Let's have a little fun, shall we?
I just wanted to share a few things that I really like. I am in no way endorsing or promoting anything or anyone. Just my opinions, just because I can. Unfortunately, I won't be sending any of these items to you. And they are totally random, by the way.
Pantene Aqua Light Shampoo - I have short hair. Thick hair. Limp hair. And I hate to admit this here - oily hair. Sometimes at the end of the day, I can smell the oily. This helps me with that. No silicone to weigh my hair and oh, the smell! I love the smell of this shampoo!
Aussie Sprunch Hairspray - I have probably used this off and on since high school. It holds my hair but, it's not stiff and crispy, nor does it leave white dandruff looking flakes! And again, the smell!
Microsoft Wireless Mouse - I cannot use the touch pad or the little roller ball on my laptop. It's so odd to me, I can't get comfortable with it and in a meeting, I totally look like a weenie! As a matter of fact, it's totally disabled on this machine. I'm so jerky with it and constantly miss my mark. This though, is the best mouse I have had thus far. The battery life is phenomenal, it doesn't track by itself, and the USB plug is so small, I barely know it's there.
Starbucks White Chocolate Mocha - and add a shot of peppermint for the holiday season (as a friend just said "Christmas in a cup")! Practically perfect in every way! (and don't look at the calorie count on that link - you're better off not knowing!)
Patti Callahan Henry - I love her books. I love her writing style. I get lost in her world, her stories. And those are my favorite books to read!
McDonald's Sausage, Egg & Cheese McGriddles - This is my favorite breakfast. I don't have them often but, I totally love the sweet mapleyness in the pancake part combined with the savory of the sausage. YUM!
My Thirty One Large Utility Totes and my Thirty One Market Thermal Tote - All of my Thirty One products are straight up black (or dang close to it). I'm not into funky patterns and such. The large utility totes are AMAZING! They hold so much, and they're great for groceries, we use it for our food bag on trips (snacks, cups, plates, etc.). And the Market Thermal - I can't tell you enough great things about this. It's not a cooler but, it keeps food cold or warm. The key however, is to zip it completely shut!
The Michigan Electronic Library - I use this site quite often to borrow books my local library does not have on their shelves. I check my library first and if they do not have the title I'm looking for, I head to the elibrary and by a grant established to pay for this, I can attempt to locate my book in any library in Michigan and that library will mail my book to my library, free of charge.
Caldrea hand lotion in ginger pomelo - I don't like hand lotion. It's greasy, sometimes it smells off and sometimes it's too thin or smells like a baby. I love this lotion! It smells great - I use it on my face actually! It's not greasy at all. I even keep a bottle on my desk at work.
Milk Duds - Chocolate coated, caramel goodness that melt in your mouth. Need I say more?
I picked up a "PocketBac" of Island Margarita from Bath and Body Works the last time I was there. I found myself now wishing they had that scent in shower gels etc. it's so fresh and limey!
I am a ChapStick junkie. Check my winter coats, you'll find at least one tube in the pocket. My purse has about 10 of them, they're in my nightstand, my medicine cabinets and there is probably at least one tube in every room. I have 3 tubes in my desk drawer. This year, ChapStick came out with Candy Cane Peppermint. I love it! I'll be stocking up. I did just see on their FB page, they have green apple! Cherry is my next favorite and when I was a kid - they had orange! Whoa! And grape...fruit...blueberry?
Tupperware Thatsa bowl - This bowl holds 32 cups! I use it to mix salads, casseroles, stuff that makes a big mess and falls out of the bowl while you're trying to stir it. In the link photo, it's one with the apples in it.
Bissel Lift-off Deep Cleaner - This isn't quite the model that I have but, apparently they don't make my model anymore. I love owning a carpet cleaner! I love having a cleaner on hand when I need one rather than having to haul one home. Certainly worth the cost.
This is my list. What are some of your favorite things?
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Happy Thanksgiving 2012
This is the first year since Jacob was born when I haven't hosted Thanksgiving dinner. I'm still cooking, we're simply celebrating as our little family this year. As I sit here with my cup of coffee watching the Thanksgiving parades on TV, I can't help but be reminded of all the blessings I have in my life.
Faith, Family, Friends, and of course my beautiful child.
Love, honor, and respect.
Freedom and those who fight for it and those who protect it.
Heath and (in)sanity.
Employment.
I could expand on this list for hours upon hours when all I really need to say is:
Happy Thanksgiving to my family and friends! May you feel as blessed to have us as we are to have you.
Faith, Family, Friends, and of course my beautiful child.
Love, honor, and respect.
