A little late night inspiration

It's nearly 10 pm and the dishes aren't done and we have no clean bottles so I can't just leave them until tomorrow.  I walked into the office collecting bottles and looking for my phone so I could listen to a podcast while I cleaned.  Then I got distracted and then I read this which is brilliant.

And per my m.o.(because I'm not sure all of you will click over and read it) I am going to quote a large portion of it here.  This is an open letter to all of the people (especially the mormons) on facebook who are posting about how the world is going to end now that Romney lost and how they are going to start stockpiling food (as a friend pointed out this could actually be just the economic push we need to really get the economy going. Well played Obama. Well played)


 Any time you hear that our country is getting more wicked, let me just let pictures tell you how I feel.
In this country, our moral issues are a little lopsided. We’re voting on this:

Instead of this:

Yep. We’re heading into moral decay alright. What, with our huge priorities in order. There’s nothing like two adults holding hands to bring in utter and awful devastation of children and the family. Oh wait…

Listen, I know money is tight. Times are rougher than you’ve seen for a while (unless you lived through the plague, the world wars, the great depression.) I’m not saying you have to be happy about it. Is ringing the bell of death knell really the way you want to react? Really?

That “end” you’re afraid of? The utter devastation and fear and poverty? The neighbor-stealing-your-food-at-gun-point sort of nightmare? Um, yeah. That’s already happened. It’s been happening for thousands of years.

You don’t want to lose your home or job. You’re worried about groceries and gas? Yeah, welcome to the rest of the world:

What? You don’t want to be like them? Me either, but I think we’re a ways from that.
Speaking of pride cycles, we might want to check ourselves if we start thinking that the end for us, looks like what 90% of the world looks like. We might want to see if maybe we’re a little spoiled if we watched those scary election results on our big screened TV’s in our warm homes and lamented on how “it’s all going to end.”

And for the rest of you who supported my candidate 

*****virtual high five*****

I can not wait to see what this man (and this amazing woman who is along side him) is/are going to do next! 

The Rent We Pay

The other day I posted this quote by Dianna Vreeland.  

"You Don't Have to Be Pretty. You don't owe prettiness to anyone. Not to your boyfriend/spouse/partner, not to your co-workers, especially not to random men on the street. You don't owe it to your mother, you don't owe it to your children, you don't owe it to civilization in general. Prettiness is not a rent you pay for occupying a space marked 'female.'


Your comments helped me wrap my brains around, and put into words the things that I had been thinking. 

There is no rent for occupying the space marked 'female.'  What I was failing to realize is that we're not renters.  We're all home owners of the spaces we occupy.  Female, male and even human are spaces that we have been given.  We can't be thrown out and there are no foreclosures. 

No rent required. 

What we do with those spaces is entirely up to us.  There are no requirements.  And thinking about it that way is particularly liberating because (to carry this metaphor a little too far) there's no landlord who will get mad if you paint the walls a funny color and all of the upgrades that you want to do are totally up to you.

If we chose to make our place pretty, that's our choice. It's nice to have a pretty place but I want to make sure that the space I occupy is thoughtful, kind,inspiring, makes other people feel welcome and appreciated and happens to be full of laughter and fun too.  

I'd love it to be pretty but pretty comes WAY down on the list.

So when is it appropriate?...

So when is it appropriate to put yourself on bed rest?  Tomorrow I'll be 3 weeks away from baby's arrival.  Does that seem too soon?

As my current body image is a little like this (but with smaller hoots {sad})

I think it might be time.

But first I have to finish a lesson for my church group about marriage and relationships.  Marriage and relationships and honest-to-goodness I look like this.

It's going to be awesome.  Mostly I think we'll talk about how the real secret to marital success is having separate bathrooms.  Nora Ephron said that.  Nora "Friggin' I was nominated for 3 academy awards for my romantic comedies including when Harry met Sally" Ephron people--if she doesn't know a thing or two about living happily ever after who does?

Maybe we should all pray to a higher power that I go into labor tomorrow and thus save my church group from any further romantic musings.

