elementary school (I only attended it that one year) and instantly knew I'd remembered the name correctly from the double sidewalk leading into the building. One morning, when my parents were dropping me off and I was just about to step onto that sidewalk, my dad taught me his trick for remembering how to spell friend. "It ends in 'end'." And another day, during the carpool home, one of my more mature carpool-mates blurted out the truth about Santa. I cried. My mom was mad.

Second grade was rough. I really didn't like that year very much. But... this doll brings a smile to my face every Christmas. I'm glad to have something tangible from my seventh year of life that makes me feel successful.

And really, the whole point of a Christmas tree (in my opinion) is to relive memories from your life. Christmas ornaments are time machines that zoom you back to your childhood, or your wedding, or the first year you left home for college.

This explains why I don't believe in having fashionable, coordinated Christmas trees. You see expensive crystal ornaments right next to a Baby Jesus made out of a toilet roll holder, with yarn for his hair. It's a great look for a tree and, because I'm Jenn, I love putting my history up on the branches for the world to see.

Christmas Tree Ornament Countdown

2010-12-05T14:21:00.000-06:00

These two houses don't look like much in this snapshot. They look like even less in real life, trust me. These somewhat flimsy houses are cardboard and you might notice that the eave of the red house looks chewed upon.

And yet, they are two of the most important ornaments I own. Technically, I suppose they aren't "Christmas tree ornaments" because there's no tree-hangin' loop attached to them. As I remember it, they (and possibly some other houses) sat under our Christmas tree when I was a wee girl. I distinctly remember lying under the tree (I used to love it under the tree as a toddler, looking up into the branches) and disappearing into these houses in my imagination.

I think Momma had more than just these two cardboard houses, but these are the ones that ended up in my home. I don't have a clue where they originated - or where she bought them, but if they weren't under my tree, I wouldn't think it was really December.

I decided to write about my favorite ten Christmas tree ornaments - in part because I've been lax when it comes to including photography in my blog. The truth is that this top ten list won't really be in any particular order. I love Christmas and Christmas ornaments so picking a "favorite ten" feels a bit disloyal - really, you'll be reading about the ten which inspire the strongest memories for me - or which feel important to me.

These houses bring back memories of me as a tiny thing, lying under the Christmas tree, feeling as if I was in a magical village. Whenever I pull these out of the storage box, I remember how safe I felt whenever I was under our tree.

Rockin' at Work

2010-12-03T12:41:00.000-06:00

I had one of those really, really productive weeks at work. I LOVE it when that happens. Wednesday afternoon I had a meeting with my boss and filled up an entire page with things I needed to do, preferably before Monday morning. Since I work part-time Monday through Thursday, I felt a wee bit anxious about my ability to get it all done.

The truth is, my boss is fabulous and would have no problem if I needed to postpone something. But...I guess I was up for the challenge and decided to jump in and work like a crazy woman on Thursday. Lo and behold, I managed to tackle just about everything that needed to be tackled. I think I'm down to just one webpage that needs updates but I pretty much have the information ready - I just need final confirmation from someone else on an issue.

I've only been back at what I consider my "home" for about four months but I've learned a tremendous amount about what I need professionally. Or, truth be told, I suppose I've accepted the truth of what I need.

I need to believe that I matter to others and that they care about me. (No need to point out that I shouldn't need that. It may or may not be true, but it's who I am and there's not a darn thing I can do about it. I spend most of my waking hours at work and I'm all about connecting to other people. If I spend that time in isolation, it's quite miserable for me.)
I need an opportunity to be creative and offer up my ideas. (I'm looking for every opportunity to write, for example, but I'm even excited when I find just the right clip-art for my presentations. I've also had fun being the "process queen" about things that have been done that way forever and am excited when others are willing to consider my new way of looking at things. That doesn't always work, but boy I love it when it does!)
I need consistency. I know - who doesn't, right? But when someone in authority gives conflicting messages or I never know when I might be attacked, I shut down completely. I can't ignore it and I really have a hard time living with it.
I love having a short commute. Maybe I could live without it, but it sure feels like a need to me now that I have it again!

Happiness is being pumped up while you check stuff off your to-do list.

Happiness is picking your kid up after school (I may never be able to do that again after this year, so I'm enjoying it while I can!).

Happiness is realizing you just accomplished something that (perhaps...) no one else could have accomplished.

So...I'm happy. Am I still discontent? Well, sure - I guess. But I'm discontent in a happy way because I believe I'm moving towards great things.

And, yes - I realize I'm probably the only human on Earth who would say that she's "discontent in a happy way. " Deal with it. It's part of my charm.

Speaking of Quirks in My Personality...

2010-11-28T18:34:00.000-06:00

...and I'm only writing this because I know all three of you who read this on a regular basis....

I just have to share (as I did with one of you at dinner tonight) that I recently started exploring the concept of chakras (note: this link is just the pure definition - which doesn't give you much to go on, but...oh, well...). I'm trying to figure out which of mine might be particularly blocked. Or spinning in the wrong direction. Or whatever it is that chakras do when they're not really in sync with you.

I know. Completely new-agey, right?

You would have been amused last night to see me half asleep with a brown stone clutched in my hand, my husband asking gently probing questions to try to figure out what was up:

David: What do you have in your hand?

[a pregnant pause...]

Me: A stone.

David: Why do you have it?

[another pregnant pause, followed by an evasive non-answer which I can't remember at the moment]

David: Ok. I hope it does what you need it to do.

Me: [falls asleep, appreciates the fact that he didn't laugh at me]

Tonight, before I wrote this blog, I was searching Google for information on the particular chakra at issue, when I noticed that he was reading the computer over my shoulder. He didn't say much of anything, and I didn't change websites.

I'm actually thinking that this is a sign of health in our marriage...that he can tolerate my amateurishly-mystic spiritual explorations. Really, you've got to be impressed - right? How many guys would put up with stones in the bed?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to dance counterclockwise around a bonfire. Ok. That was a joke. I'm actually WAY too tired to do that tonight.

Sugar

2010-11-27T20:26:00.000-06:00

I've given up sugar. Again.

For years (I'm quite serious...years and years...) I'd refrained from eating sugar. About six months ago I decided to allow myself a little sugar every now and then. (What's the harm, right?) It started with a piece of dark chocolate in the evening. That was the beginning of the end. The "slippery slope" argument doesn't hold much water when it comes to constitutional law, but it's certainly true when it comes to me and sugar.

I simply cannot touch the stuff.

