I have had an annoying problem lately. Just when I get in a happy little mood and I'm all ready to write something out, a bit of the grumpy life sets in. Sometimes it's my grumpy stuff, other times it's someone else's.
My grumpy stuff is just boring and I don't even want to hear about it. Typically it's that I'm tired, I don't want to be tired and now I'm grumpy because I'm tired, which usually just leads to a blue mood because I don't want to be grumpy or tired. Why would I want to share that every time it happens?
Other people's grumpy, well that I do not share for a different reason. My name and my stories are on this blog because I choose for them to be. I just don't feel like I have the right to put my friends and family on display. Even if I do not mention them by name, someone somewhere will know who I am talking about, starting with the person that is the subject of the story.
And it goes beyond just grumpy. For example, someone you love continues to walk into a brick wall that you deperately want to point out to them, but you know that they have to know the wall is there, I mean there is a huge flashing sign that says "Wall - Do Not Walk Into Me" on it, and yet...
All of this, of course, reminds me of my father. Now him, I have no problem telling stories about. Partly because he's dead and any arguments we have now are very one-sided and partly because my father was a huge fan of letting it all hang out. If someone was holding back a secret, he felt it was best to talk about it. Not in an "Enquirer" kind of way, but in the "Secrets only hide shame and fear" kind of way.
I have tried his way before with family, but was horribly unsuccessful. I guess openly airing secrets should be left to the people who regularly burn sage and smell like lavender and patchouli. And so, on many topics I have become mute. A very hard thing to accomplish when it involves the people you are rooting for.
One time I tried to write out my feelings in the extreme abstract, but in the end I still identified my subject just a little too well. I think the only way I could ever publish that story would be if I removed the last few sentences (which I refuse to do) or if my blog was published completely anonymously with absolutely no ties to the people I know. I think I'm starting to see how easy and enticing it could be to share a personal story with a complete stranger.
During the day I worry too much over the hearts of my loved ones, and at night when my heart is resting, I am able to think of the stories that make me smile. Maybe I should set up the laptop in the bedroom. The last story I wanted to write was going to be called "Pillow Talk". I am very much look forward to reading that one.
Tonight I'll end this entry with the mantra I have for the people whose lives I want to change just a little bit to make me happy. "They are doing what they need to be doing right now. Later they may do something else, but for now, this is what they are choosing for themselves and I love them."
Much love to everyone tonight. I hope all of your hearts are resting easy.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
To Live A Life In Art
My dad liked to talk. I have no idea how many times he called me and just talked while I listened. 20 minutes or so later, he might have realized that he hadn't yet asked me one question. By this time I was always a bit on the dazed side and couldn't think of a thing to contribute. Even though he is gone now, I still worry that he probably thought I was a bit boring. Today I am remembering a conversation we had that was a slight departure from the norm.
We were talking about the creative projects we had been working on. At the time, I was painting and he was thinking about pottery. I think a friend of his had gotten a kiln and was hoping to set up a small studio. I don't know why, but the imagery I have of the set up was that it was going to be on the roof of a building. Maybe the friend was a roofer. Actually, now that I think about it, that friend is a man who could only be described as Dad's brother. This man is not a roofer.
My project was going to be a combination of acrylic on canvas with different materials glued to it. It was gong to be an ocean scene with sea turtles riding on swirly waves. I think the waves were going to have glass beads glued to them with a little bit of glitter for magic.
And that's when my dad said it. I'm sure he had told me before that he was proud of me, and I know that he had told me that I was talented. And quite often that he loved me. But this one tiny statement meant more to me than anything he had ever said.
"Wow, you live your life in art."
What a compliment! The honor of it coming from him. What a scary thing to hear. I believe my father did lead a life in art, and he was crazy. And not always the good fun kind of crazy. He had an obsessive neglectful side that I wanted to have nothing to do with.
It seems as though there are two different kinds of artists. There are the ones who lead a calm and peaceful existence and then there are the ones who seem calm, but are truly insane. In public, they are slightly more guarded. Possibly more distrustful of themselves than others. With their friends, the crazy lets loose. Their public persona sells the art, the private one makes clothing for their hippie ferret colony.
My father created breathtaking pieces of art in jewelry and in his dining room he had put together an entire fossilized dinosaur. Was this also to be my fate?