What Doesn't Kill You

I'm going to come clean right from the start.  I love bad pop music. Like really love it.  Like I have to sneak onto youtube all the time to figure out what songs I'm hearing on the radio.  I then listen to the song over and over and over again.  If I still love it I splurge and spend the $1.29 and add it to my own personal music library.

One of my favorite sources of new music is the gym.  My 2 favorite classes at the gym (here and here) (which if you have not tried out you should.  Do not use my current physique to judge the effectiveness of these classes.  They are incredible and I assure you, you are only 1 month away from actually seeing muscles in your arms) have a very pop-heavy soundtracks right now.  

Today the chest press track was this little number by Kelly Clarkson

Here are the lyrics for the chorus.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone
What doesn't kill you makes you fighter
Footsteps even lighter
Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause you're gone

Now, these lyrics seem very appropriate for chest presses.  What doesn't kill you in the chest press arena of life makes you stronger, but as I was hitting the third round I realized that I don't actually believe the saying "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."  I understand the sentiment behind the saying and I think there are lots of cases where we go through really hard things and consequently we are stronger when we come out of it.

But... the trouble is that that isn't always the case.  There are things that I have been through that have not made me stronger.  There are scars that I carry from dealing with relationships with other people that are still weak places--that will never be strong places. 

The other trouble I see comes when you turn it around.  If we believe that what doesn't kill us makes us stronger, we also believe that what we do to other people, no matter how terrible will eventually make them stronger--like we each have an excuse if we do something mean to other people because it will just make them stronger.

Maybe Hemmingway put it best. So let us be very very careful with one another.

The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.

Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms, 1929

So let us be very very careful with one another.

Well Done Sister Suffragette

As my amazing friend Frances reminded me on facebook this morning, it is 93 years today since the 19th amendment was brought to the senate and after a lengthy discussion it passed with 56 ayes and 25 nays giving women in the United States the right to vote.

There fight for women's suffrage was long and hard.  Women went to prison, they were beaten, had their children taken away and were left by their husbands all in order to ensure that women today would have the right to vote.  I am very grateful that they did.

Perhaps Walt Disney said it best; "well done, sister suffragette**."




** I do think it's worth noting that the greatest line of this song (and perhaps of any Disney song ever) is:
We're clearly soldiers in petticoats
And dauntless crusaders for women's votes
Though we adore men individually
We agree that as a group they're rather stupid 

Does Money Buy Happiness?

I read this great blog called The Frugal Girl (FG).  Her tagline is "cheerfully living on less" which I think pretty much sums up my life as a stay at home mom.  FG talks about reading with her kids and cooking meals at home and take-out date night and has really reasonable ideas about living frugally and simply.  I love her.  Her's is one of the few blogs written by someone I don't know that I read religiously.


Yesterday she posted a book review about this book.

I need to fess up and say that in all likelihood I will not read this book. I find books about saving money (along with books about parenting) could usually be summed up in a pamphlet.  Here is FG's insight on the book.


"All the Money in the World isn’t a typical personal finance or frugality book.  There are no chapters on coupons or index funds or IRAs.


Rather,...{All The Money in the World} is a look at the relationship between money and happiness and how we can spend and save our money in ways that are meaningful.

An interesting thing Vanderkam points out is that sometimes, the big-ticket items in our lives are the ones bringing us the least happiness (and vice versa).  For instance, it’s quite possible that you’d be happier living in a small home, buying $5 lattes every day than you’d be living in a “dream” home with no money for small extras."

I'd never thought about it in precisely those terms but I am in love with this idea.  The hubbs and I live in a little apartment.  When we first started out the search for living quarters in San Diego we set a budget that ranged from $1,400-2,1000 (try to pick your jaw up off the floor.  That's just what rent is in SoCal for a tiny little apartment.  We call it the Sunshine Tax).  We picked an apartment that was at the lower end of that range.  Last time we renewed our lease we did it for 2 years because we love our house.  And more than just loving our house we love having a little extra cash in our pockets.