Well, technically I suppose I can touch it because I cook with it. Rather excessively this time of year, to tell you the truth. Let's just say that my tongue can't touch the stuff.

It's pretty tough to be in this initial abstinence phase, but I'm reminding myself that it was a LOT tougher the first time around. I get a little bummed when I refrain from pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving or a bite-sized Snickers on Black Friday, but years ago - when I first did this - I practically had to handcuff myself to my desk to prevent myself from buying peanut M&M's at 3:00 p.m.

Oh....those peanut M&M's....

I guess I need to find some great fruit recipes - if you've never given up sugar cold turkey, you've got no idea how fabulous fruit tastes. And if you're thinking you can't do it, I'm here to tell you that it's definately do-able. I'm more passionate about chocolate than I am about anything or anyone on Earth...and I did it. Even with my addictive personality.

Of course, if you're one of those freaks who can eat one cookie a week and feel all satisfied from it then never mind. And...you totally suck.

My Approach to Pies

2010-11-25T10:03:00.000-06:00

I love to bake. Even when I'm in one of my cold turkey "absolutely no sugar at all going into my body" periods (as I am now) - I'm the dessert queen. I particularly love to bake pies - as anyone whose spent a holiday with me will attest. My pies are moderately well-known in our family circle, but here's the strange thing about my approach:

Every year I use slighly different recipes.

You'd think I'd take a consistent approach to baking...you know, if a recipe is really good then it might make sense to keep it and re-use it the next year. But no - that approach doesn't appeal to me for some strange reason.

Part of the reason for my "new recipe every year" attitude is pure disorganization. (Keeping up with a particular piece of paper for 365 days would take an enormous amount of effort on my part.) Part of the reason is that I enjoy experimentation (thereby subjecting my family to experimentation). And...well, probably part of the reason is that I forget exactly what I did a year before so I just start all over.

Each year, around this time, I search the web for chocolate whiskey pecan pie recipes. I always use a slightly different recipe. The downside of this approach is that I'm always very nervous before folks eat my pies. Today is no exception - especially because this year I was a crazy woman and made homemade pie crust. Yikes.

I'm pondering whether I should create a Thanksgiving/Christmas recipe folder on my computer so that I could keep up with recipes. I could even include notes about the best recipes. I can't explain it but for some reason that does NOT sound like fun to me. Maybe I enjoy experiencing the unexpected every year.

Or...since I'm not eating sugar...watching my loved ones experience the unexpected.

Jenn and Julie...and Julia

2010-11-20T21:51:00.001-06:00

As I write this, I'm in the process of watching Julie and Julia and again. Again. Which wouldn't really be significant except for the fact that I don't necessarily re-watch movies (or re-read books) unless they are EXTREMELY significant to me.

I knew that there was something to Julie and Julia because I've been obsessing over the movie ever since I watched it last week. Constantly. I've wanted to re-watch it every day.

So...here's the question for me and my (quite silent) six readers. Why is that? Why am I so drawn to this story? Have you seen the movie? If not, you really should because I promise you that this post will mean absolutely nothing to you unless you have. For the sake of this post, which is really just for my own therapeutic purposes anyway, I'm going to assume that you've watched Julie and Julia at least once and, in the process, you managed to memorize a surprising number of lines and details. If you didn't - you don't need to tell me. Really. I'll be fine without that knowledge.

The OBVIOUS connection to me is, of course, the blog angst. I know...that's what you think the connection is. Julie has my angst about the fact that no one is reading her blog. The difference (again...OBVIOUSLY...) is that in her case people began to read her blog and in my case...well, maybe not so much. But I think you're wrong. That's NOT why I'm so taken by the movie.

I don't think that's what speaks to me at all. Blogs are blogs. And 2010 is a TOTALLY different reality than 2002. I know that M, M, J and R (and sometimes even my husband) read my blog. That's enough. It's cheaper than therapy and I've yet to find a therapist who truly understands me anyway. You guys do. Writing is good for me.

I think the real connection I have to J & J is Julie's early statement to her husband that she just wants something in her life she can finish from beginning to end and that it's her ADHD that prevents her from being a good housekeeper. And... you know, for some of us it is quite, quite difficult to find a project that we will complete. Was it only me who saw the absolute truth in that statement?

Maybe so.

Or maybe the connection is just that I think food is fabulous. And I've had such an off-and-on relationship with it. Like it's some mysterious lover that dips in and out of my life at the most unexpected moments.

Or....It could be that I've been obsessed with Paris and the imagined life of An American in Paris since I was 14 years old.

Then again...

It could be the absolute truth of a husband who supports his wife and her dreams, regardless of how nonsensical or unorganized they are. The idea that someone would say - "Ok. So we live in an itty bitty, teeny tiny place and have no money...we get home from work late every night...but if you want to cook every single complex Fench recipe in Julia Child's cookbook and yell at me in between boeuf bourguinon and chocolate mousse as you crater emotionally...then, well, I guess I'll keep loving you through that adventure."

And, yes...I've heard that maybe they didn't make it...but we're talking about the movie here. NOT reality. So cut me some slack - ok?

I'm thinking there's a lot of truth in the idea that it takes a certain type of guy to put up with my tendency to obsess over odd issues. At least Julie's husband got to eat well. Mine is lucky to get HEB pre-cooked brisket that is baked in the oven instead of micro-waved.

And yet, we all have our gifts. Thank goodness for loved ones who patiently wait for mine to emerge.

Contentment

2010-11-18T18:10:00.000-06:00

Have you ever felt as if contentment was one of those outfits you see in a store window and you just have to have it....so you fork over the credit card and you're so excited as the fashionable salesboy wraps it in tissue paper and puts it into a swanky shopping bag with fabulous handles made of ribbon?

You haven't? Maybe it's just me.

Anyway - once I get it (contentment) home, I hang it in my closet for a few days before wearing it. The problem is that it doesn't fit me as well as I thought it would. As a matter of fact, I realize it's terribly uncomfortable. Ironically, contenment makes me very discontent.

I used to buy into the notion that my discontent was depression or sadness - I no longer think that's the case. I think I'm actually reasonably happy most of the time but I'm not content. I can't (or don't want to) sit still and soak things in. I need to analyze and question and push. As soon as I think I've found where I need to be - as soon as I think I've found my comfort zone - everything starts to itch. The outfit doesn't fit anymore.

Writing about this makes me feel a little more at peace - when I started writing this post it was titled "Happiness" and I thought I was going to be all angsty about how I struggle with happiness. After reading the first paragraph, I realized that wasn't right - I'm just not content. Maybe I never will be.