Freedom and those who fight for it and those who protect it.
Heath and (in)sanity.
Employment.
I could expand on this list for hours upon hours when all I really need to say is:
Happy Thanksgiving to my family and friends! May you feel as blessed to have us as we are to have you.
Monday, November 19, 2012
It's Complicated
I've been trying/planning/hoping to write more this year. I need to write to dump a lot of the junk I carry. It's as if once I get all of these words out of my head, I feel lighter, clearer, ready to move on again. It's like this emotion all piles on and piles on and as I type (I don't like to write with a pen and that's another post), I can feel it dropping off letter by letter.
This is one of those days where I feel so complicated, so conflicted and so sad. I feel like I don't have the right words or the correct labels to express how I feel. I want so many things to be different, to be better but, I can't find the words to say what it is I want. It comes out as kind of a jumbled mess in paragraphs of thoughts. I just want something other than this.
It's days like this when I wish I had one of those Magnetic Poetry kits, the one titled Feelings - if there is such a thing. I'd like a big metal board where I can throw up words like, confused, conflicted, morose, snarky, sarcastic, independent, somber, glum, loving, compassionate, sensitive and on and on and on.
I wonder at times if it's being a woman that complicates everything. I look at men and well, they're so simple, they either eat it, sit on it or stuff it. They don't need much else, right?
And I wonder if it's so complicated because I'm a reader. I love this quote: “You get a little moody sometimes but I think that's because you like to read. People that like to read are always a little fucked up.” ― Pat Conroy
I do love to read and I am a little artsy, a little creative, somewhat of a visionary. I am of a free-er spirit. I'm not totally free becasue I have to follow some rules. I don't like to be grounded or forced to think and yet my mind is going and thinking and planning. All. Of. The. Time. It's difficult to turn it off.
I don't like to think of the negatives in this world. Abuse, neglect, starvation, sickness or disease and if I dwell on those things too long, I get too sad. I don't like to be sad. It seems I'm always sad. But, I'm not sad. If I look sad, it's generally not sad. It's likely pensive. Deep in thought. Because everything requires thought or to be analyzed.
I am somewhat spoiled in the ways of life, I know. I can't undo that. I like nice things and I have expensive taste - how I came to LOVE Perrier with lime water, I will never know. And though I do not know what it is like to be poor, I do know what it is like to have compassion for those in true need. If you don't know this about me, I will give you the shirt off my back if you needed it. Notice I said, "In true need"? I have a ZERO tolerance for bullshit. And I spent a lot of time on the farm. I know me some bullshit when I smell it. I smell it from miles away.
I like to believe that all people are good. That no one would ever intentionally hurt someone else. I know it's not true, yet I am always disappointed to find out again and again.
I am genuine. I don't pretend to be someone I am not. I don't pretend to have money, or things or a great writing ability, or tons of friends. I'm not a good liar. What you see is what there is. What I give to you or tell you is my honest truth or the truth to the best of my knowledge. I may exaggerate - for instance I like the number 900 - "I told you like 900 times... " but, this is me, all me.
It breaks my heart to be taken advantage of. To be looked at as I have a silver spoon. I do not. I don't talk about my past because it's my past. It's what made me, what shaped me and well, it's past. I can't change it, I can't undo it and I can't blame anyone for it. I promise you - no silver spoons here. In high school, my mom gave me (I don't remember the exact amount) money, for school clothes and I remember, I had enough to buy 2 pairs of jeans I liked. Every other night, I had to do laundry to have clean pants for school. She didn't give me any more money for jeans. She'd allow $X for shoes and if I wanted anything else, I had to pay the difference with my own money. So though it looked like I had the best of everything, I didn't. I only had the best of one thing and I worked an awful job with this bitch of a manager (that hated my guts because apparently my sister that was killed wronged her in some way and she felt it necessary to punish me) after school and weekends for the rest.
I am responsible. Almost to a fault. I am a rule follower and you won't find much higher integrity that what I have. My job requires extreme attention to detail. A high amount of respect. And a work ethic like none you have ever seen before. I am trusted with managing an insane amount of money day after day. Most people have no clue what I even do. That's okay. My boss knows. My company knows. My suppliers know. That's enough. But, if you ask me, I'll explain it to you. That paragraph was tough. I don't generally give myself much credit. I don't pat myself on the back and well, I like it when you do but, if it's too much, I get uncomfortable quick like!