I'd never realized the many ways that this makes our lives easier and happier but it does.  This week I was suddenly struck with a panic that Claire doesn't eat vegetables {at all} so I added all of these weird things to our grocery list hoping to entice her to eat them {for the record, 2-year olds love Nori (seaweed)}.  I didn't worry about it.  I blew the grocery budget but I knew there was money there for the blowing.  Same thing with this pregnancy and my craving for hamburgers.  We've been out to eat more frequently in the last 4 months than we have in our whole marriage.  

And here's the glory of it.  I don't stress about it.  I get to do that because we went for the apartment that was at the lower end of our budget and we drive cars that are old and crappy. 

And those 69 cent diet cokes from McDonalds that I still buy at lest twice a week?  Even cheaper than a latte and oh the joy they bring.

I wasn't there for the weeds

Henry Eyring was a really famous Chemist who won the national medal of science.  He died of cancer in 1981. Toward the end of his life, when he was in a lot of pain from his disease, he lead a group of volunteers to weed a huge field of onions in a charity farm.  People who were there that day said he scooted along the rows patting people on the back and making friendly comments.  He laughed and had a great time but was in so much pain that he couldn't stand for long periods of time.

When they were done with the weeding they went into the farmhouse.  One of the workers looked at them and said, "you didn't just weed that field did you?  It was sprayed yesterday.  All of those weeds were going to die anyway."

When Henry was telling the story to his family he laughed and hooted and told everyone how hilarious it was. His son turned to him and said, "Dad, you can really be taking it that lightly.  You did a lot of work and you were in a lot of pain and it was all wasted."

Henry looked at his son and said, "Hal, I wasn't there for the weeds."

I read that story in college and loved it.  I thought it was a lovely idea.


I did not know the deep and significant meaning that "Hal, I wasn't there for the weeds" would play in my life.  I have to constantly remind myself why I am doing what I am doing.

So, let's say you're dying Easter eggs and all 12 of yours end of cracked due to them being dropped in dye cups and they all end up a lovely shade of brown because the dyer insists that they each go in every cup.  As a somewhat accomplished egg dyer yourself it might be easy to get upset if don't remember that you're not there for the eggs.

If you're at the world-renown San Diego Zoo and you spend 90% of your time hanging from banisters and walking along curbs it's easy to get frustrated and insist that you hurry on your way in an angry voice if you don't remember that you're not there for the animals.

Here's to a lovely weekend.  Let's hope we can all remember that we're not here for the weeds.

Questions, Questions, Questions

I've been reading this book by Frances Kuffel.  She wrote a book a couple of years ago that I just loved called Passing for Thin.  Eating Ice Cream with my Dog is her second book and I didn't like it as well.  It was still interesting and I finished it.

Frances has lost more than half her body weight by going to overeaters anonymous (OA).  Her books talk about the physical aspects of losing weight and the emotional side too.  In a voyeuristic kind of way I am intrigued by the information given about OA.

Every night Frances answers the following questions to her sponsor.

"What did I eat today? What exercise did I have today? wheat did I do today that I like and respect myself for? (or how did I behave better than I felt?) What project was my priority for today and how much progress did I make on it? What do I plan to do next? What did I do for someone else today? What did I do for myself today? What happened today that I enjoyed and appreciated that had nothing to do with me? What boundaries did I honor? Where did I have problems today? What am proudest of today? On a scale of one to ten, how much close interaction did I have with people today? What made me feel feminine today? What made me feel loved and appreciated today? What will I eat tomorrow?"

Okay.  Now aside from the eating questions (what, you're saying you didn't eat an entire candy bar today?) and some of the ones about boundaries the idea of answering those questions is appealing to someone who spends her days looking after a toddler.

What project was my priority for today and  how much progress did I make on it?  I wanted to get the bedroom cleaned up and to take the goodwill pile to the goodwill.  I bagged it up and separated it out but didn't actually deliver it.  And I put away all of the laundry for good measure.

