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After Dark

On nights, like tonight, when I work until closing time, I don't get home until about 1:00 a.m.

I come home to:
dirty dishes
unfinished chores
a hungry kitty
a sleeping husband
a puppy who eagerly laps my face

First, I tiptoe into the bedroom to kiss my sleeping husband right smack on the forehead, then the lips.

Next, I take the puppy outside to do what he needs to do.

Outside I:
soak up the silence
smile at the sparkling frost
bask in the light of the nearly full moon

After tucking the puppy into bed, I am still full of energy.

This early, early morning I:
put away dishes
washed dishes
folded all three loads of clean laundry
made husband's lunch
cleaned kitty's box

Lately, all my energy comes out to play after dark.

Time

I need to leave for work in 14 minutes and I still haven't put make-up on, done the dishes, made the bed, or folded the two bags of clean laundry that I washed on Saturday afternoon.

Ever feel behind?

I have, however, worked on my memoir, researched for a paper I am working on, read NieNie and CJane, walked the dog, played ball with the dog, had dinner, talked to my mother-in-law, and updated my Amazon Christmas wish list.

Priorities, mine are ever changing and sometimes misplaced.

What about you?

On the Way

Seems another friend of mine has a baby on the way! The baby will arrive at the end of July 2010. Congrats, friend (you know who you are) <3 What a lucky baby to have you for a mom xoxo

So happy that my friend family is ever growing!

Left Alone

Laying in bed last night listening to the dishwasher run, I remembered the first time my mother left me alone.

I was eight years old. We were living in our third, and my favorite, house. My best friend was visiting and we were deeply entrenched in imaginative play. My mother needed to go to the farm down the street for vegetables. Ali and I asked to stay home. My mom wasn't sure about that. We promised everything would be fine and we would stay in the house. After much prodding, my mom relented. After all, she would only be gone 10 minutes or so. "The dryer is running so you may here some noises come from the basement. I'll be back in just a few minutes."

It wasn't long after she left that we heard noises. After a few more minutes we convinced ourselves that it didn't sound like the dryer. We decided someone must be in the basement or trying to get in the house.

Ali and I ran up to the third floor bathroom and hid in the tub. That is exactly where my mother found us whispering to each other when she returned mere minutes later. "I guess we need to wait a little longer until I leave you alone again." she laughed. "No, no, Mom. We're fine like we promised." I insisted.

I can't remember the next time she left me alone with no adult present in the house. Truthfully, I was probably 16.

Lying in bed in the dark I felt alone, floating, suspended in time, and 8 years old all over again.

Pink Ribbon

Back in September, Mr.B&B and I spent a day on the beach in Marblehead, MA while Pierce the puppy was having his surgery in Lynn, MA.

While we languished (see 1. 3. & 5.) on the rocks, wistfully daydreaming aloud my eyes wandered from rock to rock seeking treasure.

When I first saw it, I was sure it was painted. Upon further inspection, it was clearly all natural. A pink ribbon rock.

Side One:


Side Two:


I know it is no longer Breast Cancer Awareness Month, but I had to share this natural phenomenon. Four ladies in my life have valiantly battled this disease. They are strong as rocks and natural phenomenons on the grandest scale. xoxo.

Part-Time

Y'all, I have a part-time job for the holiday season (hopefully longer).

I'll be working at the most lovely store.

Training is tonight from 5 to 11.

Check out my experiences here.

Biggity Back

I'm back. After months in my head, I am back.

I've found that I am more apt to spot the joy in the every day when I am blogging.

I need more joy.

I'm biggity back, back, back! (and I've missed you all)

Fighting Fear

Yesterday I took the puppy for a 4.5 mile run/walk. With about a mile and a half to go I ran into road work and had to follow the detour sign. In front of me were a middle aged man and his West Highland White Terrier. As I went to run past, Pierce puppy stopped to play with the Westie.

I said hello and made small talk while the dogs played. The man was from England, but has lived here seven years. We talked about dogs, the Public Option, Europe's impending decline, and how Americans are "too trusting." As we were parting ways he yelled across the field, "You know, you better be careful, a man walking his dog could be a serial killer."

I paused for a moment letting that sink in. "Who says that?" was my internal dialogue.

He turned around and yelled over his shoulder, "I'm not, but you never know."

Pierce and I resumed running and I found myself running a little faster.