Maybe that's ok.

Action for Action's Sake

2010-11-05T22:22:00.000-05:00

On Wednesday, I checked a translation of the Bhagavad Gita out of my church library, thinking that it might serve as a useful focus for morning meditations.

That assumes, of course, that I arise and meditate on a regular basis. Which I don't. Not by a long shot. But that's a topic for another post.

Anyway - back to the BG...there's a concept in one of the very early chapters that I'm playing with in my mind. I believe it's true from a spiritual perspective but I keep thinking of all the times I struggle with this truth as compared to the very few times in my life when I seem to get it.

Here's the verse:

You have a right to your actions,
but never to your actions' fruits.
Act for the action's sake.
And do not be attached to inaction.

Leaving aside the fact that I wish there was a comma after the word "sake" and the first word of the last line was lower case like the first word in the second line, I really love this verse. As a mom, I've recently felt a shift in how I want to relate to my kids. I attribute a lot of this shift to an article I read, which inspired me to (begin to) let go of the idea that I can mold my kids to become a particular type of person. I started to really look at my kids, realized how awesome they are, and decided to just try to enjoy my time with them and support them as much as I could in the process.

So...I suppose the motherhood thing was one reason this verse spoke to me, but that's not the only reason. It's a pretty radical notion when you think about it. Pretty much every career expert out there tells us that we need to network and "build our brand" so that we can grab control of our future and of course we need to eat healthy and exercise so that we can all look like _____ [insert your concept of most beautiful man or woman here]. Cause and effect is something that we're brought up to respect - and, in my humble opinion, it matters. I want my kids to know that their actions have consequences. Otherwise they could grow up to become insensitive dolts who think the world revolves around them. Oops. There I go - trying to mold them again.

Sigh.

My point, and I do have one, is that it's rather interesting to play with the idea of not allowing yourself to be attached to the results of your action. In other words: you raise and nourish and love your children because those actions are what you value. You might hope that they grow up healthy and strong, and provide you with precious grandchildren in your old age - but you shouldn't be attached to that hope. One never knows what will happen.

I think I kind of get it when it comes to my writing: I'd like it if a lot of people read my blog and my words were inspiring to others - but the truth is that the act of writing and re-writing my buzzing thoughts gives me immense satisfaction. Few things make me this happy.

Here's where I really struggle with the presumed truth of the verse - dog training. The whole reason we try to teach our dogs to sit or heel or stop barking like an idiot everytime someone rides by on a bicycle is so that we can change their future actions. I guess the anonymous author of the BG might argue that we're supposed to just enjoy that time with our dog for what it is and let go of any future expectations...but I'm just not seeing it.

In other words, I'm beginning to have a somewhat yoga attitude about my kids, my writing, and even my career - but not when it comes to my dog.

Jenn Joins a Horde

2010-10-31T21:04:00.001-05:00

I just returned from Washington D.C., where I joined tons of people at the Rally to Restore Sanity. Truthfully "tons of people" doesn't even come close to the description. It was throngs of people. Legions of people. The mall was abundant with humanity.

We got there about an hour early and the crowd was already way back at 7th street and the sculpture garden, which was (as I understand it) the outer limits of what had been reserved for the Rally.

Hah!

People continued to pile in behind us and the very-cool-young-men-in-a-tree behind us informed me that they couldn't even see the end of the crowd. Once I took a look at some of the aerial photos of the event, it was obvious that the crowd spilled out from the mall into the streets on the side and way back to the end of the National Mall.

I think I'm in this picture, but if I am - it's near the front of this crowd (the part furthest away from the reflecting pool) - which is still very far away from the actual stage. This is just the back half of the crowd.

At any rate - I was surprisingly pleased to be part of a horde for the first time in my life. After the rally, we all left slowly, tightly, with me holding on to my husband's back pocket the whole time so he wouldn't lose me in the mass of humanity. Along the way, I kept pointing out posters so he could get pictures of the great ones.

Once clear of the National Mall, all the rally-goers were marching down the surrounding streets, holding our signs and smiling at each other. It somehow felt historical and really, really great - like I was speaking up for something - even if it was something as mundane as just treating each other with decency. You know...using manners, not making assumptions about others, and appreciating the fact that Americans can disagree and not think it's the end of the world as we know it.

So...ok, it wasn't exactly the civil rights or women's rights marches my mom participated in during the 60's (I consider myself blessed that she and others fought those battles for us) but it was a semi-spontaneous march that mattered to me in 2010. I'd say it was a march for my generation, but that wouldn't be fair or even accurate. I was surrounded by people my parents age (and older) as well as people much younger than my 39 years. (The guys in the tree were clearly not only in great shape but most of them were almost certainly in their twenties..except for one really old dude who was rather overweight. I seriously think he might have teleported himself into the tree. But...I digress.)

I loved the trip to D.C. for a bunch of reasons. Saturday was the ultimate experience of going with the flow. I'd asked some friends for restaurant recommendations. That turned out to be quite laughable...as we quickly realized we were walking down Independence Avenue with 215,000 other people. We crowded into the Metro - which was packed like a Tokyo subway - and departed near GWU. We beat most of the rest of the crowd to that part of town by about 15 minutes, which meant we only had to wait 45 minutes for a table at a surprisingly good Italian restaurant. It wasn't on any of the lists I'd collected, but I enjoyed a glass of their house sangiovese, ate roasted garlic with spinach, and enjoyed the fact that I wasn't standing up anymore.

I loved looking at everyone's signs and I thought Jon Stewart's final statement was fabulous. I can't BELIEVE I got to hear Yusef (a.k.a. Cat Stevens) sing live. I was in pure heaven singing "Peace Train" and swaying. (Maybe I was channeling the 60's just a bit...)

I clung to my husband as if it was 1963 (or...really...1973, since I should at least reference a year in which I was alive...) because so many people were using cell phones that the system was pretty much down. My cell phone was about as useful as a paperweight. I couldn't get texts or calls to go through until I hit Foggy Bottom. I was holding onto his back pocket like it was my lifeline because I knew if we got separated, it would be a while before we'd reach each other on the phone.

When all was said and done, we made it back to the hotel where we purchased exorbitantly expensive glasses of Jameson's and worked on this slideshow of all the great signs we'd seen. (Mine is the one that says "Chill!" in case you're wondering.)

