crushedcorn

This year will mark my 10 year high school reunion, and in honor of this sentimental event numerous FaceBook friends have started posting pictures of their high school experiences.  I show up in a few of them, a smiling face but a forgettable one sitting at the edge of the action.  I’d like to say that that wouldn’t characterize pictures of me now, but I’ve realized that I have no pictures of my own with which to compare this theory. 

Sifting through my photos, I find that Blue boy has been the apple of the camera’s eye and I am no better than a doting mother.  He’s got a face that would melt you, but an attitude that would make you yell at him to get off of your lawn.  If his teenage attitude were translated into a human body, he would be the kid who tackles during touch football but doesn’t see a problem with it.  He would be the kid talking during the movies with no intention of quieting down.  But in his defense he would also give you his coat if it were snowing outside and he was just as cold as you.  He would always greet you with a warm welcome regardless of what ills or bad feelings may have previously passed between you, even if you took away his video games before he was ready to stop playing.  I realize the extreme self-indulgence involved in pondering the human state of my very non-human dog, but look into his eyes and you’ll wonder if he really understands more than you give him credit for.

I’ve probably said too much.  If after this post you decide that it’s not a good idea to come back and visit me, I’ll understand.  But if you’re a pet owner, you won’t think that this entire mental conversation is so strange.  If you’re a cat owner, I have no idea how you feel.

As for the title of this blog, can someone fully explain that bumper sticker to me?

Counting yesterday, I have walked out of the house with the long size sticker running down the length of my new pants at least twice, maybe three times.  You know the one.  The one that screams “6 Ankle” or whatever the size is, alerting everyone that while you may have a fancy new pair of slacks you don’t have a mirror in which to see this knee length adhesive strip.  But whatever.  Work isn’t a fashion show, and if it were I would be like the guys that still wear baseball hats with the tags attached.  Then again, that used to be “cool”.  Size stickers on you pant let – that’s another story.

The reason I bring up the leg sticker incident is because that sums up my week.  I’ve been at work.  I’ve showed up and done what I should do.  But there’s just been a little something off, and that something has just been a glaring distraction since Monday (it doesn’t help that I focus on how “off” I am.  I’m not a saint).  Blame my pitiful lunches for it (Monday: soup, Tuesday: soup, Wednesday: soup and siaopao, Thursday: siaopao), blame my lack of sleep for it, but I’m going to blame the holiday hangover for it.  Not a literal hangover, but one where remnants of the events of that past few weeks have just drained me of most everything I would have to give to work.  The exceptions are checking FaceBook and my personal email accounts, I still put myself into that wholeheartedly at work.

Yesterday Zach and I started a workout routine.  Infomercial lovers will know it as P90X and it is definitely a butt kicker.  We didn’t make any new year’s resolutions, but we have been agonizing over our muffin tops and flag-waving underarms so we figured that we should put the workout routine we purchased last May to use.  We’re going strong at Day 2.  Ask me how things are going when day 6 or 7 rolls around.  But seriously, I’m really geeked about it and hopefully it will help me kick some tail at the 500 Festival in May.

The tree near our old apartment balcony

Since the year started, how many times have you wished it was summer?

I’m not sure if anyone reads this anymore, and this post isn’t a promise of consistent updates.  But this is a good faith post that if you read it, I will try to bring you more.  And if no one is reading this, then I can indulge myself with my skewed and confused thoughts and feel like I’m releasing them into the cyberworld where they can come back to haunt me simply by typing in address of this blog into my browser.  So therapeutic.

The holiday rush is now over and I’m barely prepping myself to return to life as usual.  I prefer to revel in the good times and family times instead of putting my head under the 8am-5pm hours of work life right away.  Sure, my head may be in the clouds for the first few days back but could you expect anything else?  I prefer to ease back into this post-holiday life anyway, and I think I can make that luxury work.

