When I researched my ancestry in the past (for family trees for school or for the genealogical website Geni), I was anxious, yes anxious, to find tragedy or strangeness. I found a little:
Mary Jane Shannon (my great-great grandmother) was married seven times and gave all of her children away to the Arnold family in Illinois. She drowned in a creek.
Mary Whittenburg (another great-great grandmother) left her husband and family and moved to Wichita in the late 1800s to become a prostitue.
(I see a pattern with women named Mary leaving their families in the late 19th century. Remind me to never name my child Mary.)
Daniel Lentz (great-great grandfather) died in a house fire in 1902.
His mother, Catherine, (great-great-great grandmother) was a full-blood Pawnee living in Arlington, Kansas.
John Kliewer (great-great-great grandfather) was a much-in-demand coffin maker in Russia. Then he was a Dietrich Gaeddart immigrant to America in 1874.
This generation lags in drama. I mean, my family has so much drama--just like yours, I'm sure--but there have been no fires or great abandonments.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
INFP
(Introverted Feeling with Intuition)
"People with INFP preferences have a great deal of warmth, but may not show it until they know a person well. They keep their warm side inside, like a fur-lined coat. They are very faithful to duties and obligations related to ideas or people they care about. They take a very personal approach to life, judging everything by their inner ideals and personal values.
"They stick to their ideals with passionate conviction. Although their inner loyalties and ideals govern their lives, they find these hard to talk about. Their deepest feelings are seldom expressed; their inner tenderness is masked by a quiet reserve.
"In everyday matters they are tolerant, open-minded, understanding, flexible, and adaptable. But if their inner loyalties are threatened, they will not give an inch. Except for their work's sake, INFPs have little wish to impress or dominate. The people they prize the most are those who take the time to understand their values and the goals they are working toward.
"Their main interest lies in seeing the possibilities beyond what is present, obvious, or known. They are twice as good when working at a job they believe in, since their feeling puts added energy behind their efforts. They want their work to contribute to something that matters to them--human understanding, happiness, or health. They want to have a purpose beyond their paycheck, no matter how big the check. They are perfectionists whenever they care deeply about something.
"INFPs are curious about new ideas and tend to have insight and long-range vision. Many are interested in books and language and are likely to have a gift of expression; with talent they may be excellent writers. They can be ingenious and persuasive on the subject of their enthusiasms, which are quiet but deep-rooted. They are often attracted to counseling, teaching, literature, art, science, or psychology.
"The problem for some INFPs is that they may feel such a contrast between their ideals and their actual accomplishments that they burden themselves with a sense of inadequacy. This can happen even when, objectively, they are being as effective as others. It is important for them to use their intuition to find ways to express their ideals; otherwise they will keep dreaming of the impossible and accomplish very little. If they find no channel for expressing their ideals, INFPs may become overly sensitive and vulnerable, with dwindling confidence in life and in themselves."
Do you want to know me? You pretty much do now. I took the Myers-Briggs test in middle school, and this is what it told me I was. I just found it in a folder marked "career stuff." As I read it, I was continually dropping my jaw lower. Yes, this is me. Wow, it even suggests writer? teacher? This is who I've been all along, huh? It's funny that I found this because today I realized something I knew but didn't really know: that I am diligent about keeping promises/deadlines for everyone and everything...except when I'm the one making promises to myself. It's like I don't take myself seriously enough or respect myself enough to hold myself accountable for goals or promises. This is a flaw. It's the reason the writing hasn't kept up. It's the reason I'm still flabby. It's the reason I keep spending more than I make. It's the reason I feel so disjointed.
That's a beauty. Realizing yourself by looking from the outside. This explains a lot, actually. Thank you, silly little career-personality-test-thing that I thought was cool but irrelevant a decade ago.
Monday, August 24, 2009
quoting SRS
I think, perhaps, I should have been born his daughter. Or niece. Or neighbor. Yes, neighbor, that would do.
"Meanwhile my eyes are also feasting. That is a favorite saying of my mother's: Something-or-other is a feast for the eyes. Like most proverbial sayings, it has been worn slick by too many tongues; and this is because, like most sayings, it names a truth. The truth here is one the mountain reminds me of: I have a hunger for nonhuman spaces, not out of any distaste for humanity, but out of a need to experience my humanness the more vividly by confronting stretches of the earth that my kind has had no part in making. I feast atop Mount June, on a jonathan apple, on vision."
--from "Feasting on Mountains" by Scott Russell Sanders.
