Diaries are good.

 I only recently got back into my blog (primarily reading...not so much writing) and I realized that it's super cool (and arguably therapeutic) to read what I wrote in ages past. MULTIPLE counselors (don't ask) have told me it's really important to keep a journal - in part so that a person can look back on their thought process. This, it turns out, is accurate.

I've noticed a few things as I've re-read my old posts. 

1. There are some CLEAR indications of certain medical conditions (Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and neurodivergence in particular) that were not originally on my radar but are now BLATANTLY obvious. 

2. I loved, loved, loved raising my kids - which of course I knew to a certain extent but I did not appreciate how many happy and funny times we had and how great a relationship we had (at least from my perspective, I hope they agree...fingers crossed).

3. I'm not a bad writer. I mean, I'm not going to try to get published or anything b/c that would put my words and thoughts out to...you know...actual PEOPLE and that's just not what I'm going for but it's nice to recognize that I have a little bit of a gift.

4. On that note (#3 above in case you are wondering) - are you able to explain why it is I resist writing a journal that I keep in my bedside drawer but I'm willing to write on a public website? I think it's because I moderate my expression enough on the website to not be totally embarrassed but I know that if it's pen-and-ink in the aforementioned bedside table then I wouldn't be so restrained so there would be much more at risk. 

Psychology is interesting. 

9-ish years later....

 The poem I just posted (called "Rain") wasn't really written today. I started looking through my old blog posts (thank GOODNESS I could find them...) and came across that unpublished one. I liked it but when I hit publish, it gave it today's date. Which makes sense, but I still felt the need to set the record straight about it. 

I am loving reading my old posts, remembering things about my kids and my life that I'd forgotten, and now I'm wondering - why on Earth did I stop writing in my blog? My best guess is that it's because I gave up on writing all together. You want to know what else I gave up on? Reading. I mean technically I still read (I am a member of a book club after all) but it's not NEARLY the amount of reading I used to do, especially when I was a kid/teenager. I think my abandonment of reading and writing are connected. Yeah, yeah, yeah - I know. That's not a profound realization - a third grader could figure that one out. 

So...here I am again. I think I gave up on writing because the idea of putting a novel out scares me to death. I'm certain that my childhood trauma would come out in my writing, either directly or indirectly and I just can't handle that. But guess what guys? This blog is about as anonymous as I could hope for. I'm going to tell two of my previous cheerleaders that I'm writing again but for the most part I know I'm putting my words out into the ether and I've decided that's the way I like it! (Although if anyone does read this and feels compelled to leave a comment, it's more than welcome.)

Maybe I should briefly state what's new in my life. We are empty-nesters with 2 dogs (it used to be 3 but we had to say goodbye to Henry this year...and I still have trouble looking at photos of him). My daughter is married, my son is engaged and they are both out of college. Damn. A lot can happen in 9 years, right?

Oh - and we plan on moving to Colorado in about a year. I'm done with Texas (which makes me very, very sad to say but it's true).

I'll be back. Stay tuned.

Rain

Hiding from the rain
Waiting to live life...waiting
Afraid of rainbows.

Day 3 - Mamma & Daughter DC Trip

Sunday was our last full day in DC. We arrived at the Air & Space museum just a few minutes before it opened.

A&S has some really fun toys, and we enjoyed them tremendously. We're definitely a couple of science nerds. I've often regretted that I didn't major in biology and become a scientist. It will be tons of fun to watch Kathryn pursue her forensic science degree over the next few years. 

The A&S gift shop was AWESOME. We both purchased gifts for the men in our lives at that shop PLUS I bought myself Rosie the Riveter earrings (yet another feminist-themed moment in our vacation) and bought a NASA suit in a baby size with the idea that we'd dress our schnauzer in it for fun but one day it could become a cute outfit for a grandkid so it's TOTALLY fine and normal that I spent $30 on a gift for my dog. 