I learned a few things this weekend.
1. It's great to spend a few hundred bucks to take an irrational trip every now and then.
2. There's a totally cool couple from Iowa (about my parents' age) who are the only people in their social circle to watch The Daily Show. (You go, cool Boomers!!)
3. There's a really, really bad Tex-Mex knock off restaurant in the Charlotte, N.C. airport that charges WAY too much for watery margaritas and nauseating nachos.
4. I may vote Democratic in many, many elections - but I'm not "a Democrat" - I'm an American. And a mom. I appreciate artistic outlandishness and conservative stability. Oddly - that doesn't strike me as contradictory.
5. My husband is the same stable and reliable guy that he was when he led me around D.C. on our honeymoon in 1993. Thank goodness I'm with someone whom I can trust to consistently point me in the right direction. And...you know...find me a good red wine at the end of the day.

Praying for Dwayne

2010-10-14T14:36:00.000-05:00

There's a guy who hangs out near my Walgreens and whenever I have a dollar I give it to him. For some reason I started thinking about him a lot, worrying about him you might say and I wanted to meet him. I don't know why - I know that in the lingo of the church where I was raised, one would say that "the Spirit was speaking to me" - but I don't use that lingo anymore so I don't really know how to describe how I felt.

I just know I wanted to meet him.

Yesterday I was lucky enough to be stopped at the red light so we had more than a second to visit. I asked him if he needed anything else - he indicated anything was welcome. I clarified that I was wondering if he had the phone numbers to call for places in town that helped people who didn't have a home. He said he didn't, I offered to bring them and he said that would be great.

Last night I pulled together some numbers - it's not as easy as you might think - even with a semi-decent internet connection. I grabbed some quarters and a water bottle, then my son insisted that I include a bag of Chips Ahoy. He wasn't around yesterday evening and I was oddly worried. I saw someone else's sign by the side of the road - abandoned - and I started thinking about all the rough things that could happen to him. And of course - how many others were out last night? It wasn't just my friend in danger.

Today he was back at his corner so I walked over to him. Two other guys were with him so it was kind of crummy that I didn't have a bag for everyone, but I at least introduced myself and got into a mini-discussion about the proper pronunciation of Caritas. (Now I'm really wondering....)

Here's what I learned: my friend's name is Dwayne. I'd always noticed that he had a wolf t-shirt that he hung over his backpack and I told him how much I loved it. He pointed out that the reason he liked it is that the wolf has green eyes with dark fur and he told me to look at his eyes - they were blue. Blue, blue eyes against his dark skin - very cool.

Anyway, we talked for a while about how some people can treat you like you're nothing - I told him it happened to me too but that he just needed to remember he was a blessing. (Because he is.)

The reason I'm telling you this is that "Homelessness" is so big and overwhelming - it seems hopeless. The big huge social issue of homelessness and all the other social issues that are intrinsically tied into it ARE huge and I can't do a darn thing about them by myself.

But now we all know Dwayne's name. If you ever pray or even if you just think about people and hope for the best, then you can think about Dwayne by name. I gave him the numbers for a bunch of places here in town - including Caritas and Front Steps. I gave him cookies and water, and three quarters. It's just a start, but love will take him further.

So maybe tonight, just tonight - if we all pray for Dwayne - he'll see a new direction and a new hope. My son asked me last month why I pray so often. I told him that it's because there are so many things in life over which I have no control. When I pray, I send my love out - sometimes that's all I can do. I guess I'm still Baptist enough (deep down) to believe it makes a difference in the world. I know it makes a difference in my heart.

Top Ten Funny/Crazy/Goofy Things

2010-10-12T08:37:00.000-05:00

Top Ten Funny/Crazy/Goofy Things That Happened in the Last Year:

10. I turned 39.

9. My son beat me in arm wrestling, which means that I now officially have the wimpiest arms in our family.

8. I started cleaning the house...sort of....and realized that I enjoyed it....kind of...sometimes.

7. I sewed myself a skirt. Which is, now that I think about it, a blog topic in and of itself. It's the ultimate proof that mothering soaks into your system, even if it takes decades to reapper. (My mom was always an incredible seamstress - apparently I learned some things after all.)

6. I tried to organize my life by creating daily lists. I'm still finding old lists in odd cubbyholes and nooks in my purse, car and linen closet (don't ask).

5. I found that the lost lists weren't really helping me....so, in my stubborness, I just made more lists. I realized that if I wrote something down enough, I'd eventually do it.

4. Ramona and Beezus became one of my favorite movies of all time. I cried like a baby both times I saw it and appreciated the fact that my family didn't make me walk five steps behind them when we left the theater and I was still making those weird little hiccup noises and wiping my nose on my sleeve.

3. I became the mom of a middle school girl and was initiated into that head spinning feeling you get when your pre-teen looks at you the same way you used to look at your own mom. (You know, like when she would try to talk to you about s-e-x...awkward.....)

2. I went to work half-time and filled all my "free" time with kids' activities as if volunteering for school, scouting, and church was some kind of Olympic event and I'm in the final push before the trials. That would all be fine if it wasn't for the fact that I tend to inadvertently promise that I'll be in two places at one time. I still haven't figured out how to accomplish teleportation so that's been a minor issue - especially since I dumped my Blackberry, which used to keep me on schedule back in the day...

1. Number one is a placeholder for all the things I've forgotten, but will jump back into my mind when I'm driving my daughter to theater rehearsal, reading Harry Potter to my son, or washing my hair with hotel shampoo and wondering when I'm going to get the guts up to buy the $90 shampoo/conditioner set I want from Sephora.

Thanks, M, for pointing out that my posts have been focused on my angst. I'll always have it - it's part of me - but it was a lot of fun to remind myself about the goofiness.

Thirty-Nine

2010-10-01T09:27:00.000-05:00

On Tuesday, I turned 39. Interestingly, I found myself wishing it was my 40th - but that's because I'm secretly convinced that I'll have it all figured out personally, professionally and physically by this time next year.

It's a rather tall order but I'm determined to do it - and here's my plan...

Instead of changing a bunch of stuff about me, I'm going to begin accepting as much as I possibly can. Only if I find something completely unacceptable will I attempt to change it.

For example, instead of thinking that I'm only going to accept a crazy-skinny size for my body, I'm going to ACCEPT the fact that I'm probably meant to be a size 6/8 and I should just be focusing on finding some kind of movement I can enjoy every day.

Easier said than done, but I've got a year. I'm thinking I'll have more energy for the important things in life if I stop expending it on self-critical behavior and ask: "Can I accept this about myself? Or do I really want to change it?"