I have always been drawn to creating - anything. It pretty much all sounds exciting to me. Whenever I get started with a project, I fall in love with it. Unfortunately, just as I am about to really get somewhere with it, I completely abandon it. As I am typing, clay and paint are drying out and paint brushes are slowly disintegrating in neatly stacked clear boxes in the next room.
So now I must apologize to my blog, and to whomever is reading this, for trying to abandon it. I am still very much in love with you, I guess I was just worried about having a dinosaur in the kitchen. I must keep writing, even if it's bad, even if it's good. Maybe for the first time in my life I will live in art. I guess we'll find out together what kind of artist I am.
We were talking about the creative projects we had been working on. At the time, I was painting and he was thinking about pottery. I think a friend of his had gotten a kiln and was hoping to set up a small studio. I don't know why, but the imagery I have of the set up was that it was going to be on the roof of a building. Maybe the friend was a roofer. Actually, now that I think about it, that friend is a man who could only be described as Dad's brother. This man is not a roofer.
My project was going to be a combination of acrylic on canvas with different materials glued to it. It was gong to be an ocean scene with sea turtles riding on swirly waves. I think the waves were going to have glass beads glued to them with a little bit of glitter for magic.
And that's when my dad said it. I'm sure he had told me before that he was proud of me, and I know that he had told me that I was talented. And quite often that he loved me. But this one tiny statement meant more to me than anything he had ever said.
"Wow, you live your life in art."
What a compliment! The honor of it coming from him. What a scary thing to hear. I believe my father did lead a life in art, and he was crazy. And not always the good fun kind of crazy. He had an obsessive neglectful side that I wanted to have nothing to do with.
It seems as though there are two different kinds of artists. There are the ones who lead a calm and peaceful existence and then there are the ones who seem calm, but are truly insane. In public, they are slightly more guarded. Possibly more distrustful of themselves than others. With their friends, the crazy lets loose. Their public persona sells the art, the private one makes clothing for their hippie ferret colony.
My father created breathtaking pieces of art in jewelry and in his dining room he had put together an entire fossilized dinosaur. Was this also to be my fate?
I have always been drawn to creating - anything. It pretty much all sounds exciting to me. Whenever I get started with a project, I fall in love with it. Unfortunately, just as I am about to really get somewhere with it, I completely abandon it. As I am typing, clay and paint are drying out and paint brushes are slowly disintegrating in neatly stacked clear boxes in the next room.
So now I must apologize to my blog, and to whomever is reading this, for trying to abandon it. I am still very much in love with you, I guess I was just worried about having a dinosaur in the kitchen. I must keep writing, even if it's bad, even if it's good. Maybe for the first time in my life I will live in art. I guess we'll find out together what kind of artist I am.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Momma Said There'd Be Days Like This
It's one of those nights. It's been one of those days. Wake up rested, but I'm still tired. Rest on the couch, but I'm still tired. I rally, get dressed & go out for lunch. Short trip to Big Lots, and then an unfortunate trip to the grocery store. It's been one of those weeks. Every day I have been tired, and every day I have gone to the grocery store.
Today when I was checking out, a helpful lady stopped to tell me a remedy for the blisters on my legs. My medicine causes red splotches that will come and go. Most days, like today, it was on my legs. My legs were showing because I was wearing a new short sundress that my husband bought for me. I was adorable, and I was flashing my splotchy legs. Showing off splotches or the tubing on my chest is a daily fashion decision. Do I feel confident enough to not care and show off anything? Today the answer was "barely". But I really wanted to wear that dress.
Came home from that tired. Rested, ate, rested. Gardened. I'm digging out an extension to my flowerbed, just a couple of feet. I had to rest after every shovel full of dirt. I called the project done for the evening after I moved the bricks to their new boundaries. Turns out that an ant colony had made it's home under those bricks. Poor guys.
Came inside to rest. Now I really need to start cooking dinner. Karl will be home in less than an hour, and everything is waiting for me in the refrigerator. But right now I am tired. And I don't know how I am going to get the energy to get up off the couch. I've been trying to pay attention to my energy level the last couple of days to see if it is time to increase my Flolan dose. Obviously, the answer is yes. But even if I increase right now, I won't feel it till morning. And that is not going to help with dinner. I would forget about it, but Karl has been at work since 9 this morning, and I really want to do this one thing for him. And for me.
