Friday, July 31, 2009

So this is what normal feels like?

Normal.

It has a ring to it that is distinctly abnormal, doesn't it? That word isn't for us. It's for families where Mom stays home and Dad goes to work from 8-5 and kids sleep in beds with tucked corners and every night there's a casserole and some "tidying up" right before Dad walks through the door, kissing Mom gently on the forehead and kicking off his shoes.

That word is for people who get to rest a little, not people who slap together 1 part law school, 1 part Monty Python, 2 parts Crazies, and 1 part indecisiveness with some Elmer's Glue and Gluten-free Rice Chex and throw it at the wall to see if it will stick. That word isn't for people who separate, come back together, separate "for good", come back together, find help, remarry, act like Crazies for a while, and then decide "once and for all" (for the eightieth time) that they can only be together.

I want to be normal now. Not June Cleaver normal, but Heather & E normal. Yes, the Bar Exam is over. More importantly, the Year of Hell is over. The Bar didn't go as planned for a variety of reasons, most of which will never be covered here. It doesn't matter though. I have my husband back, the kids have their dad back, E has his life back. I've been in a holding pattern since we went to Retrouvaille in February--unable to truly let my hair down and relax because this one box still needed checking. In reality, the one box for the Bar was all-consuming. It meant total change in our lives and there never really was going to be any relaxing until it was over.

Just in the past few months since E and I decided to reconcile:
I'm tired. Apologies to anyone who realizes that is probably the #1 phrase overused in this-here blog, but I am. So many times in these four years I thought "I'm so tired. I can't do this anymore. A person can't handle more than this," and life said ha as life is want to do, and then hit me in the dome with another rotten tomato. Handle this! Keep thinking you're done, PDawg, and I will just sit here with my basket full of Yuk, waiting for you to feel happy so I can spoil it.

There was one casualty this week, and I feel like he needs memorializing here:


Poor, poor phone. He didn't do anything to deserve a beheading. You could argue that chance just meant that he broke this week, but I think it was both a blessing and another one of those rotten tomatoes. We'll never know, but in any case: We'll miss you, E's Phone.

As Al Swearingen says on Deadwood (and as I'm sure I've quoted here before), "announcing your plans is a good way to hear God laugh." Yeah. That Al. He sure knows of that which he speaks. The plan: I drive to E's folks, fighting tooth and nail against instinct and intuition, and leave him home with my love, a note to open each morning and each night, and a pile of Gluten-free, E-approved meals and snacks from his mom to last him through the Bar. E will take the test for three days, I will drive down on Thursday night, run in slow motion across the lawn and into his arms, he will pick me up and twirl me around, and we will live happily ever after. I'm prepared for the nightly phone calls where his resolve needs bolstering, and I'm looking forward to the peaceful time at his folks'. I even go so far as to enjoy myself like mad on the first day/night. I crochet. I sit. I eat. I talk. I breathe.

Reality: lunch time phone call the first day. Long husband-wife conversation. Me, driving aimlessly through town in search of Mimi and the kids, ending up at WalMart because I don't find them, but I don't know what to do. Me, walking bleary-eyed around the Wal, dumping $1 school supplies into my cart like an emotional eater dumping spoonfulls of chocolate cake into her yap. One important call in the parking lot. I need to be home. His parents (are there more AMAZING, selfless, generous, caring people on this earth? I think not.) telling me to go, to take care of him, to tell him they love him.

I came home. I didn't even tell anybody. I felt like once the events of this week set in motion, I needed anonymity, and I needed to be able to think about our family. Not that I could have thought about anything else, anyway. I had the brain equivalent of smudgy contact lenses. Nothing seemed real. E and I spent quiet evenings together just being husband and wife, but there was tension in the air and a sense that it just wasn't over yet. This whole week felt to me the same way it feels when someone you love is in the hospital, and you're just sitting there in the awful waiting room chair for hours. There's no time, only a constant state of worry and a complete fading away of all other factors in your life. I decided to high-tail it up the hill every day for the monkeys' swim lessons, then every night it was back home to E. I've put a lot of miles on the car this week, and it took everything within me just to concentrate and focus so I would be making those journeys safely. The next two days were basically repeats of the first, and last night E and I were so tired we could barely celebrate. The best we could manage was eating our own weights in steak and one drink each, topped off by a trip to Best Buy (where else?) and then a marathon of LOST and passing out.