Most of the acceptance needs to come in the personal area of my life. My personality isn't going to change. I'm always going to be very sensitive, very emotional, and I'm also going to need a WHOLE lot of love and tenderness. There you go. Not a whole lot I can do about it so I might as well stop wishing that I could be a tough-as-nails woman who needs nothin' from no-one because it ain't gonna happen.

Funny. I'm smiling as I write this - this radical "self-acceptance" concept is incredibly liberating. I think it's going to be a good thing.

Letting Go

2010-09-23T22:13:00.000-05:00

It's been SUCH a long time since I've posted. I know. I'd claim that I was trying to be coy and unattainable...but that would imply that I actually had readers.

Hee, hee.

It's ok. I'm self-absorbed enough to re-read my postings three times before hitting the "Publish Post" button...so I figure that counts as at least two additional followers.

I'm sure you're on the edge of your seat, wondering what profoundly intense and dynamic event inspired me to post. (Other than the obvious combination of 63% dark chocolate and Tullamore Irish Whiskey...) Get this - it was a presentation by the CFO of my school district.

Wild, right?

She was actually pretty darn good and for some reason, I was - for the first time - VERY drawn into the whole school finance issue. I'm still trying to figure out if it was a generational connection or if I finally passed some intellectual marker which allowed me to make conceptual leaps which previously alluded my emotion-addled brain.

Regardless...

Her point (which is obvious but is one most of us spend our lives trying to avoid) is that everything in life requires choices. These choices are never easy if what you seek is worth anything at all.

To put it in terms a second grade boy might understand: If you REALLY want to have enough money to buy the $100 Millennium Falcon Lego set, then you will have to pass on a lot of $20 semi-o.k. Lego sets.

To put it in terms of a sixth grade girl: If you REALLY want to be popular, you'll have to treat some people like crap and pretend to be someone you're not.

And...to put it in terms their mom might understand: If you REALLY want to follow your heart, then you might actually have to listen to it instead of drowning it out with the buzz of your busy life.

Of course, she didn't use those examples. She focused on practical examples relating to facilities, extra-curricular programs, and social security. And yet, in spite of the numerical emphasis of the presentation - the message resonated with me. I can't do it all and I can't give it all.

It all begs the question: what will I give to others and what will I release from my expectations?

Try this question on for size - what will I give up? What will I NOT give up?

Once you hear your own honest answer, your future begins to take focus - and I'll bet money on the prediction that you'll also hug your family just a little bit tighter.

Let the rain come down....make a brand new ground

2010-09-07T12:40:00.001-05:00

Tropical Storm Hermine is drenching us today and the rain matched my morning mood. To be fair, I don't think the mood will be leaving me anytime soon because it hasn't had it's way with me yet. Do you ever have those days when you realize something about yourself and it's not enlightening, it's just exhausting?

Because after the big realization, you've got to deal with the truth about yourself.

Especially on a rainy day, it can just make a girl so tired. I'm at the end of my lunch break right now, listening to Sara B's new album - specifically the song "Let The Rain." The first few lines sort of sum it up for me (so thank goodness I could finally buy it today)...

I wish I were pretty, I wish I were brave. If I owned this city, then I'd make it behave. And if I were fearless then I'd speak my truth and the world would hear this. That's what I wish I'd do.

The truth. Sometimes it's just too much.

Best Day

2010-08-22T14:55:00.000-05:00

The mountains were wonderful (it's moderately difficult to be back in the Texas heat, but great to be home) and one day up in Crested Butte - I found myself thinking that it was, quite possibly, one of the best days of my life. Sitting here at home, with the smell of freshly baked Reeses Pieces cookies in the background, waiting for my son to return from a laser tag birthday party, I'm not sure if all of my best vacation memories are from just one day (I doubt they are) but they blur together happily and I realize they all have one thing in common - the four of us were together, laughing or enjoying a new experience.

We took a trail ride- just the four of us, through the Gunnison national forest. I've honestly never seen anything so beautiful in my life and as I rode through the aspen, I felt closer to God than I had in a long time. I admitted that to my daughter later. She raised her eyebrows at me, agreed that it sounded kind of corny, but then told me she knew exactly how I felt.

We wondered around a farmer's market on a beautiful sunny day. The kids and I got henna tattoos as I wore a daisy in my hair. Later that day, I listed to John Denver as I drank in the mountain air. (Nothing takes me back to the happy days of my childhood like John Denver. I must admit, however, that I still sometimes picture him with the Muppets when I hear him sing. He was my favorite guest star.)

We took our horse guide's advice, and ate pizza at The Secret Stash. The food was fabulous (pizza with figs, prosciutto and truffle oil) but the ambiance was even better. We sat on cushions in an attic decorated like something out of Tibet, complete with tapestries of Ganesh and Shiva (I think those were the devas and devis I recognized...but I'm no expert) and listed to the best ever hippie music playing over the speakers. We had so much fun - it was truly one of those hours I want to remember forever.

The four corners of our family connected at each of these moments. We have seven more years under the same roof and I want more hilarity, more beauty, more connection. More "best days."

Mountain Mist

2010-08-17T12:36:00.001-05:00

When the mist rolls in, it covers your mountain so completely that you can hardly believe it still exists. It feels as if this beautiful, verdant, enormous entity has been wiped from the face of the Earth.

The stability of the mountain, which seemed so certain when it was obvious from your window, is suddenly in question. Everything disappears into a gloomy greyish soup.

Wiser souls assure you that the sun will return and burn off the mist. You watch and wait, then try to distract yourself with other activities so that you don't have to look at the grey.

Eventually, the sky is blue and the last pieces of fog are releasing their hold on the mountain.

You're filled with gratitude for those who went before you and assured you that mist evaporates. The mountain brings you even more joy than it did before -- because you know it never left your side. You love the sun, which cleared the mist and allowed you to see the truth. And yet, you accept the mist. You know it will return and hide your mountain.

But - when it happens again, you'll be the wise soul. You'll know that your truth is the mountain, not the mist.

Happiness

2010-08-11T16:50:00.000-05:00

I've received some good advice this week from a few friends and strangers. It's the kind of advice that I already knew in my head but my heart wasn't really there yet. The truth of the advice is beginning to penetrate my heart and it took everybody's advice to get me here.

The week began at church. It was Youth Sunday, which I remember with great fondness from my own teenage years (oh-so-many years ago). Two brilliant young women gave homilies to the congregation. (I gave the sermon one year when I was a teenager, which was quite the radical activity in my Southern Baptist Church.) One of them spoke about how happiness isn't supposed to be a destination, rather it's a choice we can make about how to live our lives. I suppose you could say the same thing about anything - peace, joy, contentment, even LOVE....