I am independent. I am strong. I am determined. I do not have a college degree but, I'm not dumb. I am not stupid. I may be ignorant in a few topics and I will tell you when that happens. I am very well read. I do have common sense though I do make some of the dumbest mistakes. I can laugh at myself and I don't really care if you laugh at me - well, as long as I'm laughing too, that is. I am emotional. I cry. Easily sometimes. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I'm loud. I'm opinionated. I don't have tolerance for those who waste my time. I believe in family. I believe in friendship. I believe in forgiveness. I believe in God.
Yet, for all of these things that I am, somewhere someone thinks differently of me. And maybe there are numerous someones. There is someone who thinks I need to be shushed. There is someone who thinks that I think I am better than they are. There is someone who thinks because I do cry, that I am weak. There is a small child who thinks that because I drive a nice car I should buy him what he wants from the local store. There is someone who asks my opinion and doesn't care to hear it. There is someone who thinks I am spoiled, irresponsible, weak, ignorant or tolerant. It's easy to say that is their problem yet there are days when it hits in the heart. There I days when I think these things of myself and more - if only I were cuter, thinner, smarter, stronger...and then I realize again, that these things don't matter and I am who I am.
We're right back where we started from, aren't we? I am who I am and it's complicated.
This is one of those days where I feel so complicated, so conflicted and so sad. I feel like I don't have the right words or the correct labels to express how I feel. I want so many things to be different, to be better but, I can't find the words to say what it is I want. It comes out as kind of a jumbled mess in paragraphs of thoughts. I just want something other than this.
It's days like this when I wish I had one of those Magnetic Poetry kits, the one titled Feelings - if there is such a thing. I'd like a big metal board where I can throw up words like, confused, conflicted, morose, snarky, sarcastic, independent, somber, glum, loving, compassionate, sensitive and on and on and on.
I wonder at times if it's being a woman that complicates everything. I look at men and well, they're so simple, they either eat it, sit on it or stuff it. They don't need much else, right?
And I wonder if it's so complicated because I'm a reader. I love this quote: “You get a little moody sometimes but I think that's because you like to read. People that like to read are always a little fucked up.” ― Pat Conroy
I do love to read and I am a little artsy, a little creative, somewhat of a visionary. I am of a free-er spirit. I'm not totally free becasue I have to follow some rules. I don't like to be grounded or forced to think and yet my mind is going and thinking and planning. All. Of. The. Time. It's difficult to turn it off.
I don't like to think of the negatives in this world. Abuse, neglect, starvation, sickness or disease and if I dwell on those things too long, I get too sad. I don't like to be sad. It seems I'm always sad. But, I'm not sad. If I look sad, it's generally not sad. It's likely pensive. Deep in thought. Because everything requires thought or to be analyzed.
I am somewhat spoiled in the ways of life, I know. I can't undo that. I like nice things and I have expensive taste - how I came to LOVE Perrier with lime water, I will never know. And though I do not know what it is like to be poor, I do know what it is like to have compassion for those in true need. If you don't know this about me, I will give you the shirt off my back if you needed it. Notice I said, "In true need"? I have a ZERO tolerance for bullshit. And I spent a lot of time on the farm. I know me some bullshit when I smell it. I smell it from miles away.
I like to believe that all people are good. That no one would ever intentionally hurt someone else. I know it's not true, yet I am always disappointed to find out again and again.
I am genuine. I don't pretend to be someone I am not. I don't pretend to have money, or things or a great writing ability, or tons of friends. I'm not a good liar. What you see is what there is. What I give to you or tell you is my honest truth or the truth to the best of my knowledge. I may exaggerate - for instance I like the number 900 - "I told you like 900 times... " but, this is me, all me.
It breaks my heart to be taken advantage of. To be looked at as I have a silver spoon. I do not. I don't talk about my past because it's my past. It's what made me, what shaped me and well, it's past. I can't change it, I can't undo it and I can't blame anyone for it. I promise you - no silver spoons here. In high school, my mom gave me (I don't remember the exact amount) money, for school clothes and I remember, I had enough to buy 2 pairs of jeans I liked. Every other night, I had to do laundry to have clean pants for school. She didn't give me any more money for jeans. She'd allow $X for shoes and if I wanted anything else, I had to pay the difference with my own money. So though it looked like I had the best of everything, I didn't. I only had the best of one thing and I worked an awful job with this bitch of a manager (that hated my guts because apparently my sister that was killed wronged her in some way and she felt it necessary to punish me) after school and weekends for the rest.