I made no new year’s resolutions nor do I plan to, but I have found a bit of that new year motivation propelling me through the weekend.  That could also be the motivation of coming home to a sty of a house and wanting to be able to sleep at night, but I’m not going to question the source, I’m just thankful that it is there.  There is nothing worse than starting at a clean slate without any inspiration with which to fill it.  I hope everyone had a great holiday season and that you all have something that has pushed you willingly through the doors of 2009. 

Speaking of 2009, my 10 year high school reunion is coming up this year.  Geesh…Maybe I’ll go in there and tell everyone that I invented scotch tape.  Does anyone think that will work?

All throughout the day, almost every day, I think of topics that would be perfect for this internet propelled mental bleedout.  But since those moments always pass before I’ve sat down and signed in, I decided to just sit down anyway and see what comes of it.

In today’s news, some of you may not know that Zach and I will soon be moving into a house.  It’s a rental house but still the first place that we’ve ever lived in that was free standing and not dependent on a shared wall.  We’ll have a yard, a park across the street and easy access to downtown (less than 3 miles away).  I’m imagining waking up early on Saturday mornings to take advantage of the Dane County Farmer’s Market, familiarizing myself with the many restaurants downtown, spending Wednesday evenings soaking up music and mingling at the Union, and just enjoying life in a neighborhood and not an apartment or student ghetto.  Before all of the benefits we have to do the hard work of painting and moving but everything comes with a price.

Thanks to Ivy and Nina’s reviews of “interesting,” I have picked up “Wicked” by Gregory Maguire.  For those of you who knew me in my young “Redwall” days, “Wicked” is right up my alley but interestingly enough, Harry Potter was never a close friend of mine.  It’s driving me a bit crazy that I have a little of “Eats Shoots & Leaves” left yet to read, but I needed something different to keep my imagination roving.  I have a serious fear that I am losing some of my mental capacity – both left and right brain – so keeping things varied seems like a good idea.  That and a lot of Yahoo! Games crossword puzzles.  I’ll get you some day, you darn Sunday Challenge puzzles!

I’ve never thirsted for the pain of a tattoo, but I’m hoping that a design I created for Zach will help him achieve that satisfying burn of permanency.  Tattoos have always enthralled me but few ideas have seemed good enough to have a place of solidarity among my skin cells.  This conversation is coming on the tail of a desire to stock my accessory drawer with funky necklaces, dangly earrings, and generally any other type of physical adornment.

I think one reason I am so drawn to writing is that while I’m informing you all of the mishmash going on in my life, I can simultaneously talk like a chipmunk baby to Blue dog.  That face is so distracting…

I think I just broke my cell phone.  “Just” as in 10 minutes ago in an attempt to clear out all of the mp3s that I don’t listen to it seems to have cleared out everything it knew.  Now it’s randomly turning itself on and off.  That’s probably the reason my phone has the insurance on it and Z’s doesn’t. Huh.

The other day Nina and I were discussing who would be what Little Miss or Little Mr. character and while at first I rejected it, I do see myself filling the role of Little Miss Scatterbrain.

It’s not a position I feel I fit aesthetically, but mentally there is a bit of a resemblance.  I can focus and pay intense attention to things, but then again the most harmless comment or anecdote can set me on a seemingly disconnected verbal track that was completely rational to me.  Does forgetting parts of a movie that you just watched fall into the “scatterbrain” category too?  I’m vying for the position of Little Miss Helpful or Curious or Busy, but its just fun to find which character fits your shoes best.

That whole conversation made me think of the Sweet Pickles books.  Do you remember those?  I couldn’t tell you what a single one of them was about, but I remember loving them and being part of the Sweet Pickles club when I was a kid.  They sent me a green plastic bus and every month I would get games and lessons and stories to file inside it.  For some reason the one thing I remember about that was the card teaching you about washing your hands.  They were almost obsessive about it, telling you to wash your hands before and after you eat and before and after you go to the bathroom.  Not to be gross, but I don’t always wash my hands on all of those occasions.  Did Sweet Pickles fail in sending me their message of obsessive cleanliness?  Doesn’t matter.  I still love them.