Nothing like that sleep, either. I'm sitting here Googling a quote that's in my head but I can't remember enough of it to find it. It's something like "we'll sleep the sleep the wretched may, after the storm." If that's not it, then I'll be damned. It doesn't exist on the internet though--probably I've gotten some part of it wrong. I believe it's from some piece of literature or poetry that I teach. (How's that for crummy quoting from an English teacher?) But you get it. We slept heavy last night. Peaceful, but almost drunken sleep with the weight of the last several months upon us. "The sleep of a labouring man is sweet, whether he eat little or much..." (Eccl 5:12, KJV). I would add that his "labouring" wife is pretty sleepy too.

There's an easy happiness here, though. A sense that this chapter is over, and if it only be "for now," then that's life, you know? We need rest. We need family. We need normal, but part of that will be discovering what we want that to mean.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Weird Dreams

I always have weird dreams. I'm pretty good at remembering them too. I don't remember a ton about last nights', but just enough. I'm also in such a weird space right now--this week has been much tougher than I thought it would be, and I feel like I've got to keep moving forward but there's not enough time for a good long post... Just some snippets of the bizarre dream I had right before I woke up this morning:


  1. Me, E, Ad and Hank at some kind of conference. Searching carts full of shoes (old, worn-out shoes) for Hank's lost stuffed puppy, aptly named "Puppy." (IRL Puppy is missing--has been since Yosemite. I'm trying to act like this is not a big deal so Hank won't freak out, but it is a big deal. Kind of a huge deal.)
  2. Me, E, his dad, and Ad, at the junction of two rivers. I know one was the Potomac, but I don't know what the other one was. We were trying to swim upstream against a strong current. Ad had a floaty that looked like an 8, but with one end open. She was in the looped end, and I was in the open end pushing her upstream. It was cold, and the water was a deep, dark blue. The sky was dark too, but it wasn't scary. Just difficult.
  3. Me, E, Ad, Hank in an empty lot--the kind from movies with dangerous pieces of scrap metal and building materials, plus some old abandoned sheds. Climbing over hills of garbage and behind obstacles. Passing endless bits of shoes, this time in pieces all over the ground, strung together, fed through pipes...
  4. Back to the river, where we hadn't made any progress in our upstream quest.
Told ya. WEIRD STUFF.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Quickly...

Satellite Internet is not my friend right now. Slower than molasses on an elephant.

(What? Never mind. That was just for E. Here's another one: post-it on a fish. Sorry, you had to be there.)

I can't think. Tomorrow is the bar exam. I'm not taking the bar exam, E is. Imagine how he must feel right now. But he's home alone. And I'm not there. All I can do is think about him and hope he wakes up on time tomorrow and hope he stays Gluten-free all day so he feels okay, and hope he has energy/confidence/stamina to make it through three days of testing.

Of course, I believe in him. I'm proud of him for doing this. I'm behind him 100%.

GEEZ, I just miss the dude. It was nice to see him last night, but all too quick and then I was gone again today. We swapped places.

The monkeys are doing swim lessons near his parents' house so we're here all week. It's lovely. Time moves slowly here. I barely notice it passing. I don't know what I did all day, but it was great. :)

Bath time for the monkeys. Got to run. I'll try to be interesting tomorrow.

GOOD LUCK, E. I LOVE YOU. YOU'RE MAKING US SO PROUD BY DOING THIS. TAKE IT AS EASILY AS YOU CAN. CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU ON THURSDAY. :)

Sunday, July 26, 2009

I don't really feel like blogging. But here's a stupid story about me.

I know, right? What?

Yeah. I dunno. I really DID feel like blogging earlier today instead of tackling this frat-house I've been living in, but the anticipation of my shame when E came home and Lis brought her kids over made me keep cleaning all day. I actually sat down at the computer once and then thought better of it because my house was such a sty.

Yuck, I tell you.

I'm not the neatest person, but I don't really like it when the house is a mess. Let's just say that there was a big black pile of yuck in the sink with spoons sticking out of it at random intervals, and it had fur.

Yeah, you better shudder.

Speaking of fur (my, oh my that's a bad transition) the other reason for this post (besides CONSTANT use of parentheses and my whining about my lack of motivation to write anything tonight) is that I had a little episode with my razor this afternoon. Or I should say, without my razor.