I tried calling family for moral support, but quickly realized that what I need is to rally. Again. And to increase my Flolan. When I increase the dose, I'm going to have a few days of random back pain that will steal my energy during the day and wake me up at night. I will also get the shooting jaw pain for the first bite every time I eat something. Right now it all seems so exhausting. Okay, I can do this. On the count of three. One. Two. . . . .Three.
Today when I was checking out, a helpful lady stopped to tell me a remedy for the blisters on my legs. My medicine causes red splotches that will come and go. Most days, like today, it was on my legs. My legs were showing because I was wearing a new short sundress that my husband bought for me. I was adorable, and I was flashing my splotchy legs. Showing off splotches or the tubing on my chest is a daily fashion decision. Do I feel confident enough to not care and show off anything? Today the answer was "barely". But I really wanted to wear that dress.
Came home from that tired. Rested, ate, rested. Gardened. I'm digging out an extension to my flowerbed, just a couple of feet. I had to rest after every shovel full of dirt. I called the project done for the evening after I moved the bricks to their new boundaries. Turns out that an ant colony had made it's home under those bricks. Poor guys.
Came inside to rest. Now I really need to start cooking dinner. Karl will be home in less than an hour, and everything is waiting for me in the refrigerator. But right now I am tired. And I don't know how I am going to get the energy to get up off the couch. I've been trying to pay attention to my energy level the last couple of days to see if it is time to increase my Flolan dose. Obviously, the answer is yes. But even if I increase right now, I won't feel it till morning. And that is not going to help with dinner. I would forget about it, but Karl has been at work since 9 this morning, and I really want to do this one thing for him. And for me.
I tried calling family for moral support, but quickly realized that what I need is to rally. Again. And to increase my Flolan. When I increase the dose, I'm going to have a few days of random back pain that will steal my energy during the day and wake me up at night. I will also get the shooting jaw pain for the first bite every time I eat something. Right now it all seems so exhausting. Okay, I can do this. On the count of three. One. Two. . . . .Three.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
G-Rated
I don't know what to do. There is something going on between Karl and I, and I'm not sure that we can fix this.
We've been married over 13 years. I know things change in marriages... but not this. I thought we would never lose our enthusiasm for this. I guess we can still enjoy other things together. It's just so frustrating! This should be an easy thing for us, but now we have to make ourselves want it. Maybe we're just out of sync. He has been working more. I guess I've been a little bit wrapped up in worrying over family. We seem to have different desires, and we're not connecting. Whenever I want it, he doesn't, and when he wants it I don't. I want to believe that this will sort itself out over time, but what if it just gets worse? Oh well, I've gone this far. I might as well tell you.
Karl and I, we're um, we're not dessert people. I know! How can we not be?! I love to eat and Karl's not a lightweight, either. But the proof is in the refrigerator.
3 days ago I made the yummiest chocolate coconut pie. My mom calls it my "Reformed Sinner Pie" because I exchanged out so many of the "bad" ingredients and it's still an award winning pie. The first time I made this pie, it was a "10". This second one was an "8". There is no reason to ignore a pie that is an "8". Not even a quarter of the pie has been eaten. I don't know what to do. I know Karl loves this pie. It just never seems to be the right time to have a slice. I fear I will have to give it away.
This pie has not been the first sign of something wrong, although it has been a blaring bullhorn with a flashing strobe light. My worrying started when I threw out a container of bonbons from my freezer that were over 2 years old. Mocha bonbons. Ugh. Then there's the Almond Joy in my pantry from Halloween. I picked it out for myself because it's possibly my favorite gas station candy treat. And then there's the cookies. I'm too ashamed to say how many boxes of Girl Scout cookies are in my freezer. I refuse to get rid of them. I hold out hope for a cookie binge.
I finally decided to stop buying sweets from outside of the home. At least until we have finished off what we already have. It surprises me that I may also have to put a ban on my own cooking now.
Oh no. Does this mean I'll have to change the name of my blog? That's it!! Enough is enough!! Today I will have dessert!!! Just not right now.
We've been married over 13 years. I know things change in marriages... but not this. I thought we would never lose our enthusiasm for this. I guess we can still enjoy other things together. It's just so frustrating! This should be an easy thing for us, but now we have to make ourselves want it. Maybe we're just out of sync. He has been working more. I guess I've been a little bit wrapped up in worrying over family. We seem to have different desires, and we're not connecting. Whenever I want it, he doesn't, and when he wants it I don't. I want to believe that this will sort itself out over time, but what if it just gets worse? Oh well, I've gone this far. I might as well tell you.