While we’re going down memory lane I’m starting to long for my glow worms and extra long plush green caterpillar with sneakers on every single foot.  I miss the days when Toys R’ Us was relevant.  I still love cute illustrated characters (hello, Tokidoki!) and stuffed…things (Moxy Uglydoll is on my nightstand) so I think the kid in me has a pretty secure job.

I logged on with the intent to write about so many other things but all I can think of now is how I need to find the entire Sweet Pickles collection for the kiddos and when I can get my hands on this guy:

I’m so glad that life isn’t like “The Giver” by Louis Lowry where everyone gets the same gift when they turn a certain age.  If that were the case I wouldn’t start asking for the entire “Scrubs” series on DVD or hoping for a few Disney classics to fall under my birthday tree.  Just kidding.  Or not.  No, really.  I’m not.

I have this creeping fear that my job is causing me to get dumber. Seriously. Nothing against the job itself or the other people that do it, but for me I might as well sit in a windowless room polishing the same stainless steel bowl for 8 hours. It’s a legit fear when you feel your mind getting lazier, with your body slowly following after months of resistance signified by dragging feet and fumbling digits. I should be working on a crossword puzzle instead of blogging…but as my spelling skills and my ability to form sentences hasn’t waned, I’m going to remain here with you for at least a couple paragraphs more.

The other day I was wondering if one’s relationship with a food could physiologically alter it’s effect on your body. For example, when we sell french fries people always say they’re being “bad” by getting them. But then there are those people who unapologetically buy 2 boats of those greasy goods with no acknowledgment of wrongdoing. Assuming that this wasn’t a daily occurrence, is it possible that the former’s attitude towards what he or she is eating would cause the fat to layer on more thickly or quicker than the latter? I believe it. Just a thought.

The other day a coworker asked me what my interests are. I sputtered out “knitting,” but then went blank. How embarrassing. Am I that boring? Are my interests confined to 2 wooden sticks and a ball of animal fur? No, of course, but when I expand on my answer in my mind, they don’t widen by much. Reading, writing, knitting, and the outdoors – nothing to be ashamed of but still a list that I feel I can and should try to diversify and enlarge. Many people have that one thing that they are experts in. Zach can name just about any song and its singer with a word or a few notes. A friend knows every Tori Amos song ever created and probably those that she has yet to write. I don’t have that in my life. I love dog and crafts and running, but I’m not much more than an educated pet owner, I haven’t done anything above intermediate on the knitting scale, and I haven’t run more than 10 miles in my life. I’m sad about that, about not having a passion so great for something that I do what I can to become an expert at it or know everything about it. I have my little obsessions here and there, but they usually don’t go any further than that. I’m not sure if that’s a unbiased personality trait or a fatal flaw.

Whoa, it has been quite a while, hasn’t it? Instead of making another unkept vow promising to write posts more often, I’m just going to say that this is what happens with me and blogs, so let’s all accept it and read on.

Z and I got back Monday from our Steamboat vacation. It was wonderful, and while I was happy to find that I didn’t miss the town too much my heart wounds have reopened now that I’m no longer around my friends. It’s amazing what a huge difference having even one real friend to spend time with, even/especially when that time is spent watching Rock of Love II or Girls Behaving Badly (what is with all of those crazy b*tches?). Zach got to ski his heart out for a few days, I got to catch up with longer for friends, and we both got to celebrate his 30th at our favorite Steamboat restaurant: Tequila’s. They treated us like old friends and Z got to don the celebratory sombrero. My one regret is that I couldn’t find a decent 30th birthday card. I looked for 2 weeks and nothing got above shoulder shrug status on the lame-o-meter. You would think there would be more crazy, or at least decent, cards to celebrate this landmark but no. You all have 3 years and 3 months to find the perfect one for me. Hehe.