Anybody who knows me more than two days learns that I am a little bit obsessive when it comes to leg shaving. Like, crazy. I can be camping and I will shave my legs. Winter? Yup, every day. Every single day if I can help it, come rain or sleet or snow. I'm like the US Postal service. Nothing can stop me. I JUST DON'T LIKE HAIRY LEGS. I've been this way since I started the process. I think a major contributing factor to my neurosis was the many, many, many years I spent as a ballet dancer--those pink tights are very unforgiving when it comes to stubble. Little spikes poking through the mesh? It makes my skin crawl. Let's not even talk about the pale shade of the tights.

I have to shave my legs EVERY DAY. I just do, okay? This has necessitated many a comic scene--balancing a tub of soapy water on the lid of the pit toilet in a few campgrounds, swinging a leg up so I could get my foot into the sink at the cabin (boiling water for warmth because the water heater was out), numerous yoga-like maneuvers in tiny shower stalls to get my foot up on the wall so I could manage it, DRY shaving when there is no other alternative. I'm committed, if nothing else. I get totally grossed out every winter when the girls in my dance classes go all Santa Cruz (it's their choice, fine,) BUT they have to talk about it! Why? Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew.

So the reason this is an issue today is that on Friday morning when I showered, my razor broke into about five parts right into my hand for no reason. No big deal, since I live within a 2 mile radius of at least 40 or 50 drugstores. The problem lies in the fact that I didn't shower yesterday (I know, ick--early morning soccer game, splashed some water on and took off, then fought against nature and didn't shave legs that night) and I also forgot to take care of BUYING A NEW RAZOR when I was out. Um, oops.

This afternoon after a few hours cleaning, I decided I smelled like the love child of Oscar the Grouch and Pigpen, so I turned on the shower. Then it hit me. NO RAZOR. I had just finished cleaning out the cupboards below the sink and my travel bag too, and chucked the travel razors I keep for emergencies. They were lying at the bottom of the garbage can outside, under that big black pile of yuck. Oh my heavens. No. My palms started to get sweaty. I'll just use E's... he won't mind this once, I thought. He'll understand. My heart stopped cold. E had taken his razor to his parents'. Defeated, I got in the shower. Great. I'm not about to drive to the store like this. I couldn't stand myself. I had to do something. I looked around, and I found one lone razor head sitting on top of the shower door. Just the top, the part with the blade.

Well...

I made do. What else is a girl going to do?

I held that little razor head between my fingers (it slipped out a thousand times, forcing me to have to retrieve it from the bottom of the shower and get all kinds of water up my nose and in my eyes), but I made it work.

It took me about FORTY-FIVE minutes to shower though. On the agenda for tomorrow? Hitting up the Walgreens before I leave town.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Synesthesia Links, or: Why I am a Weirdo, Pt II

If you're one of the three people who have been hanging around these parts for some time, you know that I have a thing called synesthesia. Specifically, grapheme-color synesthesia which means that when I see or think about numbers, I associate colors with them. You can read my original post about it here (scroll down to about halfway through the post.)




I've had this going on since I can remember. I only really told people about it a few years ago, because I didn't know it was something that other people had. I just thought it was something my brain did randomly. Let me tell you how I was in a total hurry to share with everyone I know what a freak I was... but I did find out that I'm not the only one, and now it's okay.

This is what my color spectrum looks like:


1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0


One is white, and zero is clear. Hard to show those on a page. The difference between 4 and 8 is slight. 4 is purplish-brown, while 8 is just purple.

Weird, huh? No, it isn't from Sesame Street. Or refrigerator magnets. It just IS. Unfortunately, you can't choose which colors go with which numbers, or I would have done them in rainbow order. And there would have been an orange. Poor orange. No orange.




Anyway, in Yosemite, E's Aunt Chris was telling me that she just watched a show on PBS about synesthesia. Through the PBS website, I found this video, which describes a few of the different kinds of synesthesia, and how they think it happens. If you just want to see the explanation, skip to about 3:00 in to the video.




Here's the link
to the article on the PBS page that I found kind of interesting. Hope you do too.


Friday, July 24, 2009

Pics of recent stuff

Thank the Good Lord for good sisters-in-law and good friends with cameras! Unfortunately, I still can't find my charger. LAME-O. Thankfully, April uploaded her pictures last night from Yosemite, and K sent me one from the museum trip today. Enjoy.