This is how I feel when I'm in the mountains. This is why I crave it. I crave the silence, the big. I love the city (Chicago) because of the energy and beauty of water amid metal and glass. Man-made H&M and all those other shops and buildings, I love and wonder at. I feel there; I feel confidence and the power of doing. But I cannot feel awe and true power and understanding except in the nothing of man. The mountains, the true earth, that is home. Mountains and water running down hill, all down and life and the living of souls. My soul. Whatever soul I have is not in any city but sunlit sides of hills and mountains and over and under green.
"Meanwhile my eyes are also feasting. That is a favorite saying of my mother's: Something-or-other is a feast for the eyes. Like most proverbial sayings, it has been worn slick by too many tongues; and this is because, like most sayings, it names a truth. The truth here is one the mountain reminds me of: I have a hunger for nonhuman spaces, not out of any distaste for humanity, but out of a need to experience my humanness the more vividly by confronting stretches of the earth that my kind has had no part in making. I feast atop Mount June, on a jonathan apple, on vision."
--from "Feasting on Mountains" by Scott Russell Sanders.
This is how I feel when I'm in the mountains. This is why I crave it. I crave the silence, the big. I love the city (Chicago) because of the energy and beauty of water amid metal and glass. Man-made H&M and all those other shops and buildings, I love and wonder at. I feel there; I feel confidence and the power of doing. But I cannot feel awe and true power and understanding except in the nothing of man. The mountains, the true earth, that is home. Mountains and water running down hill, all down and life and the living of souls. My soul. Whatever soul I have is not in any city but sunlit sides of hills and mountains and over and under green.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
and again it begins
The last fall semester of my career as a student started today. But I am done with coursework and am only taking a practicum in the teaching of creative writing for one hour a week. That wasn't today. So my semester of teaching starts tomorrow at 11am.
It will be good.
I met with the career counselor for an hour today, and my homework/research is looking into the publishing world.
Here's an article that was very helpful and informative about going into publishing. It made me feel better about this option (I already felt good--I just didn't know anything about it). Working in Publishing by Hope Smith.
I wish the day wasn't over. I have more writing I want to do. But tomorrow is going to be a tiring day of teaching directly to Lenexa for work directly to Jedsen's for love. I remember being exhausted after my first day of teaching last year--even though I wasn't actually teaching them anything yet. It's the standing up there and talking all the time and thinking constantly.
It will be good.
I met with the career counselor for an hour today, and my homework/research is looking into the publishing world.
Here's an article that was very helpful and informative about going into publishing. It made me feel better about this option (I already felt good--I just didn't know anything about it). Working in Publishing by Hope Smith.
I wish the day wasn't over. I have more writing I want to do. But tomorrow is going to be a tiring day of teaching directly to Lenexa for work directly to Jedsen's for love. I remember being exhausted after my first day of teaching last year--even though I wasn't actually teaching them anything yet. It's the standing up there and talking all the time and thinking constantly.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
where i'll be
I was given a serious dose of reality earlier today, and I appreciated it. Thank you, Joe Harrington.
What kind of academic do you want to be?
I enjoy writing. Ideally, I would write all the time and get really good and make a living at it. I want to be surrounded by writers. I need to be surrounded by writers to inspire me and keep me believing that people do write even in the middle of lives like mine. (Thank you, Bathtub!) Now, does that put me in the academy or someplace else, like book publishing?
I don't know.
That's why I'm going to my first career counseling appointment tomorrow morning. I want to know what I want to do. What I can do. I want to know where I'll be in nine months. Still here in Lawrence? On the job market? Headed for a non-academic job? The career counselor is hopefully going to help me figure out my specific trajectory, and then I will take that knowledge to the job placement adviser, who will help with the actual job-getting, if need be.
But the immediate thing, the thing that will help me get a job in the end, is my thesis. My book. That's the business. I have to get on it, get back to it. Ben Cartwright wrote a pertinent and target-hitting blog this evening, inspired by the same meeting: What kind of habit do you have?. My new habit is writing a blog entry every day because, hey, it's writing. And then that frees up my mind for more writing, more creation. It's a habit I'm starting because other things haven't turned into habits. I need the every day habit that I don't have.
And now I'll quote Michael L. Johnson who reminded us today of his experience in a psychologist's office. "How's the writing going?" the psych. asked. "It's not," he replied. "Well, that's your problem." And he never went back to the psych.
All the anxiety, the stress, the imbalance, could that be because I'm not writing? Because I haven't even been journaling for the last four years like I did for my first twenty when I didn't have anxiety? Could it be that choosing to write has made it less of a necessity for me in everyday life? That's backwards. Let's turn it around, I say. Turn it upside down and write for the need and the want and the have to.