What happened today that I enjoyed and appreciated that had nothing to do with me?  Today Claire went to the beach without me.  I had a doctor's appointment so she went to the beach with her friends Maggie and Jane.  I hear she had a wonderful time.  I am so pleased that she had fun but there is a small part of my heart that is sad that she didn't need me at all.  I was reading on the couch looking out for her when she got back and when I saw her little pink tutu-ed body out the window as she got out the car my heart did a little leap inside.

I won't bore you with the answers to all of the questions (that would make for a very long blog post) but I did think that if I took the time each night to answer all of those questions it might be a little easier to remember that my life has great meaning.

What about you? What are you proudest of today? What made you feel loved and appreciated?

And the nice thing about these questions is that you don't have to fess up that you took a nap on the couch while your living room looked like this.

Thirty, Flirty and Thriving

Yesterday I read a blog post written by someone who is turning 30 this year.  She is worried about aging and suddenly being old and not in touch anymore.  I have a hard time connecting with the sentiment.  Maybe you should ask me when I'm 40 and the sun spots on my hands, which are just now starting to appear, are dark and  hard to disguise but I have loved getting older.  When I turned 30 I was still working and I remember thinking that I had made a huge step professionally and finally people would start to take me more seriously.  That suddenly I wasn't just a recent college graduate but someone with work experience and a little bit of time under my belt.

The blog writer lamenting turning 30 asked if she could wear clothes from Forever 21 and H&M (don't be ridiculous--of course) and if she could still wear big flowery head bands (really?  That is a ridiculous question because of course you should NEVER do this no matter your age).

In order to prove that being 30 is even better than being 20 I have spent the last 30 minutes compiling picture evidence.  Here you go.

20 is cute and fun.

But 30.  30 is something even better.

It's the most.....wonderful time of the year?

Do you ever feel like you're standing on the precipice of your own life?  Looking down into a canyon of activity that is deep and swirling and and terrifying and lovely?


That's how I feel about the holidays.  This two-hour nap time that I am sitting in right now (watching a movie and typing and emailing) is a small quiet window and looking out from it I can see the next two hectic weeks.  


Today I dropped off my Brother-in-law at the train station. He spent the Thanksgiving weekend with us, down from Palo Alto.  He was a wonderful guest and Claire loves him.  


Every night this week has plans.  One of my favorite cousins will be visiting with her 4 kids for the weekend (and we are so excited to see them.  Her husband is one of the hubbs' favorite people and the only person in my family who loves sports as much as he does) and next week I make a quick trip to Utah for the unveiling of the book that my mom and her painting group are putting together.  In between those events we will be decorating a tree, reading stories, making dinner and trying to figure out what to get the hubbs for Christmas (I am taking suggestions).




The frenzy is daunting but exciting (and will only be followed by another trip to Utah for Christmas and a family reunion Cruise in January).


Does anyone else feel like this about this time of year?  I love it, but sometimes just thinking about it makes me feel dizzy.

**********

And, in a total non sequitur* here is a Thanksgiving quote my mom read to me over the phone this morning.  And some pictures of the weekend

The Pilgrims made seven times more graves than huts.  No Americans have been more impoverished than these who, nevertheless, set aside a day of thanksgiving.  
~H.U. Westermayer




*I just had to use google to figure out how to spell sequitur.  Spell check didn't know what I was talking about but google did.  Google always knows what I'm talking about.

Ah.....Mr Shel Silverstein

There are days when this poem hits a little too close to home

*Someday I will tell the story of the time my sister met Shel Silverstein when she was a waitress on Martha's Vineyard.  There's cursing in the story...but only enough cursing to ensure that the interaction went down in the annuals of family history never to be forgotten.

A picture paints....

Do remember when cell phones were just cell phones?  They didn't have the internet or cameras or anything like that?  I remember being in high school or college and seeing a TV ad about a camera on a phone.  The man was showing a girl in a bar what she could use it for.  It mostly had to do with taking pictures of unattractive men and saying to her girlfriends, "I just found your new boyfriend."

I remember thinking the ad was crazy and there were just not enough moments in the world that would necessitate a camera on a phone.

Obviously my strength is not forecasting.