Yosemite

Kid squats--I put one up and then the other one needed something out of the backpack. Ouch!

Writing down the animal names at the Nature Center.







Talking to Daddy.















Yosemite Falls

Today

In front of the California Museum, where we went to see the Lincoln exhibit.

With Malice Toward None

Sounds like a good way to live life, right?

Well, it's also the name of the Library of Congress exhibit at the California Museum right now. The exhibit features many original documents related to Lincoln's presidency, and a few artifacts from his life, including one of his chairs, the items found in his pocket when he was assassinated, and a program from the Ford Theater with his blood stain on it. I was most impressed by the Lincoln Bible (Obama used it for his inaguration too) and by the copies of his speeches with his handwritten notes on them. It was cool. A little bit over Ad's head, but I think she liked it too.

She was pretty concerned over the idea of slavery (she wanted me to know that she never ever wants to be a slave) and she was pretty impressed by the idea that they "let" Obama take something out of a museum for his inaguration. Pretty cool, since she watched that happen on TV at school.

This is unrelated to Lincoln, but interesting as well. I thought I'd share with you some of the Google search phrases that bring people to my site. It's always kind of interesting to me. Here they are from this week, in order from lowest frequency to highest:
  • "Nah nah nah hey" or "nah nah nah nah hey hey hey" or many variations thereof: Brought people to this post about my new running shoes. It's funny, because when I wrote that, I had the OLD song stuck in my head. I was accidentally current. Whoops. I'm sure once they got here, it wasn't what they expected.
  • "Yosemite" Yeah. Love it. My most recent post: Back from Yosemite.
  • "PE is ruining my marriage." That could not make me laugh any harder. I hope they figured out why PE was ruining their marriage, but it led them to my post, Why PE screwed me up.
  • "Retrouvaille." I'm glad this one brings people here a lot. It's a great program and I totally believe in it. I think that E and I need to go and finish our post-sessions. I'll post about that in its own post sometime soon. Post.
  • "do sunny side up babies require a c-section?" In my case, yes. That phrase brought them to this post about Addie's birth.
  • "grocery list for dinners" Not sure where they ended up, but good luck. It's always kind of a crap shoot around here.
  • "puff pastry, asparagus, gruyere appetizer recipe" I didn't really mean to, but I find myself writing about (and eating) asparagus quite often. I'm also a total biter, and one of my best recipes is a tart that I got from Martha Stewart's Everyday Food. The recipe is here.
  • "alis grave nil meaning" It means "nothing is heavy to those who have wings." Nice, huh? Yeah, I liked it enough to make it the title of my blurg.
  • "strength finder themes" LOVE. THIS. BOOK. Very cool. You buy it, it tells you about your strengths and personality. You can read my profile here from after I bought it.
  • "zebra toes" This is one of the most frequent reasons I get visitors. You can read the post about the ill-fated zebra toe extravaganza here.
  • "hold glass water" brought people to this post which was a great email forward from my bestie.
  • "brown variegated yarn" Boy, doesn't get hotter than that. Wowzers. I'm ashamed that ranks so high on the list.
  • #1 search this week that brough people here? Jeez, this kills me because it is so uninteresting. Are you ready for it? "Meg in placerville soccer facebook." Right. Hope you find her, Googley.
Happy Friday you guys! Hope you're doing something awesome.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Crochet Pattern


Purple Passion Afghan
(AKA the only blanket you will ever make again. No, really.)

Difficulty

Easy

Size

40” x 60”

Materials

Coats & Clark Red Heart 4-ply yarn:
  • 6 (7 oz. skeins) super-saver yarn, solid color—YARN A (stripe and border color)
  • 7 (5 oz. skeins) variegated yarn—YARN B
Crochet hook size N

Note: Afghan is worked with 2 strands of yarn throughout and is worked in one piece. Afghan takes about 10-12 hours to complete.

Pattern

Beg with 1 strand each yarn A and yarn B. Ch 167.

Row 1: Sc in 2nd ch from hook, *ch 2, sk 2 chs, sc in next ch, rep from* across, turn.

Row 2: (Right side) Ch 3. Dc in first sc, (3 dc in next sc) rep across, ending with 2 dc in last sc, turn.