After A&S we crossed the mall to head into the National Gallery and really enjoyed soaking up the art. It was perfect. It's always amazing to see original Renoir and Van Gogh and be just inches away from the actual brush strokes. However, it's just as incredible (but in a different way) to see new art. One of the highlights for me was walking through the special exhibit on Bazille. A month earlier, I'd heard the story about Bazille on NPR (take a listen to it here - it's great). What a great way to experience the art! As soon as we returned to the hotel room, I played that NPR story for Kathryn. We ate a delicious lunch at the art museum before heading over to the wing with the modern art then returning to the hotel to rest before our evening excursion. 

I loved this piece of art - very fun and inspiring for me:

After our rest, our wonderful relative, Aunt L, picked us up and drove us to Annapolis for our final evening. What a gorgeous place. We wandered through the brick streets, admired the harbor and ate dinner at a French bistro. Heaven. 

Afterwards, she drove us over the Chesapeake bridge just to see it and then took us to see the Jefferson Memorial at night. We were all exhausted but so glad she insisted that we go see at least one memorial at night. If you know me, you know I'm a HUGE Hamilton fan so I was thinking of Daveed Diggs the whole time I was looking at Jefferson's huge statue.

The view of the Washington Monument was gorgeous.

After that we headed back to the hotel to get ready for our final morning. We calculated that we'd have enough time to run by the FBI building so I could grab a photo of Kathryn in front of it since she hopes to someday work for the FBI. Yea for our awesome relative who made sure we ended our trip with such an inspiring site!

Day 2 - Mamma & Daughter DC Trip

Subtitle for Day 2 - And Yet, They Persisted...

Here's a lovely statue (sorry for the poor photo) of Lucretia Mott, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony. Three women who fought diligently for our freedoms.

And here we are, 21st century American women at our nation's capitol. Getting ready for the first tour of the morning. It was GREAT. We learned so much.

Our tour guide, Hal, knew so much. Here he is explaining that we are in the crypt, which (I learned) actually means a room that supports another room above it.

We saw a statue of Abraham Lincoln, commissioned by Congress right after his death. The artist was an 18 year old woman. How awesome is that? Especially since I was enjoying this tour with my own 18-year-old daughter. Feminism. For. The. WIN. 

There's a tunnel that goes from the Capitol to the Library of Congress, which is gorgeous. (The library, not the tunnel, although there's nothing wrong with the tunnel.) The gift shop in the LoC is my favorite. I resisted buying the bag with this punk version of my favorite poet on it but only JUST.

Speaking of feminism...

After the tour of the Capitol, we headed over to the Botanical Garden, which is one of the most peaceful memories I have of my honeymoon. Kathryn loved it also. Woot!

Then it was time to head to the Holocaust Museum. We walked part-way then Ubered the last little bit. As you might expect, the Holocaust Museum was emotionally draining and I shed some tears but it was so well done and I hope everyone makes a point of seeing it at some point. Even the architecture is profound, it very much feels like some of the photos and videos you've seen of the railway stations and concentration camps associated with the Nazis and their evil regime.

This photo is from the Children's Tile Wall and I loved this quote: "I think the Sun should come out for Everyone."

After resting at the hotel for a bit, we went on a cruise which we'd expected would include sights of the monuments and such but...not so much. Sigh. Oh, well. You can tell we aren't terribly thrilled.

Day 1 - Mamma & Daughter Trip to DC

My first born just graduated from high school so we are celebrating by traveling to D.C. together. (That might sound odd to some, but I told her to pick a place for a vacay and if I could make it happen I would. I raised her well to be a complete museum nerd so she was eager to return to our nation's capitol for a Smithsonian trek.)

We flew into Dulles then hopped onto a a bus to get to the metro and we both looked SUPER stylish after starting our day with a 5 a.m. flight out of Austin, Tx. Beauty comes from joy and we are pretty darn excited.

Man...I wish Texas had good metro systems. Sigh.

After checking into our hotel we walked to the International Spy Museum. This is yet another instance (there have been MANY in my life) when I am so glad to have Kathryn as a friend. I wouldn't have picked this museum but it was really cool. Lots of artifacts, lots of history and we each had to memorize a "character" that we were quizzed on throughout the exhibits to make sure we had what it took to be good spies. Pretty fun.