I am responsible. Almost to a fault. I am a rule follower and you won't find much higher integrity that what I have. My job requires extreme attention to detail. A high amount of respect. And a work ethic like none you have ever seen before. I am trusted with managing an insane amount of money day after day. Most people have no clue what I even do. That's okay. My boss knows. My company knows. My suppliers know. That's enough. But, if you ask me, I'll explain it to you. That paragraph was tough. I don't generally give myself much credit. I don't pat myself on the back and well, I like it when you do but, if it's too much, I get uncomfortable quick like!
I am independent. I am strong. I am determined. I do not have a college degree but, I'm not dumb. I am not stupid. I may be ignorant in a few topics and I will tell you when that happens. I am very well read. I do have common sense though I do make some of the dumbest mistakes. I can laugh at myself and I don't really care if you laugh at me - well, as long as I'm laughing too, that is. I am emotional. I cry. Easily sometimes. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I'm loud. I'm opinionated. I don't have tolerance for those who waste my time. I believe in family. I believe in friendship. I believe in forgiveness. I believe in God.
Yet, for all of these things that I am, somewhere someone thinks differently of me. And maybe there are numerous someones. There is someone who thinks I need to be shushed. There is someone who thinks that I think I am better than they are. There is someone who thinks because I do cry, that I am weak. There is a small child who thinks that because I drive a nice car I should buy him what he wants from the local store. There is someone who asks my opinion and doesn't care to hear it. There is someone who thinks I am spoiled, irresponsible, weak, ignorant or tolerant. It's easy to say that is their problem yet there are days when it hits in the heart. There I days when I think these things of myself and more - if only I were cuter, thinner, smarter, stronger...and then I realize again, that these things don't matter and I am who I am.
We're right back where we started from, aren't we? I am who I am and it's complicated.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Dislikes: Nuts
I do not like nuts.
I don't mind a few honey roasted peanuts or maybe some cashews but, mostly I just don't like nuts.
I don't like them in cakes or cookies, bread or, I don't know - salad maybe. I don't even like crunchy peanut butter. No peanut brittle. No fudge - walnuts are THE worst!
My mom adores this crap called Pea & Peanut salad. Peas, peanuts and mayonaise mixed together? YULK! And she says to me "How can you not like this? You LOVE peas!" And I do love peas but, for as much as I love peas, I hate peanuts even more!
I have heard it all! Banana Bread without nuts? Chocolate chip cookies, without nuts? You don't eat Pecan Pie? What about Zucchini Bread? That without nuts too! Oh Brownies aren't the same without nuts! Yes they are, they're BETTER!
I don't even drink nut flavored coffee or coffee creamer! Do you believe that? No Hazelnut (I also think French Vanilla is gross) but, oddly Amaretto or almond flavoring doesn't bother me - and I totally love cinnamon roasted almonds but, I will not touch cinnamon roasted any other nut.
I hate being surprised by nuts. Taking a big bite of a cookie or banana bread and getting a huge, crunchy chunk of walnut? I hate that! I have been known to spit (politely of course) out nuts. I have eaten the brittle and spit out the peanuts. I will spit out the nuts in ice cream and I do not get nuts on a sundae. I have also been known to uh, suck the chocolate off of peanut M&M's and give someone else the peanuts! Okay. In my defense I was like 6 or 7 and I didn't know at the time how gross that was. But - this is how I know the depth of the love my sister has for me! Again, I'm so sorry for doing that to you!
It's a texture thing. It's a crunch thing. It's a teeth thing. I don't like the unexpected crunch. I don't like the chewed up nut paste. I must have strangely shaped teeth as the nuts ALWAYS get stuck in my teeth and I HATE picking them out.
Once in a great while, I'll have a Snickers bar, maybe a Baby Ruth and I do eat peanut butter. Just please, no nuts.
I don't mind a few honey roasted peanuts or maybe some cashews but, mostly I just don't like nuts.
I don't like them in cakes or cookies, bread or, I don't know - salad maybe. I don't even like crunchy peanut butter. No peanut brittle. No fudge - walnuts are THE worst!
My mom adores this crap called Pea & Peanut salad. Peas, peanuts and mayonaise mixed together? YULK! And she says to me "How can you not like this? You LOVE peas!" And I do love peas but, for as much as I love peas, I hate peanuts even more!
I have heard it all! Banana Bread without nuts? Chocolate chip cookies, without nuts? You don't eat Pecan Pie? What about Zucchini Bread? That without nuts too! Oh Brownies aren't the same without nuts! Yes they are, they're BETTER!
I don't even drink nut flavored coffee or coffee creamer! Do you believe that? No Hazelnut (I also think French Vanilla is gross) but, oddly Amaretto or almond flavoring doesn't bother me - and I totally love cinnamon roasted almonds but, I will not touch cinnamon roasted any other nut.