Row 3: (wrong side) Ch 1. Sc in first dc (ch 2, sc in center dc of 3 dc group) rep across, ending with sc in last dc (top ch of turning ch of previous row), turn.

Rep rows 2 and 3 nine more times. Fasten off Yarn B, attach another strand of Yarn A.

With two strands of Yarn A, rep rows 2 and 3 once and row 2 once more. Fasten off one strand of Yarn A and attach a strand of Yarn B.

With one strand of each color, rep row 3 once and rows 2 and 3 ten more times. Fasten off Yarn B, attach another strand of Yarn A.

With two strands of Yarn A, rep rows 2 and 3 once and row 2 once more. Fasten off one strand of Yarn A and attach a strand of Yarn B.

With one strand of each color, rep row 3 once and rows 2 and 3 ten more times. Fasten off both strands.


This is what the blanket looks like when made as described above.

The Good Border

With the right side facing, join on 2 strands of Yarn A with a sl st. Sc in first st *(ch 2, sk 2 st, sc) rep across to corner. At corner: sc ch1 sc ch1 sc.* Rep from around entire blanket. Flip blanket to wrong side.


Here it is. The border that will change your life.

With the wrong side facing, *sc in previous row’s sc, ch 3. Join with sl st at base of same ch 3 to form picot, sc in same previous row’s sc, ch 2. Rep from* around entire blanket. Fasten off yarn. Rejoice.

Variations
This pattern can be worked with two strands of a solid color rather than one of each, and then the stripe can be worked in the reverse. Sometimes I also change the pattern from 10 rows of each/ 2 row stripe/ 10 rows/ stripe/ 10 rows to 8 rows/5 row stripe/ 8/ 5/ 8. The possibilities are endless.



The new one. Worked with two strands of solid. The stripe will be five rows wide, worked with an orange/green/brown variegated yarn.


Scrap blanket, same stitch. Will be for Lis, if I ever finish it.
Don't like scraps.


Henry's blanket on his bed. Please note: the purple one pictured, this blue one, and Addie's pink one I DID NOT MAKE. The Bestie did. She's the one who gave me the pattern. I don't have many pics of blankets I've made, because I tend to give them all away. But I love the ones we have from her.


Another variation on the same pattern--same stitch, different row count. This one was for my mom. Too much work, switching colors that often. Haven't made another one like this since. :) I sure like it though.


Monkeys in bed with blankets from the Bestie.

That's it. Crochet overload? I can't help myself. Since I started making this pattern a few years ago, I can't make anything else. It's too good.


Things are looking up.

Things are looking up, oui? At least that's what I am going to convince myself with this handy-dandy list. Here goes.

REASONS WHY LIFE IS GOOD TODAY
  • E surprised me by coming home early last night and taking me to dinner.
  • Lunch with the bestie. Love her. Glad we could have lunch; it's been too long.
  • Abe Lincoln with K and Addie tomorrow.
  • Plenty of Froot Loops laying around the house, in teeny little boxes leftover from camping. I love fruit with a "ui", but froot with two "o"s is bomb. Diggity.
  • The cheap self-applied pink zebra-striped toenail polish has outlasted camping and laziness at home, and is still going strong two weeks later.
  • My kids rock. Right now they're playing Wii and I've heard the following two things in the last five minutes: "Henry, you're stinkin' weird" and "If you're going to choose salami and cheese, we're not going to be able to play anymore. That's the worst thing that could happen." What? Yeah, I don't get it either.
  • Mom and Dad. Pool. Lounge chair. Less than a mile away. Win.
  • All this running is making me tan. Side effect of being not 18: being not tan. Running has done some good work in that area. Not that I have done any running this week. Leave me alone.
  • Having a new radio station in town dedicated to the "oldies" of the 90's somehow validates my grown upness.
  • The California State Bar Exam is in FIVE DAYS! FIVE DAYS, I tell you. After that, I get my husband back. Woot.
  • I have a blog. I love my blog.
  • I love finding people on Facebook that I haven't heard from in a long time.
  • Tonight is the super-duper 100th episode of SYTYCD. I'm a little jazzed. Pun intended.
  • I just started crocheting the most beautiful green afghan. Contain your jealousy, though I know it will be difficult.
  • I'm nearing the end of The Thorn Birds (book, not movie) and while I'm in a hurry to see how it ends, I am dragging it out because it's too good and I know I'm going to be sad when Meggie, Fee, and Ralph leave me. At least I have the miniseries to look forward to. And to end my sentences in prepositions with.
  • Mad Men Season 2 came out on DVD recently. I still have a season and a half left of LOST. A full supply of TV to feed my addiction has been lined up. Score.
  • I am no longer sick. And there was much rejoicing. Yeeaaahh....






