Where have you been?

I know that one of my resolutions for the "real" New Year was to be better about posting, and I am trying. However, I have to admit that I have been up to other things. Like making the stark (and ugly) wall behind the cabinets in the dining room into a magnetic chalkboard to keep the kids occupied (and near, but out of, the kitchen). Pictures and discussion of this project to come someday soon...

What has been really cool since I got back from my retreat is that I have felt inspired again. I've been reading (finished a whole book and started another, shock-and-surprise!), organizing, and even doing projects. We've rearranged the rooms in the house, creating a playroom, an adult room, a craft space, and a nursery for Toby. I did the chalkboard project from start to finish. I've got several projects in the works, and I am actually finding the time to do them, and to *enjoy* them.

For today, I am taking inventory of these projects that are in the pipeline, the crafty ones I have found online anyway, and thought I would share my these aspirations (and also give myself a great list to reference when I am feeling lost in the shuffle).

Making Felt Play Food. Thanks to Amy S. for passing this great reference along, and making some prototypes to get me inspired! (I found your lost strawberry, by the way. Henry was trying to eat it this morning.)

Learning to Quilt. This picnic blanket looks like an excellent beginner project. And now I hang out with a very clever mama who knows how to properly quilt, so I will be hitting her up for lessons. (Surprise, Meaghan! I forgot to mention that, huh?)

Make this play mail bag. It's awesome.

Make something fun for Toby. This soft counting book is fantastic, and I think Henry might even get into helping Toby learn numbers.

Make my own grocery/gift/tote bags. Very helpful tutorials and patterns can be found here and here. I'm pretty excited, both because these bags will be fairly easy and quick projects I can manage as I get better at sewing AND because they will be very, very cool.

Make something cute for me. I like this little pin jar, and I am going to make it for myself. If it works out, all the seamstresses I know may be getting one as a gift this year. Goodness knows we have plenty of baby food jars around this place!

I have a couple of very *very* cool projects that I am *super* excited about, but I don't want to post about them precisely because they are going to be gifts. That is, they will be gifts if I can get it together before December...

I'm not trying to be judgmental, but...

There are three people that have me completely weirded out. I kind of desperately want to stop them and say, "What the heck?!!" but in two of the three cases, that will definitely never happen, and it's unlikely in the third. So here's my beef:

Case #1: The walking lady

Since I moved to Gainesville almost seven years ago, I constantly see this woman walking around all over town. She is short and slight, always well-dressed in long sleeves, pants, boots, a hat, sunglasses, and a backpack. She is most certainly not homeless. I usually see her on the west side of town, walking around between larger shopping areas. If you are familiar with Gainesville, however, you'll know that walking around the west side of town is unheard of because things are miles and miles apart.

At first I kind of assumed that she had cancer, and was doing a lot of healthy exercising. I have no idea if she DOES have hair, but you can't see it under her hat. She's always kind of smiling, and has a spring in her step, so I always figured she was doing something healthy and positive for herself. Then I started to think that she was anorexic, because she is very, very thin. And when I say I see her walking all the time, I mean all the time. I'd see her at 8am, I'd see her at noon, then run into her again at 5. These sightings are not rare; I'd say I saw her every day when I lived and/or worked out that way, and now see her about every third time I get over there for an errand.

I'm completely nosy, and have no reason to make any of the assumptions about her that I do, but there it is.

Case #2: The walking man

There is a guy who I am a little worried about. Whenever it is above 70 degrees out, I see him walking my neighborhood. He's all dressed in a sweatsuit, hood up, and seems to even be wearing some kind of wrap beneath the sweats (you can see it on his hands to his fingers). When I say "above 70 degrees), I mean middle of the afternoon heat in Gainesville - he's out walking all wrapped up. Again, I suspect anorexia. Or boxing. And again, I want to ask, but never will.