Okay, now I'm going to quote Oprah quoting Gary Zuvak in The Seat of the Soul: "When we align our thoughts, emotions, and actions with the highest part of ourselves, we are filled with enthusiasm, purpose, and meaning... When the personality comes fully to serve the energy of its soul, that is authentic empowerment." Is it wrong that Oprah is my spiritual guidance? I'm not aligned. Once I lost my faith, the Methodist faith that I had lived for twenty-one years, not knowing how not to believe, I lost my center. You can be spiritual without believing in God. Spiritual for me is nature, mountains, living Earth. Yoga may be spiritual (I'll find out soon). I feel so disconnected from everything--I give everything to everything else and am left with a not knowing me. I'm left without me when I give all of my time to work and school and not me and being and writing. "Writing is selfish," Johnson reminded us again today. I need to be more selfish in that way. It's too important.
What kind of academic do you want to be?
I enjoy writing. Ideally, I would write all the time and get really good and make a living at it. I want to be surrounded by writers. I need to be surrounded by writers to inspire me and keep me believing that people do write even in the middle of lives like mine. (Thank you, Bathtub!) Now, does that put me in the academy or someplace else, like book publishing?
I don't know.
That's why I'm going to my first career counseling appointment tomorrow morning. I want to know what I want to do. What I can do. I want to know where I'll be in nine months. Still here in Lawrence? On the job market? Headed for a non-academic job? The career counselor is hopefully going to help me figure out my specific trajectory, and then I will take that knowledge to the job placement adviser, who will help with the actual job-getting, if need be.
But the immediate thing, the thing that will help me get a job in the end, is my thesis. My book. That's the business. I have to get on it, get back to it. Ben Cartwright wrote a pertinent and target-hitting blog this evening, inspired by the same meeting: What kind of habit do you have?. My new habit is writing a blog entry every day because, hey, it's writing. And then that frees up my mind for more writing, more creation. It's a habit I'm starting because other things haven't turned into habits. I need the every day habit that I don't have.
And now I'll quote Michael L. Johnson who reminded us today of his experience in a psychologist's office. "How's the writing going?" the psych. asked. "It's not," he replied. "Well, that's your problem." And he never went back to the psych.
All the anxiety, the stress, the imbalance, could that be because I'm not writing? Because I haven't even been journaling for the last four years like I did for my first twenty when I didn't have anxiety? Could it be that choosing to write has made it less of a necessity for me in everyday life? That's backwards. Let's turn it around, I say. Turn it upside down and write for the need and the want and the have to.
Okay, now I'm going to quote Oprah quoting Gary Zuvak in The Seat of the Soul: "When we align our thoughts, emotions, and actions with the highest part of ourselves, we are filled with enthusiasm, purpose, and meaning... When the personality comes fully to serve the energy of its soul, that is authentic empowerment." Is it wrong that Oprah is my spiritual guidance? I'm not aligned. Once I lost my faith, the Methodist faith that I had lived for twenty-one years, not knowing how not to believe, I lost my center. You can be spiritual without believing in God. Spiritual for me is nature, mountains, living Earth. Yoga may be spiritual (I'll find out soon). I feel so disconnected from everything--I give everything to everything else and am left with a not knowing me. I'm left without me when I give all of my time to work and school and not me and being and writing. "Writing is selfish," Johnson reminded us again today. I need to be more selfish in that way. It's too important.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
pretend
I pretended to be a new KU student tonight. I went to the Hawk Week RecFest with my friend Beth (a new student but not freshman) and her boyfriend Adam (a KU alum). I fit in but didn't feel it. I got free things. I got bombarded by sororities and Christian groups. I learned, again, that I don't like big crowds, especially when I feel out of place.
All in all, though, it was fun with friends on a lovely evening. I'm not as scared of the Rec Center now. I was only intimidated of it before because it's large and full and somewhat crowded in place. I will conquer it. Yes, on the treadmill, track, yoga class, weight machines, and Zumba.
All in all, though, it was fun with friends on a lovely evening. I'm not as scared of the Rec Center now. I was only intimidated of it before because it's large and full and somewhat crowded in place. I will conquer it. Yes, on the treadmill, track, yoga class, weight machines, and Zumba.
Monday, August 17, 2009
blurry
Or, eye strain. Or, my shoulders and neck are so stiff that my eyes can feel it. Why? Lesson planning, syllabus editing, schedule finishing. All afternoon and evening except for a break to go to work and ship lots of books and another break to watch Friends (which turned into a 1.5 hr break because I got caught up in the Great American Road Trip). Eye strain is not good. At least it's better here, at home, though, than in the office at The DB.