Wednesday, July 22, 2009

A Whole Lotta Nuthin'

Welcome to my blog, here's a post about a million and a half things, all on my addled little mind tonight. I figure in the spirit of full disclosure, I better mention I've had one lemon drop martini with dinner, then a coke and two mini-boxes of Apple Jacks when I got home. Healthy eating? What? Yeah. I'm in a good mood at least, even if it's artificial. (Note: E's home for the night, so that part of the good mood is real.)

No really. WOO.HOO. Here's to chemically-enhanced posting. Enjoy your Apple Jacks responsibly, kids.



First of all, THIS. Tyce Diorio's breast cancer-inspired piece tonight on So You Think You Can Dance. Beautifully, maturely, and delicately executed by Ade and Melissa. Very touching and technically performed in just the right way--so that the dance itself faded to the background and the meaning of the dance was what took center stage. It's like good writing--the mechanics of the story dissolve as it draws you in, but it takes flawless mechanics to highlight something powerful. Loved it. This is why I dance, and why I love watching good dance.




What else, what else? Lis called this morning and told me it was high time I marched my patoot out of the house because I was only contributing to my own misery by acting like Miss Havisham. (Lis, I think you need a blog. Just saying.) She was right. Two Cheeseburger Meal-therapy. We took the monkeys to McD and let them play in that Godforsaken room with the play structure that all moms hate love. WHY IS EVERYONE SHOUTING IN THERE? WHY DOES IT HAVE THE ACOUSTICS OF A TIN CAN? I DON'T KNOW.

I've been missing the bestie, like I said, for some time. Wondering what's been going on. We had a good email talk. I'm hoping I get to have lunch with her tomorrow. ::fingers crossed::

E and I had a fight. I was right, you know. I guess that's not really what's important. That's sure healthy, huh? Posting "I'm right" on your blog? Way to go, P. *high-fives self* But it was sure important to me this evening. Looooong, stupid fight. I hate the Bar. I hate law school. I hate that we've been separated and almost divorced. I even hate that we had a long distance relationship in college. Not fair, not fair, not fair. Marsha, Marsha, Marsha! That post from this morning was right. I've just been holding the glass of water too long. Time to put down these burdens and rest. We both just want a normal life SO BADLY right now.


So as long as I'm being random... about my anxiety episode in Yosemite. Here's what happened. A cautionary tale, if you will. I don't know who it is supposed to caution, but that's what I've got going tonight. Maybe husbands. Or people who might be camping with people who get anxious from time to time, though with much less frequency (or is it lower?) than they used to.

E texted me at about 9:30 AM saying exactly this: "You need to call me ASAP." Our phones were not "hearing" each other and his is a total P.O.S., so I did but he didn't answer. No big whoop, right? So I called the house. No answer. Called his phone again. Lather, rinse, repeat. No answer, no answer, no answer. Commenced freaking out.

If you worry, and I mean the serious kind that makes your chest cold and hands clammy and upper arms heavy and fingers tingle and ties you up in knots like that gold chain in the bottom of your jewelry box, then you know that feeling I had in my gut. I started off being just slightly concerned, but in the almost hour and a half that passed from the time he left the message until I heard his voice, I just got more and more anxed (not a word, but wouldn't it be a great one?) and I started to wonder if it was something wrong with him, or with my Grandma EV who has been having some fainting problems, or who knows who else in my family. By the time I talked to him, I was in the full throes of anxiety. PHYSICAL anxiety--the symptoms everyone feels when they get called to task by their boss, or called to the Principal's office, or pulled over by a cop. Not choosing it for myself, but feeling it from the inside, out.

The thing is when you have issues like this, it just takes longer for them to go away than it does for normal people. It's been a LONG time since I've had a bad one, and thankfully it could have been worse than it was, but I know now that if I get to a certain point the only thing I can do is wait it out. Ride it out. Whatever. Patience, because trying to worry about making it go away just makes it hang around. It's counter-productive. Typically this has happened to me more frequently at night, when it's easy to be at home. Not on vacay with the in-laws but no E. So unfortunate. When I spoke to E, he brushed off the worry, which only made it harder to concentrate on what he really wanted to talk to me about, which was just that there was an issue with me needing to transfer money from one of our accounts to the other.