I really am an upbeat and happy person for the most part, although my husband doesn't always believe it about me because I also have a tendency to think about EVERYTHING and I might sometimes be just a wee bit hard on myself. I have to point out to him that just because I have a multitude of emotions, perhaps even many within a single afternoon, that doesn't negate my overall happiness. I'm certainly not gloomy. As a matter of fact, the adjective "perky" is used to describe me (to my FACE) much more than I would like, as an almost-39-year-old woman who is attempting to develop a poised, professional reputation.

And yet...

I will admit that I have a tendency to focus on the shadow instead of the sunshine. If I could burn calories with angst, I'd be slim as a rail.

I intend to remind myself each day to stop thinking about my destination and instead focus on each day's journey. As one of my friends pointed out this week, none of us really know where we'll be in a year. It's not a stretch for me to be happy about where I am right now - because I truly believe I'm in exactly the right place. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm clearly on a path.

Just remind me, when you see me, that if I'm living for tomorrow then I'm not living at all. (Another great quote from Sunday.) I might glare at you if I'm in one of my moods, but deep down I'll know you're right.

R2D2 and Me

2010-08-06T20:39:00.000-05:00

Today I was at Target, hunting for a Star Wars backpack for my son. I'd already struck out at Walgreens and HEB so my fingers were crossed that Target wasn't going to let me down. Well, the gods of back-to-school were looking upon me with favor because I found a great one - complete with multiple laser blasts AND my son liked it. A lot.

Whew. Score one for mom.

Actually - score TWO for mom...check out this folder that is IDENTICAL to one I had in first grade. I got so excited about it that I spent a good five minutes hunting for the Princess Leia folder - it was my favorite... the one where she's holding her blaster and looking around the corner with that oh-so-1976 Bonnie Bell lipgloss. I adored that folder. It was my pride and joy when I was sitting in Mrs. Mall's first grade class. Too bad I couldn't find it today at Target.

I told my son he could have the folder as soon as I'd taken the picture for my blog. If I'd found the Princess Leia one, I don't think he would have fought me over it.

Another Dirty Window

2010-07-30T17:05:00.000-05:00

I did something new today - I cleaned some windows inside and out. For the most part, it was a reasonably satisfying experience (other than the fact that I murdered some mother spiders and their young, causing me MAJOR Charlotte's Web angst...but that's a topic for another post). The cleaned windows look lovely - which one would expect since (as mentioned above) I've never done them before.

But...and here's the rub... the undone windows suddenly look crummy. They stick out like sore thumbs against the shiny, sparkly windows. So was it worth it for me to do all that work if the improvements made the faults all the more obvious?

That's a question for the ages, ain't it?

It applies to more in my life than just windows, by the way. I've been doing a lot better as a mom and wife lately but the new, more positive attitude simply emphasizes (in my mind) the prior years when my attitude just plain sucked. Ditto for my new running regimen. I'm building myself up (slowly but surely) for my first 5K in September. Although my "running" is really a rather ungraceful jog, it's a lot more than I've ever accomplished before and I'm starting to believe it's entirely possible that I'll pull off a 5K without walking. I'm already eyeing a 10K and half marathon a year from now. For anyone who is reasonably familiar with me - you know that's just crazy talk.

I suppose that's why a lot of us avoid self-improvement of any kind. We sometimes fear really going after our goals, because if we're able to do it (whatever "it" is) without too much strain, we've proven we could have been doing it all along.

And don't we hate it when our convenient excuses fly out the window like birds from a....well...I've got nothin'. I was hunting for an artistic and apropos metaphor but it wasn't meant to be.

Even without the perfect metaphor, I've decided that it was TOTALLY worth it for me to tackle some, but not all, of my windows. If I don't start somewhere, I'll never get anywhere. And...truth be told...I'm rather proud of my small but significant steps. Granted, I was compelled to get credit for the darn windows. (Not only did I blog about it and post it as my Facebook status, but I made a point to tell my husband I washed them. News flash: I'm overly needy.)

It's probably the same analysis when it comes to me as a wife and mom. Do I wish I'd had my act together before now? Yes. But my past history of wandering aimlessly in circles doesn't negate the fact that I'm on the right path now.

Ah. There's my metaphor. I knew I'd find it.

Sweet Hugs to Remember

2010-07-29T21:39:00.000-05:00

Tonight my daughter had a kickball game and my husband captured this sweet picture when my son came up behind me to give me a hug. Whenever he's 16 years old, someone needs to remind me to come back and look at this picture.

Understanding Family Dynamics Through Pottery

2010-07-20T20:19:00.000-05:00

One Saturday in May, all four of us went to a local pottery studio for a family class. It dawned on me yesterday evening that each of our creations says a lot about the family member whose hands shaped the piece.

My seven-year-old son crafted this toad house. You don't get the full effect of the details from this snapshot. The back is covered in extra layers and various appendages which are, I strongly suspect, machine gun turrets. Because, of course, one never knows when a toad might be attacked in his or her own home.

This is my daughter's toad house. I think the big open doorway and skylight reflect her open personality (ok, ok - maybe I'm projecting) and it's hard to tell but there are these cute little traditional four-pane windows on the side. She also wrote "occupied" on the door frame.

I could go on and on with the psychoanalysis of my husband's bowl, but I'll try to control myself. He spent a lot of time cutting perfect strips of clay - all of them exactly the same width. I love the way it's perfectly straight on the outside but the inside seems to flow like water. Note that the stronger statement is on the outside and the softer statement is on the inside of the piece...hmmm....shall we take a look at mine now?

You're going to have to take my word on this (because it's not obvious from the picture) but my pottery is sort of inside out. The studio had these nifty stamps and I was drawn to one resembling a Native American sunburst design. I originally planned to stamp all around the outside of my planter but I couldn't get enough pressure. My stamp marks looked weak and unimpressive on the outside. So....I started stamping on the inside. That worked a lot better because I was able to get more pressure that way. The stronger statement of my piece is, therefore, on the INSIDE - the outside needs more strength and definition. (I won't even discuss the notable distinction that my creation is all white. That's one for the philosophers. Or not.)

Perhaps I'm over-thinking our pottery just a wee bit...but then again, maybe not.

Will The Real Jenn Please Stand Up?

2010-07-15T21:57:00.000-05:00

Something pretty cool happened about 24 hours ago, right after I finally got to see Sex and the City 2 (although I can't imagine it had anything to do with the film - I really think it was the talk I had with my friend on the way back home). I've got some really great opportunities in front of me right now and am surrounded by a great cheering squad, but I'd been plagued with my very typical self-doubt for days.