I hate being surprised by nuts. Taking a big bite of a cookie or banana bread and getting a huge, crunchy chunk of walnut? I hate that! I have been known to spit (politely of course) out nuts. I have eaten the brittle and spit out the peanuts. I will spit out the nuts in ice cream and I do not get nuts on a sundae. I have also been known to uh, suck the chocolate off of peanut M&M's and give someone else the peanuts! Okay. In my defense I was like 6 or 7 and I didn't know at the time how gross that was. But - this is how I know the depth of the love my sister has for me! Again, I'm so sorry for doing that to you!
It's a texture thing. It's a crunch thing. It's a teeth thing. I don't like the unexpected crunch. I don't like the chewed up nut paste. I must have strangely shaped teeth as the nuts ALWAYS get stuck in my teeth and I HATE picking them out.
Once in a great while, I'll have a Snickers bar, maybe a Baby Ruth and I do eat peanut butter. Just please, no nuts.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Likes: Coffee
Coffee is wonderful!
Perfectly roasted, brown little beans...have you ever eaten a chocolate covered coffee bean?
I love coffee - I used to steal sips of my mom's coffee any chance I had. She drank hers with just a little milk. When she found out I was sipping she bought me coffee flavored candies - Coffee Nips, actually. She always said "coffee stunts your growth - look what happened to me!" But, my coffee obsession started honest enough. It runs in the family.
One of my favorite memories of my Grandpa Nolff - my mom's dad is of him sitting at the end of their kitchen table having coffee in his white cup with the blue stripe - it was a heavy cup and there was only one but, I remember him adding his sugar and then with his three remaining fingers he'd hold the spoon and stir "Tink, tink, tink", the spoon on the sides of that old mug. Grandma made coffee in an old percolator on the stove, and as kids, we were allowed to drink water or coffee.
My grandparents are both passed on but, I do miss the smell of coffee percolating in Grandma's kitchen. There is no other way to brew coffee with that same aroma. Once in great while I'll find that smell of Grandma's kitchen on a cold winter morning. We used to spend the night on the farm once in a while but, staying in winter was my favorite! We all slept upstairs - except Grandma, she had her own room off the kitchen and we weren't allowed in it! Grandpa slept upstairs too and had his bedroom on the left, the girls room was on the right. If you got up in the night, you might see a tiny orange glow from Grandpa's bed, he sometimes would wake up and smoke a cigarette in the night. He didn't say much, he'd just kind of grunt and we'd say "Just going to the pot.", and he'd grunt again. We'd always check out the ashtray and find all these cigarettes with a burned filter - he'd lit the wrong end in the night. Lucky he didn't burn the house down!
The mornings there were the best! We always, always tried to get up and downstairs before Grandpa went out to feed the horses. I remember waking up, sniffing the air for his cigarettes and coffee - if you didn't smell either of them fresh - you might have a chance! I don't know why we didn't check his bed - his room was wide open but, we'd race down the stairs - bust through the door, and you better catch it before it banged on the wall - or you'd be sure to get it from Grandma, round the corner and through the living room to see the kitchen light was on and there he was sitting in his chair with that spoon in his cup "tink, tink, tink". And he'd say "Coffee's on. I'll finish this cup and go feed, hurry up, get dressed if you're commin' along." Talk about disappointment! Sometimes, I went out to feed with him, sometimes not. I liked the smell of the hay on a cold morning mixing with the crystals from your breath and watching that little man and his white Santa Claus beard hauling bales of hay to feed his big horses. He always let me feed them their oats.
He was a man of few words. He spoke to us kids mostly in 'hmm', 'uh-huh', 'yeah' and occasionally a "git the hell outta there dammit!' but, he was gentle and he was kind. I loved when he'd pour us a little cup of coffee with a lot of sugar and a lot of cream after coming in from the barn. My mom would always say "Dad!" and he'd chuckle and put the cup in front of us anyway - "Kids gotta get warm on the inside 'Eeen!". He was a hard working man and he was a tough man. He was a good man with a heart of pure gold. He passed away the fall after I graduated high school and Grandma's kitchen was never the same.
No matter how old I grow to be, I'll always remember his half smile when we'd come in the door while he stirred his coffee "tink, tink, tink".
Perfectly roasted, brown little beans...have you ever eaten a chocolate covered coffee bean?
I love coffee - I used to steal sips of my mom's coffee any chance I had. She drank hers with just a little milk. When she found out I was sipping she bought me coffee flavored candies - Coffee Nips, actually. She always said "coffee stunts your growth - look what happened to me!" But, my coffee obsession started honest enough. It runs in the family.