 This is a toy truck brought into Canada by the son of a foreign intelligence operative. It had about three concealed tiny tools (like a reader for "microdots" - which I'd never even heard of until today - go look them up on wikipedia if you're curious) for spy work. Sort of makes me ponder the family dynamics in that case. Cool toy for the kiddo but it's so dad (or maybe mom?) could spy on Canada. Did the kid sometimes wonder why his toy was missing in action? Something tells me that child grew up with many interesting stories to share.

Speaking of interesting stories....I'll just set this photo out for your perusal. Hmmmmm. Spy work ain't so glamorous after all, is it?

The photo below is an example of how spies and private citizens escaped from East Berlin before the East German government caught on to this insanely cramped way of escaping the communist regime and started examining cars more closely. 

It's sort of hard to tell, but there's someone crammed up in the engine block area and two people behind the driver. What a nightmare. It really makes me grateful for the freedoms we have in our country and the fact that I don't have to figure out how to escape from an oppressive regime. By the way, happy almost July 4th. Let's make sure we protect everyone's freedom, ok?
*shakes head, resumes vacation blog*

By the time we left the museum I was STARVING so we Yelped nearby options and found Hen Quarter (this location just opened 6 weeks ago). This sounds insane but I'm not kidding when I tell you the food was a RELIGIOUS experience. I got the fried chicken plate primarily because it came with collard greens and everything was incredibly and perfectly delicious. WOW.

The food, my friends - the FOOD!!!

Tomorrow we will be at the Capitol bright and early for a tour. Stay tuned!

My Love Letter to the United States

Today is Valentine's Day - a day to celebrate true love. It seems my country deserves a lot of love right about now. None of us are having an easy time of it and isn't that exactly when we should remind ourselves why we choose to be in this relationship?

USA:

I love you because you push me. As soon as I get complacent and think there's no reason to work hard, you remind me that I owe it to myself, my family and complete strangers to dig deeper. You're not going to let me sit on my butt and watch the world go by.

I  love you because you are beautifully imperfect. You came into being from the minds of men and women who disagreed (often violently) and kept fighting with each other long after the Revolution was in our history books. You pushed your way onto this continent, sometimes destructively, and continued to redefine yourself. You know democracy is a journey, not a destination, so you're only strengthened by imperfection.

I love you because you survived the trauma of a civil war. I love the fact that, even when you try to solve problems, you sometimes make them worse. I love you because when you mess up, you tend to mess up dramatically. When the pendulum swings the other way and you bring justice forward, that justice is so dramatic that it's louder than any other voice in the room. Drama is painful but you always bring forth new growth after pain.

I love you because you are confusing and messy. I love you because you're home to so many different kinds of people I don't understand and will probably never understand. I love you because you're complicated and I love you because you sometimes make life terribly hard, then give me the opportunity to find wild success.

True love is never easy. A life surrounded by others who think just like me might be easy and (seemingly) peaceful, but it would be a boring, pointless existence.

I love my country, and I'll never give up on it.

Requiem for Carrie & The Letter I Never Sent

Noon, CST. December 27, 2016.

This was the moment I learned that 2016 stole Carrie Fisher from the world. For days, I’ve lived in fear of losing her because 2016 already ravaged our world almost beyond recognition. We lost great artists (Alan Rickman, Prince, David Bowie, Leonard Cohen) and great minds (Gwen Ifill, John Glenn, Harper Lee). These deaths are a drop in the bucket of what 2016 brought and all of them pale in comparison to the horror so many Americans felt as we watched discrimination and nationalism sweep through the world, culminating in public displays of neo-naziism and unrestrained hatred in our own country.

It’s true that, as I sit alone in my house today, my time and energy would arguably be best spent on critical human rights issues or (at the very least) working my way through the pile of legislative summaries and other work I must complete before the close of this appalling year. But I have to pause because I’d intended to write Carrie Fisher a letter before the end of the year and now it’s too late. Before the sun sets, I at least want to send these words out into the universe to honor her memory.