I have a problem with boring routines, and when we got back to work yesterday I unfortunately found that nothing had changed, at least not for the better. But Blue boy was back to complete our family and there is always that disruptive resettling time after any vacation to get  past.

Pictures of our snow vacation to follow…

How is it possible to be uninspired throughout the course of a day? Whether you revel in the beauty of nature, your physical belongings, or the face of a child, there is something miraculous on every plane. I find myself riding the ups and downs of inspiration and melancholy, nauseous on the inconsistency and unreliability of my own moods. But that is the life of a Gemini in a Wisconsin winter, and as this is my first one I’m giving myself time to adjust and wallow in my brights and blues.

That’s not to say that I’m at the whim of my fickle mind; I do have some control. And when that control extends to my paintbrushes I like to immortalize Blue in frames as well as photos:

I’m pretty proud of this one. I think Blue’s head gives off a bit of a light bulb effect, but I call him my little doggie with eyeliner, and that’s pretty prominent in the picture. Such a pretty boy. That last picture makes him look like some sort of alien camel though…

While we’re on the picture train, I might as well thrown in a couple of my rockin’ new haircut! If you’ve followed this blog, you will understand my obsession with the perfect haircut and getting my hair hacked regularly. I think I’ve finally found in a winner in cut and stylist this time, though. A bit of wisdom for the cheapies like me: Stay away from salons that have the word “cut” in their name (i.e. SuperCuts, Cost Cutters) and you’re bound to love your new ‘do.

(Picture to come! Grrr WordPress)

Happy New Year’s! I wish you all a happy, healthy, promising start and completion of 2008. Can you believe it’s been 8 years since the big Y2K scare? I saw numerous cars filling the lot of the one of the local Lutheran churches and wondered if the Rapture and the Apocalypse are events that people are still concerning themselves with. It’s at this time of year that the History channel dusts off their Nostradamus and Bible Code specials and plays them for the superstitious masses. They’re interesting, but not worth more then their entertainment value allows.

Lately, I’ve been entertaining myself by dusting off some old tools of my own: my watercolors. After a move many things once forgotten are brought to the surface, and nothing prompts one’s curiosity more than boredom. And one boredom filled day I started this duplication of a watercolor print sold at Crate and Barrel at least 2 years ago:

I think the finished product is attractive enough, but this picture of the real canvas is a little more flattering than the real thing; The camera really brings out the colors against the pale washed background.

Have a great day for those with the day off, and for those slaving away in the office today, you only have a few hours left before you can call it a day!

I don’t know of many phrases more cheerfully delivered and more sincerely spoken than “Merry Christmas.” The whole holiday season is full of apple-cinnamony warm salutations and frosting-sweet scenes of snow dripping over eaves and sparkling in the space between tree tops and the frozen ground.

Even the words we use at this time of year prompt us to use an otherwise archaic dialect. Words like “merry” and “jolly” are suddenly brought to life, and the thought of using any other expression in their stead would be considered sacrilege. Imagine how you would recoil if someone urged you to have a “Cheerful Christmas.” And “jolly?” How could Santa be anything else? But it’s not just words that change – entire modes of thinking and speaking are turned towards the sun, even at a time of year when that fiery orb has taken an absence. During Christmas we speak in cheery, bright tones which, if written down, would be colored in vivid yellows and oranges with italics and boldface abounding. I know this sentiment has been expressed and the wish for Christmas-like sincerity and care cried for over pages and pages of blogs and editorials, but I just had to add my voice to this call: Why can’t we all be as animated, bright, and sincere year round as we are during the holiday season? When I see trees and ornaments already being taken down, this cry feels more and more desperate, a plea to be taken up before the last bright holiday light is resolutely unplugged until next year.

To see pictures of a Very Handyside Christmas, click on the Flickr link to your right!