One of my favorite memories of my Grandpa Nolff - my mom's dad is of him sitting at the end of their kitchen table having coffee in his white cup with the blue stripe - it was a heavy cup and there was only one but, I remember him adding his sugar and then with his three remaining fingers he'd hold the spoon and stir "Tink, tink, tink", the spoon on the sides of that old mug. Grandma made coffee in an old percolator on the stove, and as kids, we were allowed to drink water or coffee.
My grandparents are both passed on but, I do miss the smell of coffee percolating in Grandma's kitchen. There is no other way to brew coffee with that same aroma. Once in great while I'll find that smell of Grandma's kitchen on a cold winter morning. We used to spend the night on the farm once in a while but, staying in winter was my favorite! We all slept upstairs - except Grandma, she had her own room off the kitchen and we weren't allowed in it! Grandpa slept upstairs too and had his bedroom on the left, the girls room was on the right. If you got up in the night, you might see a tiny orange glow from Grandpa's bed, he sometimes would wake up and smoke a cigarette in the night. He didn't say much, he'd just kind of grunt and we'd say "Just going to the pot.", and he'd grunt again. We'd always check out the ashtray and find all these cigarettes with a burned filter - he'd lit the wrong end in the night. Lucky he didn't burn the house down!
The mornings there were the best! We always, always tried to get up and downstairs before Grandpa went out to feed the horses. I remember waking up, sniffing the air for his cigarettes and coffee - if you didn't smell either of them fresh - you might have a chance! I don't know why we didn't check his bed - his room was wide open but, we'd race down the stairs - bust through the door, and you better catch it before it banged on the wall - or you'd be sure to get it from Grandma, round the corner and through the living room to see the kitchen light was on and there he was sitting in his chair with that spoon in his cup "tink, tink, tink". And he'd say "Coffee's on. I'll finish this cup and go feed, hurry up, get dressed if you're commin' along." Talk about disappointment! Sometimes, I went out to feed with him, sometimes not. I liked the smell of the hay on a cold morning mixing with the crystals from your breath and watching that little man and his white Santa Claus beard hauling bales of hay to feed his big horses. He always let me feed them their oats.
He was a man of few words. He spoke to us kids mostly in 'hmm', 'uh-huh', 'yeah' and occasionally a "git the hell outta there dammit!' but, he was gentle and he was kind. I loved when he'd pour us a little cup of coffee with a lot of sugar and a lot of cream after coming in from the barn. My mom would always say "Dad!" and he'd chuckle and put the cup in front of us anyway - "Kids gotta get warm on the inside 'Eeen!". He was a hard working man and he was a tough man. He was a good man with a heart of pure gold. He passed away the fall after I graduated high school and Grandma's kitchen was never the same.
No matter how old I grow to be, I'll always remember his half smile when we'd come in the door while he stirred his coffee "tink, tink, tink".
Monday, November 12, 2012
Bubble, Bubble, toil and trouble....
I feel like I'm getting too serious again. Kind of uptight. Not like, skirt and pantyhose with a matching cardigan uptight but, more like 'is that all you do is sit around and brood over everything' uptight. I am kind of uptight but, I do some really dumb shit and once in awhile it's worth sharing.
A few days after my meeting with the psychotic psychic, I started reading this book, The Psychic Housewives' Handbook and one of the first exercises in this book is to take your worries, your hurts and to list them out on scraps of paper and put them in a bowl.
Okay - I have to give you some background here. Before I started this exercise, I had happened across this article on phases of the moon. And I knew that the moon was about to change phases - at about 8:00 that night actually, the night I was doing this exercise. If I didn't do this exercise before 8 PM - I would be giving my worries and my hurts to the moon as wishes, rather than relief. I wanted to get rid of this junk, not bring it back onto myself. I had to get this done and now! Make sense?
I don't normally follow phases of the moon - I just happened to catch this tidbit. Or did I???
So, I have all these business cards leftover from my soap making and I thought, oh those would be PERFECT to write all of these 'uglies' on! So I did. Me, a blue Sharpie and a stack of cards, went to work. Thirty-three cards I wrote out. 33! Things from money, to Jacob's teeth, to finding the right Christmas gifts - I wrote them all down.
It was raining that day - so it was a perfect time to write it but, not so perfect for the next step.
I had to burn these cards. I had to watch my worries go up in smoke but, it's raining. What could I burn them in? Aha! I had an old Dutch oven thing in the basement from my grandma's farm. Grandpa even put a new handle on it so it could hang over the fire. (You know? my Grandma was Hungarian - they're rumored to be gypsies) Perfect!