Sometimes at night, after Claire has gone to bed, I scroll through pictures of her and watch videos.  Looking at pictures of herself as a baby is one of Claire's all-time favorite activities.

Here are a couple of random shots from my phone.

She's a shoe girl.  

My little brother introduced me to the Chuck Norrism.
I texted this to him last week.
I'm still waiting for a response

I also texted this to my little brother.
Also still waiting for a response

World's scariest ad that's at the gym right now.
Have we really reached a point in society where that hair is supposed to
make us want to buy things?

Camera on a phone?  Brilliant.

What about you?  What's the best picture on your phone?

Dad, how can you hate the Colonel?

Lucky for me when I was in Junior High I committed about 100 movies to memory so I generally have a very dated, hilarious quote to go with any kind of situation.  Today's is maybe my best.  The year is 1993.....

Stuart Mackenzie: Oh, I hated the Colonel with is wee *beady* eyes, and that smug look on his face. "Oh, you're gonna buy my chicken! Ohhhhh!" 
Charlie Mackenzie: Dad, how can you hate "The Colonel"? 
Stuart Mackenzie: Because he puts an addictive chemical in his chicken to make ya crave it fortnightly, smartass! 

Around our house there is a similar love-hate situation.  And you know who I hate?  Elmo.  You may be thinking, how can you hate Elmo? And the answer is because the makers of Sesame Street must be spreading some kind of hypnotic, mind-altering, brainwashing propaganda.  I don't know what their aim is yet but I'm working on it.

A couple of months ago we received a second-hand Elmo counting book.  Okay, the truth is that we stole said book from my mother because it has a magna-doodle on the top of it. Claire loves it.  Within a week she was pointing at all of the characters and calling them by name.  We saw a board book at Target for a dollar and carried it around our whole trip.  She loves those little puppets.

Then I made one little mistake and suddenly my life is like a Thomas Hardy Novel and every day I pay for it.  I showed Claire a youtube video of Elmo singing with Big Bird and Snuffy.  Suddenly all day, every day Claire walks around crying "Melmo, melmo, melmo."


I give in all the time.
I know every nuance of this video.

What's a decade?

This past weekend was my ten-year college reunion.  I was very sad to not make it.  I loved college.  I loved the people I met, the things I learned, the person I became.  I credit Knox College with making me the person that I am today.

But this weekend, instead of visiting the glory that is Galesburg IL (Uncle Billy's Bakery--you were missed) I was in Salt Lake visiting my family.  I have a brother who lives abroad and he was in town so we headed to Salt Lake to see him (which was so fun and so worth it).

The 10 years out of college marker seems like a big one and even though I didn't attend the reunion I spent  lots of time this weekend thinking about how my life is different than it was 10 years ago.  And it's funny, in lots of ways it's better but there are some very specific ways that it is not.

Ways that being 32 is 100x better than being 22 
(some of these are hard to explain so bear with me)

• I am in an amazing, grown-up, committed relationship with someone I love.
• I have the most adorable baby on the whole planet.
• I am financially secure.
• I have retirement savings.
• I have learned to take care of my body.
• I am more patient.
• I am so much smarter, well-read and informed.
• I don't get riled up about things.  I remember road-rage being a real problem when I was young (as was driving too quickly) and these days I don't get too frustrated if people cut me off and I'm not normally in a big enough hurry to speed
• I make better, more thought-out decisions.
• I have lost some of what I am calling "the arrogance of youth." I used to be a little...overly confident.  It made me less aware of other people and what they were thinking.  It made it so that when I looked at situations I only looked at what was in it for me.  Losing that has made me more aware of other people.  It has made me kinder, less selfish and more able to connect with other people.
• I don't sweat as much of the small stuff

Ways that being 32 is harder than being 22

• Knees. I don't know if it's carrying a 25 lb baby up a flight of stairs multiple times every day or just age but my knees are not what they once were.  Being able to run on pavement seems like a dream of years past.
• Even though my body is 1/2 the size it was in college I am more self-conscious of my body.  I remember knowing that I was chubby and disliking that, and thinking life would be easier if I was thin but I don't remember being able to make a list a mile long of individual body-faults
• I have lost some of what I am calling "the arrogance of youth." This is on both lists. It's true that the loss of arrogance has made me a kinder and better person but it also has had a few bad side effects.  Sometimes when I am talking to other people I find myself thinking, "do I sound like a complete idiot?  Do I even make sense?"  That didn't used to happen.  