Karl and I, we're um, we're not dessert people. I know! How can we not be?! I love to eat and Karl's not a lightweight, either. But the proof is in the refrigerator.
3 days ago I made the yummiest chocolate coconut pie. My mom calls it my "Reformed Sinner Pie" because I exchanged out so many of the "bad" ingredients and it's still an award winning pie. The first time I made this pie, it was a "10". This second one was an "8". There is no reason to ignore a pie that is an "8". Not even a quarter of the pie has been eaten. I don't know what to do. I know Karl loves this pie. It just never seems to be the right time to have a slice. I fear I will have to give it away.
This pie has not been the first sign of something wrong, although it has been a blaring bullhorn with a flashing strobe light. My worrying started when I threw out a container of bonbons from my freezer that were over 2 years old. Mocha bonbons. Ugh. Then there's the Almond Joy in my pantry from Halloween. I picked it out for myself because it's possibly my favorite gas station candy treat. And then there's the cookies. I'm too ashamed to say how many boxes of Girl Scout cookies are in my freezer. I refuse to get rid of them. I hold out hope for a cookie binge.
I finally decided to stop buying sweets from outside of the home. At least until we have finished off what we already have. It surprises me that I may also have to put a ban on my own cooking now.
Oh no. Does this mean I'll have to change the name of my blog? That's it!! Enough is enough!! Today I will have dessert!!! Just not right now.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
First you think it, Then you say it, Then you do it
I am exhausted. I think in a good way. Health is great, I'm just lacking a bit of inspiration. This is a bit embarrassing because inspiration is all around me. New life is everywhere, my trees are beautiful, the flowers are blooming, the weather is gorgeous. But still. All I want to do is nap on the deck instead of put my house in order. Hmm, maybe I'm just being hard on myself again. Who wouldn't rather nap outside with that breeze over having to do all of the dishes.
Yesterday was the same way, but I did go out and take care of some errands with my mom. Actually, we were out longer than expected and as it turned out, Mom's day wasn't over yet. Really the only thing I could do to make her evening easier was to drop her off at her house. Right before I left her place, I decided to get a cold drink from my new groceries in the hatch of my car. This one innocent action was the beginning of the end for all of my day's good endeavors.
My mother's next door neighbor is lovely. She's just stunning to look at and her yard is a small sanctuary. She was out front filling up some pots, we waved and greeted each other, and then she started giving me one compliment after another. I have been behind on my laundry, so the cleanest thing I found to wear was a sundress. Just a simple sleeveless cotton dress that is a nice purple. I'm not sure I had brushed my hair. Apparently the combination worked very well and the neighbor wanted to take my photo in front of her coral honeysuckle out back. I very much have been wanting an invitation to visit, so even though photos were involved, I had to go.
It was totally worth it. The coral vine was thick and growing over a lovely archway. This is where I got to stand and have a couple of quick pix taken of me. Lovely! Of course, I looked slightly uncomfortable as I always do in front of a camera. But that doesn't matter. The honeysuckle was the real star. And of course I got the grand tour. I loved every second of it. I drooled a bit over the ginger flowers. Thankfully, the neighbor took this as a sign of a kindred spirit instead of a sign that maybe inviting me over is something that should never happen again. I was experiencing a complete garden high.
And I was not quite in my right mind when I finally did head for home. For the second part of my story, I have to back up a little. When I was driving with Mom back to her house, we past by my new favorite barbecue place. It's located on a little piece of land in the country and the food is served from a trailer. All I did at that particular moment was to think "Yummmy.... Barbecue".
At the neighbor's house we discussed both flower and food gardens. I had said that because of my medication and barbecue addiction that I try to make everything else that I eat organic. Even my cayenne pepper.
And there it was, the action. I was driving to the barbecue trailer. I joyfully ordered my sandwich and skipped back to my car with it. This tasty tasty sandwich sat alluring on the passenger's side seat. Traffic was working against me. So against me. I took a bite. And then another bite. The cars moved 2 feet and I put the sandwich down. Once I was at a full stop, I closed up the sandwich and put it on the floorboard. Someone should really do something about the length of the lights on Swisher.
I stretched for the sandwich, stole another bite and returned the contraband to the floorboard. Ugh. We all inched forward. Slow inches. I grabbed for the sandwich again, and then this time when I was done put it in the backseat. If I'm not using my cellphone in the car (I also don't know where my cellphone is), then I'm pretty sure that drooling over my chopped beef sandwich with spicy sauce, pickles and jalapenos is also out. I was 12 minutes from home and already halfway through the sandwich.