You must know, I was along a main road with lots of cars going by in a highly populated area. As safe as safe is going to get when you are running/walking a dog by yourself.

It bothered me that I temporarily ran a little faster, that I allowed the him to get to me, allowed fear to seep in.

I'm a trusting person. I believe that there is good in everyone. My instinct is to be courteous and friendly. I live life with an open heart.

For a moment, that fear-mongering man made me question all of that. I thought, "Maybe I am too naive... maybe I should be more guarded..."

Then my brain and heart connected and compromised. I won't be running on that side of the river for a few days, but I am also not going to let the Brit get the better of me, harden my heart... I will still be courteous and friendly and let Pierce stop to socialize with other pups and, if I am uncomfortable at any point, I'll resume our run with nothing but maybe a little wave good-bye.

I was afraid of a lot of things between the age of 10 and 19.

I know that living in fear is no life at all.

I'm taking the pup for a run right now along the banks of the river, over the bridge, past the willows, along the facades of the former mills, past Mr. and Mrs. Mallard (lucky duckies in Love)... Just like we do every day.

Are you fighting any fears today? How do you let go of them?

Running

Every day, at least twice a day,I take the puppy for a run.


After a run - August 20, 2009

I won't go so far as to say that I love it...

but I am regaining shape, slowly losing some weight, and going further and faster. It also clears my mind and, after running, I am more productive for the remainder of the day. Yippee for running! Hip hip hooray!

Now the big question, how can something that is so good for me literally (physically) be so bad for me figuratively (emotionally)? (am I using literally and figuratively appropriately?...too many ly's)


Most agree, running from your emotions is bad. It can make you physically ill. If you run from your emotions for too long you may do or say something you can't take back. Eventually, the emotions you are running from will catch up to you.

Personally, I find it easier to run physically every day than to face my deepest emotions every day. Emotions are difficult and scary and usually require some type of action in order to achieve resolution. Usually, you have to say something to someone and risk their reaction. I value my relationships so much that this is often difficult. In the end, I recognize that facing your deepest, most difficult emotions is beneficial, but oh the journey...the long, long journey.

5 miles a day is easy for me physically.
How is five miles a day measured emotionally?
10 minutes of crying, 6 hugs, 15 minutes of introspection, and 1 blog post?

Let me know when you figure it out, literally.

Girl Time

On Saturday, I met up with my friend Alison. We had tea and talking at Starbucks. Talking was long over due. There was so much to say.

Then we took a short drive to the mall, a place I rarely visit. We went to Lush for hair care products. Bath and Body Works because I had a gift certificate. Victoria's Secret because she had a coupon for a free pair of panties and $10 of a purchase of $10 or more. Second Time Around, an awesome second hand store.

Inevitably, we spent most of our time (and money) at Anthropologie. We would both like to live in that store. Something about Anthro is so calming and inspiring. It is a visual and textural feast. Prancing around the dressing room in ridiculously amazing frocks bestowing compliment after compliment on each other was delightful. I bought a dress, a skirt, and a top. Alison, six months pregnant with her second son and absolutely radiant bought a top, too. We left so many things we really loved behind. I guess that means we will just have to go back again soon.

There is something so therapeutic about spending time with a girlfriend. Time falls away. Worries are eased. We feel free to be ourselves, without care for what those around us might think of our silly antics or intimate topics of conversation.

Alison, I am so grateful for your friendship and always here for you no matter... Thank you for Saturday!

Around (Water)Town

In the blue light of evening, the puppy and I took a stroll. There is a certain charm to our town. It speaks for itself...

Town Hall and its tree:




A bit of the library. See the lady in the window?:


Old Coca Cola sign:


By the river:

The Charles River


Bench and Flowers


Mills Turned Art Studios


Old art deco(?) facade of town pool

Ma'am

At CVS this morning an employee asked, "Need any help Ma'am?"

At Town Hall, a gentleman held the door for me, "Ma'am." he said as he nodded me by.

At the gas station where I waited for my car to be inspected, "Ma'am, you're all set." the boy not much younger than me proclaimed.

Do I look like a Ma'am to you?

Exhibit A:

Okay, so maybe the glasses are a little "Granny" and I do have some freckles. No wrinkles though and I think the hair is pretty sexy.

Exhibit B:

The corduroy blazer is a little "Ma'am ish", I guess, but the rest looks pretty young and fresh to me.