I’m going to write this letter in present tense, as if I hadn’t missed the opportunity to send it to Carrie in time.

Carrie,

Beginning with the 1977 release of Star Wars, I adored you and wanted to be just like you. This is, of course, unsurprising as my adoration was matched by almost every other girl born in 1971 (of which an ungodly number of us shared the name “Jennifer”). Hollywood always put heroines in movies, but Leia represented an important shift. Our young eyes saw, for the first time, a princess who was notable for her bad-assery and snarky comebacks, not for her (undeniable) beauty. I was a very small, very shy first-grade girl who quietly hid some very painful secrets from my parents. Because of those secrets, I’d already accepted the “truth” that I was only valuable if men found me attractive. I didn’t have the words to express that painful belief as a six-year-old, but it was there and had been eating away at my soul for as long as I could remember.

Leia planted a seed in my heart that didn’t truly start to bear fruit until just a few years ago when I started to value myself (just a little bit) beyond what I saw in the mirror. Leia’s toughness nudged me towards sanity before I even knew I was ensconced in craziness. Was Star Wars ideally egalitarian and was Leia perfectly powerful and feminist in every way? No and no. Neither am I. As a very young child who truly thought victimhood was my only option, I reveled in your portrayal of Leia. I imagined finding opportunities to toss out Leia’s brilliant one-liners. (Re: “Will somebody get this walking carpet out of my way?” and “That doesn’t sound too hard” as a response to an egotistical man bragging that he sometimes even impresses himself.)

Although my adoration started with the way you brought Leia to life, that’s just the beginning. Every time I came across your distinctive intelligence and humor, it felt like I’d found a special golden prize. As I grew up with the rest of the Jennifers-of-1971, we were thrilled with your role in When Harry Met Sally and practically squealed with glee when we saw your cameos on the TV series that defined our generation (Friends, Sex and the City, The Big Bang Theory).

It’s pretty obvious that I’ve always put you on a pedestal, but I never considered writing you a letter until last week, when I finally took the time to watch videos of your recent appearance on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. Those clips led me on a classic YouTube hunt for more Carrie interviews, stretching all the way back to a 1983 David Letterman interview on Late Night. For the first time ever, it seemed to me that you were struggling with a fair amount of self-doubt and a belief that you weren’t beautiful. Maybe I’m just projecting my own insecurities onto you. If so, I do apologize, but I’m not going to stop writing this letter.

My heart broke as I listened to you because, even in the 1983 clip,  it seems so obvious that you were saddled with the same crappy “I’m only worth something if I attract men” baggage that wore me down for decades. I always saw you as this amazing, confident, talented and BRILLIANT human (because...you know...you are amazing, talented and brilliant) but as you spoke, I realized fame didn’t inspire confidence. Quite the contrary, I suspect.

Do you know what a gift it was for me when you told us about your relationship with Harrison Ford? In 1977, you were still a kid (19 years old), at your first big adult job, working with a crapload of guys who were DECADES older than you and holding your own like the boss actor you are. Everyone was working hard, you’re trying to prove yourself and then you get involved with a married guy who’s about twenty years older than you. During a recent interview, someone asked if you were in love with him during Star Wars and it seemed a certain sadness flashed quickly over your features before you said: “It was infatuation.”

Allow me to project my own perceptions on you one more time as I interpret what I think I saw on your wise and beautiful face.

Carrie, infatuation probably played a part but I suspect it was also love - at least as you understood it at the time, which (news flash) means it was love for you. I also suspect that when it ended and you saw him and practically every other man in your universe move on to younger women, a piece of your soul was torn away. Not because he was the perfect guy for you or because you wanted to marry him, but because he represented society’s ugly but false “truth” that men determine our ultimate value. I’m afraid that at some level, you might have accepted some of that false “truth.” I hope you didn’t, but I suspect your reaction mirrored that of the young women in my generation as we tried to make our way in the grown-up world.