About a quarter of it made it into the house. Oh forbidden barbecue, how I love you. What I really need is a carrot farm to drive past. Then my day would end with spicy carrot soup. Oh well, it was worth it. My only worry now is if my husband or mom will want to eat there tomorrow. I'll have to work out a secret wink with the barbecue people to not out me.
If you happen to be out my way, go to Tredway Barbecue. If you are supposed to be having dinner at my house, pick me up a sandwich, too.
Yesterday was the same way, but I did go out and take care of some errands with my mom. Actually, we were out longer than expected and as it turned out, Mom's day wasn't over yet. Really the only thing I could do to make her evening easier was to drop her off at her house. Right before I left her place, I decided to get a cold drink from my new groceries in the hatch of my car. This one innocent action was the beginning of the end for all of my day's good endeavors.
My mother's next door neighbor is lovely. She's just stunning to look at and her yard is a small sanctuary. She was out front filling up some pots, we waved and greeted each other, and then she started giving me one compliment after another. I have been behind on my laundry, so the cleanest thing I found to wear was a sundress. Just a simple sleeveless cotton dress that is a nice purple. I'm not sure I had brushed my hair. Apparently the combination worked very well and the neighbor wanted to take my photo in front of her coral honeysuckle out back. I very much have been wanting an invitation to visit, so even though photos were involved, I had to go.
It was totally worth it. The coral vine was thick and growing over a lovely archway. This is where I got to stand and have a couple of quick pix taken of me. Lovely! Of course, I looked slightly uncomfortable as I always do in front of a camera. But that doesn't matter. The honeysuckle was the real star. And of course I got the grand tour. I loved every second of it. I drooled a bit over the ginger flowers. Thankfully, the neighbor took this as a sign of a kindred spirit instead of a sign that maybe inviting me over is something that should never happen again. I was experiencing a complete garden high.
And I was not quite in my right mind when I finally did head for home. For the second part of my story, I have to back up a little. When I was driving with Mom back to her house, we past by my new favorite barbecue place. It's located on a little piece of land in the country and the food is served from a trailer. All I did at that particular moment was to think "Yummmy.... Barbecue".
At the neighbor's house we discussed both flower and food gardens. I had said that because of my medication and barbecue addiction that I try to make everything else that I eat organic. Even my cayenne pepper.
And there it was, the action. I was driving to the barbecue trailer. I joyfully ordered my sandwich and skipped back to my car with it. This tasty tasty sandwich sat alluring on the passenger's side seat. Traffic was working against me. So against me. I took a bite. And then another bite. The cars moved 2 feet and I put the sandwich down. Once I was at a full stop, I closed up the sandwich and put it on the floorboard. Someone should really do something about the length of the lights on Swisher.
I stretched for the sandwich, stole another bite and returned the contraband to the floorboard. Ugh. We all inched forward. Slow inches. I grabbed for the sandwich again, and then this time when I was done put it in the backseat. If I'm not using my cellphone in the car (I also don't know where my cellphone is), then I'm pretty sure that drooling over my chopped beef sandwich with spicy sauce, pickles and jalapenos is also out. I was 12 minutes from home and already halfway through the sandwich.
About a quarter of it made it into the house. Oh forbidden barbecue, how I love you. What I really need is a carrot farm to drive past. Then my day would end with spicy carrot soup. Oh well, it was worth it. My only worry now is if my husband or mom will want to eat there tomorrow. I'll have to work out a secret wink with the barbecue people to not out me.
If you happen to be out my way, go to Tredway Barbecue. If you are supposed to be having dinner at my house, pick me up a sandwich, too.