Case #3: Dude walking across my lawn, every damn day

I know that we do not keep our lawn tidy and neat, neat and tidy, and we don't have a fence. I know that we live on a corner lot, which means that cutting across our lawn cuts off the extra 50 feet you have to walk if you go to the corner. But dude, what the heck? You have to notice that we are sitting inside, we have a HUGE WINDOW in the front of our house. Henry and I sit there and watch you every day.

How does one tell a guy walking across your lawn that he is being a jerk? Bret doesn't think it's a big deal, but then he saw the guy do it today, and agreed that it's weird. In this case, I may have to say something, but I have no idea how that conversation will go... any thoughts for me?

My New Year

My 2010 is starting today.

I just got the time to be still and think about what things I want to change in the new year, so my resolutions start now. Or tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow.

I could make very specific goals (I do have a few of those in the back pocket), but I prefer the top two lofty ideas I came up with while I was in my little bubble this weekend.

1. Practice being present.
Yes, this is kind of cheesy, but suck it. I've been ridiculously stressed out, and freaked out, about all the things falling through the cracks, and all the scary possibilities that loom in the potential futures. Anxiety begets anxiety, and it has, quite frankly, paralyzed me in many ways. I could make my resolution getting back into yoga, because the practice of presence was precisely what had me hooked on it years ago, but it's not just yoga. My goal is, in fact, to bring myself into the moment and enjoy the process, rather than just focusing on an end and worrying about getting there.

2. Patience.
I need more of it, pretty much all the time. When Henry was a tiny baby, I remember being more patient than I ever imagined I could be. (I have no idea if I was delusional, or even if I am just remembering it wrong. The chances of either being true are excellent.) I have not found that same well of patience since Toby's birth, and have found myself looking back over a day or a week, wishing I had been more patient and not acted as I did. I'm not yet sure how to remind myself to find patience in the moment, and I'm not getting a tattoo (I love Christine's though).

I figure that by actively incorporating presence and patience into my life, I will also be more attentive and kind, and really enjoy the pure love of my family. I'm also hoping to focus more attention on my life, and do some of the little things for myself and my family that I have been wanting to do for ages. (See back pocket list for details.) It will mean turning off the TV and computer more, buying less, creating more things from scratch, and learning how to incorporate the kids into activities like cooking, cleaning, and gardening. All of this will be good for all of us.

So, Happy New Year to me! I'll let you know how it's going.

And, break!

It is probably painfully obvious from my posts alone, and I assure you that if you had a face to face conversation with me there would be no doubt: I am exhausted.

I have been very up front about the fact that I have found two kids beyond hard to manage, and that I don't get nearly enough sleep to function as a human being. Long-term sleep deprivation screws with you in ways you can't imagine, and I fear I may never get my brain back.

Let me break it down for you: I'm generally a very smart person, and I have my poop in a group. Not perfection, but together. These days, here is the scenario: I walk into the grocery store to buy three things (aluminum foil, kale, and red lentils). We desperately need the aluminum foil and I'm thinking of making soup for dinner. While in the store, I get a cookie for Henry, because that is what we do at the grocery store. I pick up two of the items on the list (the lentils and the kale), but remember that cookie, oops. Apparently the cookie is a third thing in my new world. Not a chance I will think of that real third thing (remember that aluminum foil?) until I am on the way home, thinking about how smart I was to go ahead and go to the store before lunch so that while the kids nap I can bake those sweet potatoes after all since I have... oh wait, the aluminum foil.

This happens thirty times a day. No joke.

So this weekend, I am escaping from life. Call it a mental health leave, or whatever you want. Three nights in a hotel with a big, beautiful bed. No kids. No conversation. No responsibilities. No thinking. No reasoning. N.o.t.h.i.n.g. (Possibly some simple knitting math, but that is IT.)

I used to get a chance to do nothing every now and again. It wasn't for three days in a chunk, it was for a couple of hours here or there when Bret was working and I was home alone. Zone out. Knit. Be still. Read. Think about life or make lists or whatever, just time to myself for a little while. I can't even recall the last time I got to do this - I mean really DO NOTHING - and I am so excited about it.