I've got the kind of support most people crave and if I allow myself, I could really blossom. The only problem, and it's been a big one, is my own psyche. I've got the old tapes playing about how I'm not really smart enough or good enough...and if anyone knew the truth about me, they wouldn't like me anymore. Yet...at some point late yesterday evening, I realized that the voice I've been hearing in my head isn't really me. I'm not sure why it happened, but I felt the "real" Jennifer come out of the shadows and she was strong and determined and even (dare I say it??) ambitious. I literally felt as if she was looking at me with raised eyebrows, waiting to see if I was going to take a chance on a new and better life.

The old, familiar personality (too sweet for her own good, self-deprecating, not wanting to look better than anyone else) tried to push Real Jennifer back down - but for once I made a conscious decision to keep the stronger one out in the open. I figured, what the heck? I'll live with her for a while and see how it goes.

Here's an interesting fact...it takes A LOT of effort to keep Real Jennifer around because habits are comfortable and comforting - but it's worth it. I worked so hard at letting her take the lead today that I felt as if I'd run a marathon by the end of the day. I could barely stay awake and crashed on the couch for an hour once I got home from work. And yet, I can already tell that it's a new habit I want to keep. When she's out, I focus on what I'm thinking and what I want instead of what other people (presumably) want. That is just crazy talk (according to my traditional modus operandi) but it feels wonderful and I want to stick with it.

So I guess I've seen the person, the Real Jennifer, who can do some great things. That's the person I want to get to know over the next year.

Lemme Hold Your Crown, Babe

2010-07-13T15:58:00.000-05:00

My favorite singer...and I do mean my FAVORITE singer...is Sara Bareilles. Don't get me wrong, I love all kinds of music and like all kinds of singers but I don't have the entire repertoire of anyone else completely memorized, backwards and forwards. Objectively speaking, I think that qualifies as "favorite."

I suppose what's cool about singers who "click" is that you feel like they're reading your mind, then you find out about all these other people who feel exactly the same way. Seems to me it's proof that the human experience is pretty universal. In other words, I'm not as big of a freak as I originally thought.

Maybe it's the fact that so many of her songs have the perfect combination of anger and angst, and she directs them at someone. So...all you have to do is picture your personal nemesis and sing "Who died and made you king of anything?"

Plus, she throws in just enough cuss words to make me LOVE it. They're like seasoning, in my opinion....too many of them can ruin the dish but you've got to have a few in life or...really...what's the *^%*-ing point?

I still think she's got some secret hidden camera pointed at me so I'll go hunt for it. In the meantime, click below to enjoy her latest video...King of Anything. No cussing in this one, but you've gotta love the funky fashion evolution which illustrates (I can only assume) a transition from weak pushover to strong, happy, dancing woman.

Top 5 Odd Things I've Learned About Myself

2010-07-09T08:29:00.000-05:00

The last few weeks have been the beginning of a new type of life. I'm not exactly sure where this life will take me, but I'm enjoying the ride and discovering new things about Jenn. In the spirit of Letterman's Top 10 lists, I created my own list of odd things I've learned about myself recently. It's just a "Top 5" list because, to be honest, the other five odd things weren't things I wanted to share in a public blog.

5. I'm literally incapable of working in the kitchen unless I'm wearing an apron and I've pulled my hair back into a ponytail. It occurred to me yesterday that this means there's a whole "cafeteria lady" aspect to my personality which I have yet to explore. Not sure I want to explore it.

4. I'm beginning to fantasize about ways that I can drop funny Liz Lemon sayings into conversations and am trying to figure out who at work might be a 30 Rock fan so I can impress them with my Tina Fey impressions.

3. Cleaning the bathrooms really isn't too bad. I don't mind it. Trying to create a system to organize our ENORMOUS collection of children's books, on the other hand, positively gives me hives. (Shudder...)

2. It's more difficult to find time to get to an exercise class than I would have expected, even when I'm working part-time. Turns out the best way to exercise, no matter when you work, is to get your butt out of bed early in the morning and take care of it.

1. I look a lot better when I'm happy, extra 10 pounds notwithstanding. Apparently a "happy aura" is a good fashion accessory.

So there you go. Nothing beats self-discovery, even if the process reveals that a girl's got even more odd quirks than she originally suspected.

Today I Slept

2010-07-01T17:38:00.000-05:00

During my drive home from work today (which is now, blessedly, three minutes long - five if I hit a light or two), I pondered what my exercise regimen would be today. I exercised 19 days during June and, although I'm rather proud of myself about that, I'd like to do even better in July. Once I got home, I decided that tonight I'd be best served with an old school workout on the treadmill so I suited up and hit the "exercise room." (A loose term...it could just as easily be called the "junk-waiting-for-the-garage-sale-that-will-never-come room.")

My plans were all for naught, however, because the treadmill was covered in some of that JWFTGSTWNC. We had overnight guests, which necessitated the temporary rearranging of the room. In the back of my mind, my "you should" voice pointed out that there were a couple of loads of laundry to be folded, but I decided to lie on the couch and read my book. Pretty quickly I found myself getting sleepy. That voice started to tell me that I "shouldn't" be sleepy but my body insisted that sleep was the order of the day.

It was that funny half-sleep you end up in when your son is playing XBox360 in the same room and your daughter is wondering around until she decides sleep sounds lovely and crashes in the oversized armchair. I barely squinted at my husband with one eye when he came home and muttered to him that it would be great if he'd wake me up in time to meet my friends for dinner. Then I continued with my half-dozing while he and my son played their first game of Risk (the old-fashioned board game, not an electronic version).

I'm about to leave for my girlfriends' dinner. Not only do I feel quite rested, but I also feel as if I accomplished something significant by ignoring my "should" voice for just an hour or two.

I can't ignore it forever, though. I really should get that laundry folded.

Jenn's First Handwritten Post

2010-06-29T18:59:00.000-05:00

This is, in a way, my first handwritten blog posting. Of course, it's not handwritten for you - but it was handwritten before it was typed. I've taken to carrying around a small notebook in my purse (two, actually - a practical one and an "artistic" one). It's been necessary for me to resort to such measures because I no longer have a phone with data access. There is, therefore, no checking my Yahoo or Facebook during my down time (which consists of 10 minutes at the doctor's office, if I'm LUCKY) and no checking work email (which was the original, intended result of no data access on my cell phone).