So what about you?  How is your life better than it was 10 years ago?  Or at 22? and how is it worse?

Here's to the mundane

This morning I read an article about Brian Crane who writes the comic strip Pickles in the hubbs' alumni magazine (don't judge--my OK Weekly hasn't arrived yet).  Crane didn't start writing comics until he was 40 and has now had 21 years of success and is one of the most wildly syndicated cartoonists of the day.

From the article, "Brian is an unassuming genial family man, married for nearly 40 years, but beneath that unassuming exterior is the quintessential cartoonist.  His mind records and stores seemingly inconsequential, but covertly funny, details of life for future use."

I have been thinking of that ever since.  I think that trait not only makes a successful cartoonist but a good blogger.  It's something that I need to work on.  I'm not just looking for the funny details of life, but the meaningful, the thought-provoking and the charming.

I'm working on it.  I haven't felt like I have that memory these days.  My memory seems full of other things but I am dedicated to making space.

So here's to a mundane and amusing future.

When You've Got it, You've Got it

While I was home I spent some time working in my dad's office. For his birthday this year I changed some of his old LPs to MP3s.  While I was digging through his things (a girl has to do something while waiting for those files to convert). I found this picture of my older sister, my dad and me.

I love everything about it. I love the smiles, the attitude, the clothes (look at those socks with the hearts on them), the hair....but mostly I just love the people (and the pizazzy Tyra pose I'm striking).   

Sometimes I long for a time when I was that self confident and assured while picture taking.  These days I tend to spend my time taking pictures worrying that my tummy looks big or my hair looks frizzy.  I'd like to take a lesson from my 4-year-old self--just throw out your hips and stare down the camera and everything else will work out fine. 

*Also, if any of you are still getting a malware warning please let me know.  I think I took care of the problem but my computer skills are so basic that I can never be sure.

To Dream the Impossible Dream

Last Friday on a family bike ride I got to dreaming--dreaming of being a nurse.  The most medical knowledge I can claim is that I trained to be an EMT in college (but never took the test to get licensed) but I love the idea of medicine.  For years I thought that I wanted to be a doctor (until I learned what really happens at medical school and I decided that I didn't have the self esteem to survive that) so instead of studying people I studied plants. I love plants too.

If I knew where my life would be today 10 years ago I would have studied to be a nurse. (Don't take me too seriously because a year ago I was seriously thinking of getting a PhD in sociology and the year before that I was thinking that I really wanted an MBA.)  I would work one or two days a week when my kids were little then, when they were grown and in school full time, I would study to be an nurse anesthetist.  Last week the hubbs and I started talking about this little dream.  One of the best things about the hubbs is that he loves to plan.  So when he had a little down-time at work on Friday he looked up nurse anethetist programs for me (turns out there are 2 in LA) and as we took family bike ride around the lake we talked about moving to Oceanside so that I could commute and when we came home we looked up nursing programs and looked into costs and planned numbers of years in school and how many would be needed to qualify for the program.  It was thrilling. 

Thoughts of nursing and danced in my head for days and are still lingering.  I don't know if I will ever get a nursing degree (I really would love one) but the whole experience reminded me of the joy there is in dreaming. I love thinking of things to do and envisioning what a life could be like.  The life I have now has lots of space for one kind of dream.  The dream that has a couple of kids and in the mornings we walk to school.  I come home and bake, clean, garden, lunch with the ladies.  I write darling and clever content for a blog that produces income (ahhhh, my 6 month old dream of making money while blogging.......) and walk back to pick up my kidlets from school in the afternoon.  In my mommy dreams where we are rich there is also space for a nanny who watches the kids 2 days a week while I volunteer for Special Olympics or The Red Cross. 