I get back upstairs from finding and de-cobwebing this pot and I remember it's raining outside. I can't do this out back, there's no cover, I'll get soaked and they won't burn. I can't burn them in the garage - to much gasoline in there. The front porch? Perfect!
I do have to add - I believe I was thinking this stuff in my head but, I was more likely talking out loud, to myself.
I head out to the front porch with my pot, which just so happens to look like a small cauldron, thanks Gram, my cards, and the grill lighter to burn these babies only it's so windy that my torch keeps getting blown out and these damn cards are so thick, I can't keep them burning. I grab a candle. A red one - blood red actually, to light instead of the grill torch. I was also quite cold so I had on my big, black long winter coat with a hood up and I'm standing over this mini cauldron burning papers with a blood red candle on my front porch. Are you seeing this? Remember, my lips are moving because I'm talking to myself...
After an eternity trying to turn these cards into ash, I finally succeed. I worked at this for like an hour. The next step was to add water to the ashes and well, what better than rainwater? And I left the cauldron on the stoop to collect some rainwater in the ash. I blew out my candle and went back in.
About 20 minutes or so later, I come back to complete what my neighbors must be thinking is the oddest damn ritual they have ever witnessed. I take my little cauldron and go walking out into the yard dumping the ashwater into the grass sending all of my troubles back into the universe washing myself clean of them. Still talking out loud.
I rinsed out the pot and heading back in for the night feeling a little lighter, a little refreshed. I even had a bit of a bounce in my step. I gave all my worries to God - to the Universe. I got back in, took my coat off, shut the door, sat down and picked up the book again before I realized what I had done, what my neighbors and anyone driving by for that matter, had witnessed. At one point, I do remember seeing a sheriff and even waving to a few people I knew. I called Jeremy at work and reported the witch sighting in our front yard walking around, talking to herself, dumping dirty water from a cauldron into the neighbor's grass and tried not to die from embarrassment. Aw...hell, what's a little spell or two going to hurt?
A few days after my meeting with the psychotic psychic, I started reading this book, The Psychic Housewives' Handbook and one of the first exercises in this book is to take your worries, your hurts and to list them out on scraps of paper and put them in a bowl.
Okay - I have to give you some background here. Before I started this exercise, I had happened across this article on phases of the moon. And I knew that the moon was about to change phases - at about 8:00 that night actually, the night I was doing this exercise. If I didn't do this exercise before 8 PM - I would be giving my worries and my hurts to the moon as wishes, rather than relief. I wanted to get rid of this junk, not bring it back onto myself. I had to get this done and now! Make sense?
I don't normally follow phases of the moon - I just happened to catch this tidbit. Or did I???
So, I have all these business cards leftover from my soap making and I thought, oh those would be PERFECT to write all of these 'uglies' on! So I did. Me, a blue Sharpie and a stack of cards, went to work. Thirty-three cards I wrote out. 33! Things from money, to Jacob's teeth, to finding the right Christmas gifts - I wrote them all down.
It was raining that day - so it was a perfect time to write it but, not so perfect for the next step.
I had to burn these cards. I had to watch my worries go up in smoke but, it's raining. What could I burn them in? Aha! I had an old Dutch oven thing in the basement from my grandma's farm. Grandpa even put a new handle on it so it could hang over the fire. (You know? my Grandma was Hungarian - they're rumored to be gypsies) Perfect!
I get back upstairs from finding and de-cobwebing this pot and I remember it's raining outside. I can't do this out back, there's no cover, I'll get soaked and they won't burn. I can't burn them in the garage - to much gasoline in there. The front porch? Perfect!
I do have to add - I believe I was thinking this stuff in my head but, I was more likely talking out loud, to myself.
I head out to the front porch with my pot, which just so happens to look like a small cauldron, thanks Gram, my cards, and the grill lighter to burn these babies only it's so windy that my torch keeps getting blown out and these damn cards are so thick, I can't keep them burning. I grab a candle. A red one - blood red actually, to light instead of the grill torch. I was also quite cold so I had on my big, black long winter coat with a hood up and I'm standing over this mini cauldron burning papers with a blood red candle on my front porch. Are you seeing this? Remember, my lips are moving because I'm talking to myself...
After an eternity trying to turn these cards into ash, I finally succeed. I worked at this for like an hour. The next step was to add water to the ashes and well, what better than rainwater? And I left the cauldron on the stoop to collect some rainwater in the ash. I blew out my candle and went back in.