Like I said, my issues are so much better than they used to be--I used to get the anxious feeling frequently and for no reason at all. This was actually about something. I just needed to wait for it to go away. Not so easy when your spouse is gone and you're with a bunch of people that don't really understand what's happening inside of you. They were gracious and accommodating, but anxiety is a difficult one. I can't help but feel like sometimes people think it's a choice--a deliberate decision to pout, or freak out, or whatever. Not everybody gets it. It's physical, and it takes time to go away. It took almost an hour and a half after I knew everything was okay for the physicality of it all to subside, and then I just crashed. I needed to sleep for hours. That day? Poof. Gone. Wasted.

I don't like it. I hate it. I'm thankful that it is so much better than it was when E and I were having major problems and I developed anxiety because I wasn't really dealing with what was wrong. I know why it happened while I was there--I missed E, I'm nervous about his test, I'm nervous about him finding a job in the meantime, and I was at the point where I'd been carrying that "glass of water" for too long and it just spilled over. Stress can be a driving force for me, but it can also lead to a kind of surface-tension that means I'm not equipped to handle things that shouldn't be as big of a deal as they end up being. One drop, and it spills over. That's just life for us, I guess. E has his own issues that are similar, and we just learn to live with them. I take a lot of comfort in knowing that things will all settle down very soon.

Lesson of the day: Have a code with your family for REAL emergencies and one for WE JUST NEED TO TALK SOON BECAUSE I'M PISSED OFF situations. It will help keep the freakout risk level at LOW. Keep it in the green zone, kids.


And now for something completely different. I'm going with my 10th grade history teacher my good friend K, to see With Malice Toward None: Abraham Lincoln Bicentennial Exhibit at the California Museum on Friday. Woohoo. Seriously, I'm excited. Who doesn't love a little Honest Abe?

My glass of water.

From the Bestie, who only sends the best email forwards, and somehow knows when I need them the most. I miss her so badly lately, and I wonder about her all the time. Hopefully this is a good sign and I'll get to catch up with her soon.


Stress

A lecturer when explaining stress management to an audience, raised a glass of water and asked;
'How heavy is this glass of water?'

Answers called out ranged from 20g to 500g.

The lecturer replied, 'The absolute weight doesn't matter.
It depends on how long you try to hold it.
If I hold it for a minute, that's not a problem.
If I hold it for an hour, I'll have an ache in my right arm.
If I hold it for a day, you'll have to call an ambulance.
In each case, it's the same weight, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it becomes.'

He continued,
'And that's the way it is with stress management.
If we carry our burdens all the time, sooner or later, as the burden becomes increasingly heavy,
We won't be able to carry on. '

'As with the glass of water,
You have to put it down for a while and rest before holding it again.
When we're refreshed, we can carry on with the burden.'
'So, before you return home tonight, put the burden of work down. Don't carry it home. You can pick it up tomorrow.

Whatever burdens you're carrying now,
Let them down for a moment if you can.'
So, my friend, Put down anything that may be a burden to you right n ow. Don't pick it up again until after you've rested a while.

Here are some great ways of dealing with the burdens of life:

* Accept that some days you're the pigeon,
And some days you're the statue.

* Always keep your words soft and sweet,
Just in case you have to eat them.

* Always wear stuff that will make you look good
If you die in the middle of it.

* Drive carefully. It's not only cars that can be
"Recalled" by their maker.

* If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.

* If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again,
It was probably worth it.

* It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to be kind to others.

* Never put both feet in your mouth at the same time,
Because then you won't have a leg to stand on.

* Nobody cares if you can't dance well.
Just get up and dance.

* When everything's coming your way,
You're in the wrong lane.

* Birthdays are good for you.
The more you have, the longer you live.

* You may be only one person in the world,
But you may also be the world to one person.

* Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once.

* We could learn a lot from crayons... Some are sharp, some are pretty and some are dull. Some have weird names, and all are different colors, but they all have to live in the same box.

*A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.

Have an awesome day and know that someone has thought about you today...I did.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

I like this.



I wonder if it is clich├ęd.