But sometimes I miss professional dreams.  I miss dreams where the work I do is measurable and there is visible progress.  If you pass one nursing class you move on to the next class.  If I have a great parenting moment there's no place I move to--still parenting.  The progress of the work I do now will only really be seen when Claire is grown.  I'll know I'm a good parent when I see the way she interacts with others, when I see her 'mother' other people.

So maybe I'll see you in anatomy class....

 

Do I still get to call myself a feminist?

Last week while parusing facebook I saw this.  It's an ad for The Body Shop (obviously).  I guess Matel sued and the ad was taken down before it was even distributed.

I wanted to love this ad.  I wanted to feel like I felt with the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty.

But I didn't.  I didn't feel empowered.  I didn't feel like I was given tools to deal with the pressures that society puts on me and I put on myself.  I almost felt like they were poking fun.  Is it the over sexualized pose? the frizzy hair? the eyes?  I just don't know.  It could be my own prejudices coming out (we've talked before about my food and body issues) but I don't know why we have to pull our image of sexuality from a woman (of any shape or size) with pouty lips, ratted hair and a seductive stance.  It just feels like that woman is trying to be what men think is sexy.  

I find the women in the Dove ads about 100x more sexy than the come-hither pose of The Body Shop.

Is is just me?  Do I have to take feminist off of the list of words I use to describe myself?


**Due to an overwhelming response we will not be reading American Pastoral for July.  Lisa described it by saying "American Pastoral is a DARK book. There are scenes that still haunt me a decade after reading it."  I'm not sure I'm up to that after March.  So let's take a break and read something that isn't going to leave us losing faith in humanity. Let's step away from the Pulitzer Prize winners and read Where the Mountain Meets the Moon by Grace Lin which Lisa also recommends.

The Holy Lent and Fast: Part II

For Lent this year, instead of giving up sugar and then binging on a million sugary treats come Easter morning I decided to give up something a little more meaningful.  I gave up the mean Chinese mother, Po, who lives in my head (you can read that post here). The experiment went really well and though I wasn't 100% faithful I was mostly faithful. 

Like when I had a lady-type leak at the gym (which was humiliating and here I am documenting it for the whole internet) Po told me that everyone saw it and that I needed to get a new gym because who could forget that and everyone was REALLY grossed out.  My nice, well-rounded mother (who still doesn't have a name but I am taking suggestions) told me that it was embarrassing but that it happens to lots of people.  She reminded me that most of the women there had had it happen at some point in their lives and most of the men there were married to or dating someone who had had it happen.  She also told me that I didn't need to get a new gym and it just wasn't that big of a deal.

There was one week during Lent that I didn't get to the gym even once and I ate horribly (I will only say that cupcakes I made for Claire's birthday were not only cute but there were delicious) but I did a great job of not beating myself up for it. Not listening to Po helped me not worry about getting everything done right now. I did a better job of saying, "here's where I'm going to start and even if it's not perfect, it's where I'm going to start." 

Documenting my relationship with Po has also helped me to realize that everyone has a Po of their very own.  Even the hubbs has said to me since, "my Po said something like...." talking about the way he felt when something didn't turn out quite right at work. Other people who read this blog have mentioned the same thing in conversation--we are all dealing with an immature, scathing, name-calling voice in our heads (or at least, I think most thoughtful people are).  When I was explaining my Lent sacrifice to some friends I realized that I would pop a top if a parent ever addressed Claire the way I was addressing myself.  I should be just as protective of myself as I am of my daughter

I've liked dealing with an internal mother who is a little more mature, who can recognize the hard things but who doesn't get too caught up, who realizes that she is very blessed and who tries to be thankful and happy. I think I'll keep her. Like that year I gave up meat for Lent and then was a vegetarian for the next 6 years.

**The hubbs is coming home on Friday just in time for dinner after a week of being away from us.  I am taking suggestions as to what to prepare for his homecoming feast....anyone? ...anyone? Favorite welcome home dinner?