I love my kids. I love my husband. I love my house.

And I will love it so much more freely when I get back Tuesday.

I'm just a college town kind of person.

I used to think of myself as a city person. A smaller city person, but definitely a city person.

I loved living in DC in college. I never, ever liked New York - it was always too big - even when I was young and spry and down for a party. I liked DC. Now I realize that it wasn't that it was the city, but rather that Georgetown was functionally a college town from which I could access a small city.

I have never been remotely a country person. I love growing food, but I love it in a garden. A farm, far from everything, would just be too much for me to handle. I also don't like livestock much, so the equation would be: me + farm = no way.

Recently I was thinking that I was, shudder, a suburban mom. I mean, I drive my kids around in a minivan. On a recent shopping trip I was gleeful when I realized that we could go to one strip mall, get out of the car one time, and hit three errands in the stroller! Grocery store for kale and garlic, check. Print shop, check. Liquor store, check. (Yes, I take my kids to the liquor store. Would you rather I leave them in the car? We needed whiskey.)

I had almost been sold on the strip mall, and surrendered to the dreaded suburbs, but then I realized: If we just had a few more of the traditional stores downtown, I could stick the kids in the stroller and do the same shopping walking from my house. Which would mean not having to get into the car. Which would be far better than even the strip mall in the suburbs!

I was beside myself with joy - not a suburban mom after all! Sure one strip mall trip worked out, but I was not sold. (And in my defense, it was raining that day. So the walking would have been a bit miserable.)

I like living in Gainesville because we have a downtown. I love living downtown. OK, so not everything is available, and since this is Florida we can't get rid of our cars just yet (blech for sprawl!) however, it is a college town. Biking and walking are normal here, and even if you do have to get in the car sometimes, nothing is really more than 15 minutes away. We get lectures. And shows. And experts in horticulture who are interested in teaching you things. And the University gives the town a center that really can't shift too terribly far, and has to be accessible to bikes and people on foot.

Yay for the college town. It's for me.

Cliford should be on Hoarders!

I have not seen many episodes of Clifford: The Big Red Dog. I am thankful for this, as given the few episodes I have seen, I have found the following things really grate on my last nerve:

1. The music. It is not cute or clever, just repetitive and clangy.

2. The name "Emily Elizabeth." Either name is adorable for a little girl. Neither is appropriate for a double-name because there are just too many syllables here.

3. The whole concept of a "big red dog" annoys me. The thought of a mutant dog, that is both technicolor and as big as a house is just plain creepy.

Now, in order to form these opinions, I did have to watch a few episodes with Henry, who began requesting Clifford once he got a DVD for Christmas. (I should note that said DVD is not living at our house, or even in our county, but does remain in our state, which I find unfortunate.)

Why this visceral reaction?

Clifford is a Hoarder.

He could be featured on A&E. He'd probably qualify for some special show since he has the mutant issues in addition to the compulsive hoarding.

It might be that I have been watching too much Hoarders, and have gotten a bit compulsive about analyzing my own relationship to junk as a result, but I was a little bit taken aback to have a kids' show openly enabling a hoarder.

Let me break it down for you: Clifford is cleaning out his dog house, and has a huge pile of stinky and dirty stuff outside his dog house. (Given Clifford's mutant stature, the pile looks exactly like the mounds of crap that are removed from houses on Hoarders). Every item that gets pulled from the pie brings back memories, and we get to relive several stories through the magic of the television flashback. All that is missing is the expert/therapist introducing the memory with a comment about how "typically objects carry emotional weight for hoarders, and throwing them out makes them fear losing the memory or somehow betraying it." Which is why Clifford decides he can throw nothing away. Emily Elizabeth discovers his stash, and laughs!

Yeah, how many mummified cats do you think are in his pile?

I'm sorry Clifford, I just can't handle it.