Friday, April 9, 2010
E-mail to an Etsy Artist
hi!
you do have my correct address and you are also right about this being my first purchase on etsy. i found your art while doing a search on etsy for a recipe box. i became disabled a couple of years ago, but i am finally having a good year for health (i love 2010!). since i'm all bright eyed and bushy tailed i've been cooking again. and i have been really good at it. i often forget how i made something, or even that i made it. i tried to keep recipes on my computer (didn't work), tried a notebook (didn't work), really really wanted a recipe box.
once i decided that i was going to buy a box, i knew that i wanted to buy one from etsy. i have been looking at your recipe box for a very long time now. i have also looked at hundreds of others trying to find anything that i like as well. your box is so lovely, and nothing else compared. so i didn't buy anything.
tonight i finally decided that i was going to buy one. another great night of food, and another batch of recipes that may be forgotten. i had picked out 2 others that were the best i could find in my price range. asked my husband to help me decide which seemed to be the best for me. we've been together 14 years and i really value his input on things that i am not enjoying making a decision about. one was totally out (he was right, i picked it because it reminded me of something my aunt would love) and that left the other one. neither one of us were really excited. but i was resigned to buying it.
he asked me if there were any others that i liked. i told him about yours, but that it really was art and not quite in my budget. then my husband asked me what i would buy if money didn't matter. i showed him yours. he immediately agreed that it was perfect for me. he also pointed out that this would be the one that i would always have and always love. i think he was right about that, too.
to complete my tale of chilvalry, his birthday is on sunday. he has asked for nothing but for me to be happy. on his birthday he wants us to go to an art fair in a city close by. balance needs to be restored. maybe he'll spend the night snoring really loud.
thank you so much for your offer to engrave the box. if it is possible, if this is not too long, i would love to have engraved:
Every day in Every way I Am getting Better and Better
if that is too much, then this would be my second choice:
Happy Birthday Sweet Man!
would the engraving go on the inside of the box? i would really hate to chance hurting the outside of it.
thank you for creating this box. it is beautiful and i have loved looking at it. i would actually hold my breathe just a little until i had seen that it was still there. i am very happy that it will soon be in my kitchen.
if you have any stories of making the box, i would love to hear them.
i just re-read this message and realized that i am going to have to post it in my blog. i haven't written anything in way too long and i obviously needed to. this message is definitely long enough to call a blog. if you would like to see it posted, the link is
www.thislifecomeswithcake.blogspot.com
thanks again,
honey
hi!
you do have my correct address and you are also right about this being my first purchase on etsy. i found your art while doing a search on etsy for a recipe box. i became disabled a couple of years ago, but i am finally having a good year for health (i love 2010!). since i'm all bright eyed and bushy tailed i've been cooking again. and i have been really good at it. i often forget how i made something, or even that i made it. i tried to keep recipes on my computer (didn't work), tried a notebook (didn't work), really really wanted a recipe box.
once i decided that i was going to buy a box, i knew that i wanted to buy one from etsy. i have been looking at your recipe box for a very long time now. i have also looked at hundreds of others trying to find anything that i like as well. your box is so lovely, and nothing else compared. so i didn't buy anything.
tonight i finally decided that i was going to buy one. another great night of food, and another batch of recipes that may be forgotten. i had picked out 2 others that were the best i could find in my price range. asked my husband to help me decide which seemed to be the best for me. we've been together 14 years and i really value his input on things that i am not enjoying making a decision about. one was totally out (he was right, i picked it because it reminded me of something my aunt would love) and that left the other one. neither one of us were really excited. but i was resigned to buying it.
he asked me if there were any others that i liked. i told him about yours, but that it really was art and not quite in my budget. then my husband asked me what i would buy if money didn't matter. i showed him yours. he immediately agreed that it was perfect for me. he also pointed out that this would be the one that i would always have and always love. i think he was right about that, too.
to complete my tale of chilvalry, his birthday is on sunday. he has asked for nothing but for me to be happy. on his birthday he wants us to go to an art fair in a city close by. balance needs to be restored. maybe he'll spend the night snoring really loud.
thank you so much for your offer to engrave the box. if it is possible, if this is not too long, i would love to have engraved:
Every day in Every way I Am getting Better and Better
if that is too much, then this would be my second choice:
Happy Birthday Sweet Man!
would the engraving go on the inside of the box? i would really hate to chance hurting the outside of it.
thank you for creating this box. it is beautiful and i have loved looking at it. i would actually hold my breathe just a little until i had seen that it was still there. i am very happy that it will soon be in my kitchen.
if you have any stories of making the box, i would love to hear them.
i just re-read this message and realized that i am going to have to post it in my blog. i haven't written anything in way too long and i obviously needed to. this message is definitely long enough to call a blog. if you would like to see it posted, the link is
www.thislifecomeswithcake.blogspot.com
thanks again,
honey
hi!
Monday, March 29, 2010
Anniversary Blues
I hate anniversaries. I have too many bad ones and not enough good ones. Actually, I probably have lots of good ones. I hate that the bad ones are somehow easier to remember than the good ones.