We 1971-Jennifers know where you’re coming from. After all, society ended up using our name as a freaking symbol of how older men wanted to hook up with much younger women. If you google “Jennifer Syndrome” you’ll see what I mean.  (See Jennifer Fever by Barbara Gordon. A book published the month I turned 19 and began college, about why older men prefer to hook up with much younger women. Thanks, society. That was an AWESOME image for me as I tried to imagine myself succeeding in business someday.)

We all have our demons and you’re no exception. But you did a lot more than entertain us. You generously shared your struggles with family, addiction and identity as you helped all of us laugh at our imperfections.

I’m just another regular woman who’s a huge fan of your acting, writing and all-around hilariously intelligent existence, so you might never see this letter. (I’m guessing you probably get a fair bit of fan mail.) Regardless, I hope you know what a difference you’ve made in my life. When I hear your voice and read your words, I laugh, smile and still see you as one of the most beautiful and inspiring women around. Since 1st grade, you’ve represented someone I want to emulate.  By the way, guess what? Your positive influence extends far beyond my generation. My daughter (a few months shy of her 18th birthday) watched all those interviews right by my side, laughed with me and gushed about how you are one of the most fabulous women around.

You are fabulous, Carrie. You're beautiful inside and out and you’ve done great things. Thank you.

With undying admiration,

Jennifer

Marginal Haiku

I may or may not have previously mentioned that my best long-term friend (Megan Willome) is an incredible poet and recently published a book which makes poetry compelling and accessible to all of us. (Joy of Poetry - check it out.)

At any rate, I credit Megan with creating a buzz in the back of my head so that I now see poetry as a constant presence. Fast forward to today's plane trip, when my 13-year-old son fell asleep on my arm and I was pretty much stuck in my seat with the Southwest Airlines magazine and a pen. (The crossword was crazy easy, so it only took a few minutes.)

I didn't have access to the typical electronic distractions so haiku bubbled forth from my head onto the margins of p. 98. (I've always loved haiku - it's like a puzzle to me.) Wonder what might happen if I put down my electronic distractions more often? Hmm.

For your amusement, here are my nine haiku poems presented in the order they jumped onto the page. They start out obviously smarmy/corny but become more real as I relax a bit (or at least that's my interpretation of it). At any rate, I highly recommend this as an exercise in stream of consciousness writing. I go from motherhood to political conventions during the course of about 20 minutes (maybe less). It sort of makes me wonder why.

Flying with my kids

They sleep throughout the whole ride

My joy is complete

Babies remind me 

To cherish each adventure

Although life is hard

We always forget 

To bring jackets on airplanes

AC freezes us

My dog shows her love

By crying for me each time

I leave her alone

Busy moms and dads

Look for snacks and read to kids

As my teens sleep on

The space for haiku

Is now very limited

So my writing shrinks

Almost forty-five

My ankle objects each day

But my smile is strong

Friends are always there

But they can't be everything

I give myself strength

Watching Conventions

Is like watching a family

Have holiday fights

Turning Mountains Into Molehills with Lin-Manuel's Music

Jenn's Sad, Sad Closet

 I have a confession to make. 

< ------- THIS was the normal state of my closet for a shockingly long time.

I know….trust me, I know.

I’ve lost clothes (not to mention shoes, jewelry, exercise equipment and my sanity) in there.

I don’t enjoy living in clutter - it stresses me out to no end. The problem was that every time I thought about tackling this mess, I gave up before I even started. It seemed like way too big of a problem. It was too time consuming and too complicated. (What if I don’t have enough room for my shoes or clothes?...What if my favorite necklace isn’t at the bottom of that pile and I have to admit that it seems to be gone for good?)