About 20 minutes or so later, I come back to complete what my neighbors must be thinking is the oddest damn ritual they have ever witnessed. I take my little cauldron and go walking out into the yard dumping the ashwater into the grass sending all of my troubles back into the universe washing myself clean of them. Still talking out loud.
I rinsed out the pot and heading back in for the night feeling a little lighter, a little refreshed. I even had a bit of a bounce in my step. I gave all my worries to God - to the Universe. I got back in, took my coat off, shut the door, sat down and picked up the book again before I realized what I had done, what my neighbors and anyone driving by for that matter, had witnessed. At one point, I do remember seeing a sheriff and even waving to a few people I knew. I called Jeremy at work and reported the witch sighting in our front yard walking around, talking to herself, dumping dirty water from a cauldron into the neighbor's grass and tried not to die from embarrassment. Aw...hell, what's a little spell or two going to hurt?
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Hello, my name is Gail. I am a hermit
We all wear so many hats. Think about all of your hats a minute...
Me? I like to cook. I like to read. I like to be with Jacob. I'm a sister. I'm a daughter. I'm a wife, a mother, a friend. I'm a homeowner, a dog lover. I'm a Lutheran. I am an employee. I'm a decision maker. I'm up north, small town and close knit. I'm loud, opinionated, stubborn and extremely detailed. I'm a planner and a doer. And the list goes on.
I have always been more of a loner. It's always been a joke with my sister and my mom "if you didn't have your nose buried in a book". I never felt like I fit in at home or at school. I was always trying to catch up to my sisters. And friends were hard - they didn't read! And when I did make friends it was tough because I don't like places that are busy - too many people. I don't go to concerts or festivals or popular bars/restaurants. Nix on the sporting events (I can talk myself into a Cardinals game - don't worry). Thankfully, I'm not much interested in those things, in being with all the people. Imagine radio static - like when you can't quite tune in the station - that is me in a crowd of people. I can't clear out that static.
As I'm getting older, I don't like to drive as much. I spend an hour on the road every day. That's 5 hours a week. I will drive to a bigger city if I'm confident in where I'm going otherwise, I won't go. I'll drive up to Manistee but, to go there and back in one day is too much for me. It's also hard with Jacob - he thinks I can look at everything he wants when he wants yet drive all at the same time!
I am a hermit. I am perfectly content to be at home with my books. Mmmm...books. I love my home. Everything that I love is inside of it (minus my Lake Michigan). I can be myself here. I can be at my best. Or my worst. I can be who I want when I want. Or not. There is no static.
I like being a hermit. To only want to be in my own element and I do still venture out of it. Oddly, the last time I had a reading she'd said my home was going to become my sanctuary this year. Hmmm...
Don't tell my mom, ok? She made me promise I'd never be a stay in the house book reading hermit!
Me? I like to cook. I like to read. I like to be with Jacob. I'm a sister. I'm a daughter. I'm a wife, a mother, a friend. I'm a homeowner, a dog lover. I'm a Lutheran. I am an employee. I'm a decision maker. I'm up north, small town and close knit. I'm loud, opinionated, stubborn and extremely detailed. I'm a planner and a doer. And the list goes on.
I have always been more of a loner. It's always been a joke with my sister and my mom "if you didn't have your nose buried in a book". I never felt like I fit in at home or at school. I was always trying to catch up to my sisters. And friends were hard - they didn't read! And when I did make friends it was tough because I don't like places that are busy - too many people. I don't go to concerts or festivals or popular bars/restaurants. Nix on the sporting events (I can talk myself into a Cardinals game - don't worry). Thankfully, I'm not much interested in those things, in being with all the people. Imagine radio static - like when you can't quite tune in the station - that is me in a crowd of people. I can't clear out that static.
As I'm getting older, I don't like to drive as much. I spend an hour on the road every day. That's 5 hours a week. I will drive to a bigger city if I'm confident in where I'm going otherwise, I won't go. I'll drive up to Manistee but, to go there and back in one day is too much for me. It's also hard with Jacob - he thinks I can look at everything he wants when he wants yet drive all at the same time!
I am a hermit. I am perfectly content to be at home with my books. Mmmm...books. I love my home. Everything that I love is inside of it (minus my Lake Michigan). I can be myself here. I can be at my best. Or my worst. I can be who I want when I want. Or not. There is no static.
I like being a hermit. To only want to be in my own element and I do still venture out of it. Oddly, the last time I had a reading she'd said my home was going to become my sanctuary this year. Hmmm...
Don't tell my mom, ok? She made me promise I'd never be a stay in the house book reading hermit!
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