Karl has come home from work many an anniversary (the good kind), roses and chocolates in hand, a big smile on his face and "I love you" on his lips. I'll have dirty dishes and a cleaning sponge in my hands, a look of complete confusion on my face and then an immediate "D'0h!" followed by lots of apologies. Thankfully, my husband finds this funny. He also seems to find humor in me forgetting my birthdays.
Bad anniversaries have a different way of announcing themselves. An unexplained dark mood sets in. I very much dislike feeling grumpy for no apparent reason. I think I dislike the ambivalence that comes with it even more.
What makes this bad anniversary especially frustrating is that there is much to celebrate now. Sometime within the next 2 weeks marks the date that I went into the hospital last year. Having that 50 lbs of water on me (most of which was in my abdomen) was painful, breathing hurt and there was little food that did not start an exodus. I think if I had kept a log during that time, little would have been written about fear, lots would have been written about my determination to get the water off of me.
The first thing I did this morning while I was still in bed (after determining that the bird in my tree was the first robin I had seen this year) was stare at my stomach. I love how my stomach is flatter when I'm laying down. I breathed deeply and appreciated being able to effortlessly fill my lungs. I thought about what I would have for breakfast and was grateful that I knew I would be able to keep what I ate down.
I don't know if I have mentioned this yet, but giving thanks has been a point of contention for me. When I used to hear "Give thanks for the little things", or "Don't take the little things for granted", I always thought of being thankful for flowers or clean water. I never thought about being grateful that I could load and unload the dishwasher or complete a load of laundry. Or be grateful that I could walk to the end of the yard to get the mail. Jeez, or even have the strength to pet Jane.
Right now I want to feel the happiness of coming so far from last year. I want to feel proud of my accomplishments. Instead I'm fighting the sorrow of what last year was and how it affected myself and my family. I'm sorry for the people that I lost and the good-byes I was not able to say.
But I'll do what I can for now and celebrate my life by living it and have faith that the sadness will lift and peace will settle in. So now I'll turn off my computer, get my mom for a lunch out, go walk a half mile down by the lake and then garden with Jane for an hour or so. I think I'll take some birdseed out for the robins. Jane will like that.
Karl has come home from work many an anniversary (the good kind), roses and chocolates in hand, a big smile on his face and "I love you" on his lips. I'll have dirty dishes and a cleaning sponge in my hands, a look of complete confusion on my face and then an immediate "D'0h!" followed by lots of apologies. Thankfully, my husband finds this funny. He also seems to find humor in me forgetting my birthdays.
Bad anniversaries have a different way of announcing themselves. An unexplained dark mood sets in. I very much dislike feeling grumpy for no apparent reason. I think I dislike the ambivalence that comes with it even more.
What makes this bad anniversary especially frustrating is that there is much to celebrate now. Sometime within the next 2 weeks marks the date that I went into the hospital last year. Having that 50 lbs of water on me (most of which was in my abdomen) was painful, breathing hurt and there was little food that did not start an exodus. I think if I had kept a log during that time, little would have been written about fear, lots would have been written about my determination to get the water off of me.
The first thing I did this morning while I was still in bed (after determining that the bird in my tree was the first robin I had seen this year) was stare at my stomach. I love how my stomach is flatter when I'm laying down. I breathed deeply and appreciated being able to effortlessly fill my lungs. I thought about what I would have for breakfast and was grateful that I knew I would be able to keep what I ate down.
I don't know if I have mentioned this yet, but giving thanks has been a point of contention for me. When I used to hear "Give thanks for the little things", or "Don't take the little things for granted", I always thought of being thankful for flowers or clean water. I never thought about being grateful that I could load and unload the dishwasher or complete a load of laundry. Or be grateful that I could walk to the end of the yard to get the mail. Jeez, or even have the strength to pet Jane.
Right now I want to feel the happiness of coming so far from last year. I want to feel proud of my accomplishments. Instead I'm fighting the sorrow of what last year was and how it affected myself and my family. I'm sorry for the people that I lost and the good-byes I was not able to say.
But I'll do what I can for now and celebrate my life by living it and have faith that the sadness will lift and peace will settle in. So now I'll turn off my computer, get my mom for a lunch out, go walk a half mile down by the lake and then garden with Jane for an hour or so. I think I'll take some birdseed out for the robins. Jane will like that.
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