Jenn's MUCH  Better Closet

This is my closet today ------ >

But don’t be impressed yet because this ain’t my first cleaning rodeo. I go through the clean-clutter cycle on a pretty regular basis. It’s not actually all that difficult to organize my closet. The hardest part is starting the job. After that, I just have to set a timer for 5 minutes and clean until the timer ends. That keeps the work from seeming insurmountable because I’m not actually trying to do ALL the work right away. I’m just working for 5 minutes. No big deal. Sometimes I really get into my podcasts and accomplish 30 minutes of good solid cleaning. I even end up enjoying the process. Totally weird but it works.

The tricky part (which I’ve yet to master) is making sure that I don’t allow my closet to become a mountain of work again. The only way for me to succeed is to make sure I spend 5 minutes, 33 seconds on my closet each day. Luckily, that’s the EXACT amount of time it takes for me to sing along with Lin-Manuel Miranda as he belts out “My Shot” on the Hamilton soundtrack.

Oh, yes. Hamilton - that groovy but scampy Founding Father is going to be the secret to my success because I’ve got 23 fabulous hip hop tracks to give me short bursts of organizational inspiration.

Wondering what my next success story will be? Weight lifting.

Wellness, general good health and having a free-from-pain and moderately muscular body is the Everest of mountains in my life right now. I have SO FAR to go and so little time to spare for exercise.

The idea of doing a 30 minute workout feels like the impossible dream, because it sounds draining and I also seriously doubt that it will make much of a difference. Luckily - science and hip-hop are coming to my rescue!

The Science

A recent Scientific American article reported that 30 minutes of walking each day (even if the walking happens in bits and pieces) reduces the risk of dying over a three-year period by 33%. That might not be enough to turn me into a svelte athlete, but it’s a darn good start.

As far as weight training goes, there’s some really great news in that department as well. This article from Greatist gives me a lot of hope because it turns out that a couple of basic strength training workouts each week could result in huge benefits.

I’m already doing a good job of getting plenty of steps in each day. (There’s nothing like a little bit of marital FitBit competition to inspire a more walking, amirite?) Now I need to find a way to add two 20-minute strength training workouts into each week. I panicked just thinking about the idea of setting aside time to build muscle until I remembered my new hero -  Lin-Manuel.

My hip-hop Hamilton plan!

Workout #1 - Start the Hamilton soundtrack at “Ten Duel Commandments” and keep going all the way through “What Comes Next.” It’s not quite 20 minutes (15 minutes, 39 seconds) but I’ll be pumped up  enough that I know I’ll keep going…King George is my new favorite villain so ‘ending’ with him is perfect because I won’t let him have the last word!

Workout #2 - Start Hamilton at “Non-Stop,” skip the two tracks that bum me out (“Take A Break” and “Say No To This”) so I don’t lose my fight and keep pumping iron (or, in my case, heavy plastic) all the way through “The Room Where It Happens.” That’s 19 minutes and 14 seconds of heart-pounding patriotism.

So there you have it - I’m going to use my favorite music to break my emotional mountains (organization and creating a healthy, strong body) down into tiny pieces.

I am NOT throwing away my shot!

Google + Jenn's Insomnia = W.T.F???

Have you tried the late night Google game of typing in your name to find out what Google has to say about you? It's actually an excellent activity* while you're in the midst of insomnia, but if you're easily insulted....you might want to try YouTube instead. 

Wait...then you have the YouTube comments. 

Never mind.

Back to Google's late-night-Jennifer theories:

- Why is Omaha #1 on my likes? I've never even been there. (Although I'm sure it's perfectly fine.)

- Pooping at parties...I just....maybe it will pull up one of those funny Poopourri ads? Let's assume that's the case.

- I keep seeing "photography" as "pornography" every time I re-read this screen shot. Don't ask me why because I'm sure as heck not exploring that one.

- Now this is odd. I had no idea what a "bellarmine" was. Turns out it's a university in Louisville, Kentucky. (That's where I was born so I'm thinking it's some significant sign. Of what....? I have no idea, but I don't want the poop or photography-pornography to be a sign so I'm going with Bellarmine as my sign.)

*Muchas gracias to my favorite author, Jenny Lawson, for reminding me about this game as I was trolling her blog during tonight's insomnia.