That actually makes me rather a freak-a-zoid in my current social circles. I'm actually ok with that fact, but sometimes (ok, almost ALWAYS) my ADHD kicks in and I get a little freaked out if I'm just sitting there with nothing to click or surf. I'm only halfway through the "India" part of Eat, Pray, Love - so you can hardly blame me that I'm only occasionally able to access my Perfect Inner Self who is at peace with the world.

At any rate - I decided that a small notebook could serve as a substitute Bberry, in a way. It's really a bit quaint and I like to imagine that I look rather Bronte-ish (don't know how to put the umlaut over an e in Blogger - sorry) when I pull out the ol' miniature notebook in public.

Oh - did I mention that none of the above constitutes my first handwritten blog posting? That was just the introduction - here's the real post (written as I sat idle - dead car - at an Exxon station not too far from my house after filling up the tank):

It WOULD happen that my car would start dying on me PRECISELY at the moment that I leave my $_____ a year job [you didn't think I'd really type exactly what I wrote in my Bronte journal, did you???] for a $____ a year job. Because, really, why die on me at a time when I have extra money? I have to admit, however, that it's great to have my husband right around the corner and able to rescue me. Whew. Knights on white horses ROCK.

Just checked the car again (because it's getting seriously muggy in here). Nope. Still quite dead.

Perhaps I should use this as inspiration to learn more about the workings of my car? Hmmm. Perhaps not. I'd rather just go with my current theory - BAD VIBES.

I have rather a lot of evidence to back up my theory that my vibes suck. You see - yesterday was my first day back at my new/old (nold??) job and my computer disliked me so much that they had to take it away from me and re-install Windows.

Now my car keeps dying. (This is the second time in as many days.)

If that's not an indication of bad technology karma, I don't know what is.

Accomplishments

2010-06-26T20:25:00.000-05:00

Life is full of potential accomplishments. One person's accomplishments might be drudgery, or even failure, for another person. Even more notable, from my perspective, is that a personal accomplishment at one point in my life might not be the accomplishment I want at another point in my life.

Case in point: two years ago, the accomplishment I wanted and needed was to challenge myself with a new job. I tackled that and succeeded in proving that I can handle tough situations. I also proved to myself that gaining power in the business world and making six figures wasn't really going to cut it for me. I began to crave some accomplishments which used to seem like chores.

Today, I feel as if I've accomplished more than I have in a long time. I planned a museum morning for our family at the Bob Bullock Museum (where we watched a 3D movie about Arabia) and the Blanton Museum of Art (because Groupon just had a great deal on family memberships). At the Blanton, I was so happy to just sit back and quietly watch my kids take in art. My son spent a long time looking at every detail of some of the frontier/cowboy paintings and my daughter couldn't wait to get to the modern art gallery. It was a great morning because I refrained from rushing or insisting that we follow my own agenda. I let the kids lead. That was a huge accomplishment for me.

Once we got home, I did a grocery run where I saved buckets of money with coupons (always a fun accomplishment), then came home and cooked/prepared food for a freaky-long time. I considered the women in generations before me who had to cook for hours at a time and figured I wouldn't have loved it so much if it was expected of me or if I didn't have any other options. But I was really in kitchen heaven from about 2 - 7 p.m. this afternoon - because it was my choice.

It's a great life lesson. Accomplishments are only satisfying if they are the ones we choose for ourselves. Public acclaim is great - and Lord knows I'm a sucker for it - but if my heart is really into the idea of baking the perfect loaf of bread one Saturday, then I might as well focus on that because nothing else is going to make me as happy. Since accomplishments and life callings tend to morph, maybe a few months later I'll be called to lead a board meeting. If so, I'll just go at it with the same gusto and that accomplishment will as satisfying as today's cooking...

Although there's no way it will smell as delicious.

The Anglification of Jenn

2010-06-20T19:45:00.000-05:00

I have no idea if "anglification" is an actual word. Probably not, since Blogger adds red squiggly lines under the word. That is rarely a good sign, grammatically speaking. For the purposes of this posting, however, could we all agree to accept its existence?

Okay. Good. I will assume that you are in agreement if you've continued to read this far.

As background, you should understand that I was raised by a mother who was very proud of her Irish and Cherokee heritage. I knew about the Irish struggle for independence at a rather young age for a girl raised in the American South. As a matter of fact, I suspect that by the time I was 8 or 9, I could tell passersby about Bloody Sunday, the Great Hunger and the Trail of Tears. (After tonight, my son can now do the same in regards to the Irish pieces of our past...but more about that in just a bit.)

At any rate, my small forays into genealogy never revealed English blood in my heritage and I've stood by that claim, although it's notable to point out that I also never dug any deeper into my bloodlines. (Yes, I'm part Welsh on my father's side but I never considered that to be "English," especially after watching the movie The Englishman Who Walked Up a Hill and Came Down A Mountain. Grand piece of cinema, that.)

My daughter (my red-haired, freckled, passionate daughter) spent the last week at soccer camp where she was assigned to the "English" team. Because of that, she now wants an English soccer jersey and wants to cheer for England all the time. As we sat in a pub tonight (well, the American version of a pub - the Lion and Rose), eating English food for the first time ever - she went on about how much she loved England and I tried to shut it down before coming to my senses and remembering that we are, in fact, living in 2010. And the English government just this week apologized for Bloody Sunday.

Between the scrumptious fish and chips my daughter ordered, the rather tasty pastie I simply had to try after reading so much about them in Harry Potter, and - OF COURSE - the apology, I decided that the time has come for me to bury the hatchet...so to speak. I suppose our children really do teach us how to let go. If my daughter is in love with England for the time being, who am I to disagree with her? So, I found a way to embrace my new acceptance of the English as I scarfed down half a pastie and half a bubble & squeak (sort of a latke made of mashed potatoes).

That didn't stop me from giving my son a succinct history lesson about the Great Hunger during our drive home. It is, after all, the reason the McCourts (my maternal line) came to America and I think he should know of it.

Knowing my daughter and her ability to introduce the unexpected into my life, she'll probably end up marrying an Englishman. With my luck, it will be a member of the aristocracy. Yikes. I suppose that will be fine as long as he brings a wicked bread pudding recipe to the family.

David's Photography

2010-06-19T20:22:00.001-05:00

I just uploaded some great photographs (taken by my husband) on a new page. Look on the left-hand side of this page and you'll see a link to a page entitled "David's Photography." Check it out. One of the red-tailed hawk photographs was taken by a 40-year-old Nikon zoom lens attached to his D300. Kudos to anyone who can guess which picture it is!