Exhibit C:

So you can assess my ma'am ish ness from another angle...

I actually looked up Ma'am, short for madam, which is by definition:
"a women of refinement." In my case, this is debatable.

"the mistress of a household" True.

"a woman in charge of a brothel"
My favorite definition. Though not true, it is possible that with the plunging neckline, shape defining jacket, wild hair, and cunning smile, one of the three thought it to be true.

Maybe, Ma'am is not such a bad way to be addressed after all. It doesn't necessarily mean I look old and at least it shows some respect.

A Writer

Since I am not taking any classes this semester, I have a hard time answering when people ask, "What do you do?"

I keep house.

I care for my husband.

I read.

I raise a kitty and a puppy.

I jog.

Mostly, I write. Does that make me a writer?

Can I say, "I am a writer." without being a fraud, without feeling like a fraud?

I haven't published a book. I don't write regularly for anyone but myself. I don't get paid to write. Am I still a writer, just an as yet unrecognized talent?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Why does what we do matter so much socially? What kind of a question is, "What do you do?" I often want to answer,"I live." An unexpected answer to what I think is a semi-ridiculous question.

I am ultimately more interested in the who's and why's and how's than the where's and what's.

Maybe I am a writer after all.

Dr., Dr., Give Me The News

I consider myself a pretty healthy person. I am vegan. I jog/walk 5 or more miles a day. I (mostly) make things from scratch instead of buying processed foods. I go to therapy for mental health.

Pretty healthy, right?

A couple weeks ago I went to the eye doctor.
"Your eyes have stayed the same." she proclaimed.
"Really? This is the first time ever that my eyes haven't changed." I was giddy!
"Well, you are ol... I mean, at a certain point, around your age, it's normal."
Horrified, I was. Old? She stopped just short of saying I'm old? Wow.

A few days later, I was at my new OBGYN.
After the normal pleasantries, she said, "So, you are 28."
Then I heard a stranger with my voice say, "Yes." Like, it was normal. Automatic.
My mind questioned this stranger, "Really? You are 28? How, when did this happen?"
We talked about the possibility of difficulties and dangers of getting pregnant. That, with my health history and age, I should do it sooner rather than later, if it is something my husband and I want. It was then that my mind caught up with the stranger, and slowly accepted that "Wow, I am an adult and my age is ever advancing and with age comes physical changes even if my mind and heart are still 5 years young. I have some serious choices to make."

Sitting in bed with the diagnosis of Bronchitis that has come after two weeks of coughing non-stop, I've been sewing itty bitty things for itty bitty babies that my friends will be bringing into this world soon and feeling nothing but joy. Then I heard it, a faint whisper of hope, a baby's cry, "I'm coming. Just ask for me, pray for me and you could be my mom."

I may be getting older, but my life isn't over. In fact, I could still be immortalized by a child if I wish, if I chose, if I pray... and I may.

Unrequited Love

Pierce looks at Iris.


Iris looks at Pierce.

Oh, Baby!

It seems everyone around me is pregnant these days. Our upstairs neighbor is due in December. My darling Alison is having her second in January. My sweet friend, Irma, is due in February.

Melissa of "Everything I want to tell you..." is giving away a gorgeous maternity dress from Shabby Apple's Mama Apple collection.

I know that this is a dress any one of them would love to cover her growing curves with.




Enter here!

Honestly

I am an optimist. I look for the good in every day. I strive for positivity.

Lately, I have struggled to stay optimistic, see the good, and stay positive.

So, I haven't blogged.

My blog is supposed to be a happy place, a positive space. Why infect it with my struggle? Why subject all of you to my darker places?

I believe there is good in everything, that is why. Maybe if I am honest with myself and with all of you, something good will come out of it.

Honestly?

I am three classes and a thesis away from earning my bachelor's degree. I don't know if I want to continue.

After a year in therapy, I stopped going at the beginning of August. I now realize I need it even if it feels like I am going nowhere or wandering in circles some of the time.

I am unsure about everything these days. At least a few tears fall every day.

Still, the optimist in me still gets me up and out of bed every morning with a "Keep trying and it will get better."

Honestly.

Tip of the Day

Make Yourself Smile

Afternoon thought

My heart is full of cushy things and mixed up knots
of colorful strings
that tease and uncoil as I patiently toil
at growing and learning and living
with all this wonderful world is giving
to me and my heavenly heart.