So I'm feeling good about the upcoming semester. I have a grasp on it all, on how it all fits together...except for the yet-to-be-determined final unit...but that's a worry several months away.
The writing. Meteorology. Let's focus.
RecFest tomorrow night and the start of my yoga life. I'm finally going to do it: buy a KU Fit pass and go to group workout sessions. Mainly yoga, sunrise yoga. I need it badly, and I've been wanting to do it but haven't found an affordable option until I decided to brave the mass of undergrads in the rec. It will be good. Great. Refreshing. Enlivening.
I can't focus on anything right now because I'm thinking about bed and how the last time I looked at the clock it was already 11:00 and I thought that was late but now it's 11:48 and that's too late for a good night's sleep but there's no sense in worrying about that now because that's just how it's going to be. Again. And with that, I'm shutting down.
So I'm feeling good about the upcoming semester. I have a grasp on it all, on how it all fits together...except for the yet-to-be-determined final unit...but that's a worry several months away.
The writing. Meteorology. Let's focus.
RecFest tomorrow night and the start of my yoga life. I'm finally going to do it: buy a KU Fit pass and go to group workout sessions. Mainly yoga, sunrise yoga. I need it badly, and I've been wanting to do it but haven't found an affordable option until I decided to brave the mass of undergrads in the rec. It will be good. Great. Refreshing. Enlivening.
I can't focus on anything right now because I'm thinking about bed and how the last time I looked at the clock it was already 11:00 and I thought that was late but now it's 11:48 and that's too late for a good night's sleep but there's no sense in worrying about that now because that's just how it's going to be. Again. And with that, I'm shutting down.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
hidden lawrence
I've been on walks in Lawrence before. Not as many as I should have been on in the last two years I've lived here, though. I usually walk north, to the river or around there. This morning I took off headed west on 9th street, up the big hill to where it meets Iowa, with no particular destination or direction in mind. Just after starting the climb, I crossed Avalon, a street that I have never looked south down. I decided to try it.
As I walked down the tree-lined, foliage-flanked street, I looked at the houses and the landscaping. I looked at the trees. I saw a neon orange bug or spider cross in front of me. I should have stopped to observe it, but I was caught up in the hidden part of Lawrence. Or, it's not really hidden, but it's not a street I would ever need to drive down, and it made me realize how little I look around when I am driving (which, I guess, is actually a good thing). I saw one house in particular that looked practically new and was for sale. It was set back and down, surrounded by trees, with three levels and loads of windows. It was empty and beautiful. I didn't stop to stare like I wanted, and I didn't go up close to it to look for fear of looking suspicious (I was wearing a baseball cap after all), but I looked left as I walked straight and nearly fell several times, not looking down at the drops in sidewalk. I could live there. Jedsen and I have been talking lately about houses and locations (not for "us" but just wants). I don't want to live in the country, in a rural area, and I thought I wanted to live in a city. More and more, though, through my reading and reflection this summer, I have decided that I don't want to live in a suburb or a neighborhood with house next to house, with touching, fenced backyards and no windows on the sides for the sake of privacy. My house needs to be set off. Nature will be my neighbor. If/when I have kids, I want them growing up not on pavement but wildflowers and vines. I want them to appreciate and care for nature and know a world beyond buzzing streets and malls. That is my wish.
So while the house I came upon is still very much in the center of Lawrence, it has some of those elements. And, actually, as I discovered today, many parts of the neighborhoods directly to the west and south of my apartment are set right in the thick of wood-like nature. Oh, all the mature trees and flowers and little creeks and green, all green. My apartment is at the base of a hill, and while I new there were houses lining 9th street on the side of it, I thought they all ended shortly in dead ends like my side of Avalon does. I found out this morning that that is not the case at all. I actually thought there was a golf course up there, (and there may be, but I didn't find it) but there are houses, interesting houses probably built in the 1970s but again all surrounded in vegetation.
You learn your home on feet. I've known it, I've experienced it before, but it came to life for me in earnest this morning. I've been ignorant and deprived by not exploring my home and knowing it. Scott Russell Sanders tells of the importance of knowing your town, your state, your neighborhood in A Conservationist Manifesto and in places in Secrets of the Universe.
I know you a little better today, Lawrence, and I appreciate you better for it. I appreciate the conservation in the middle of the city. The new west Lawrence doesn't have that. West Lawrence may have beautiful, new homes, but they're close together and tree-less, lifeless. I'm satisfied with the part of Lawrence I've made my home, the hilly, covered part with a more retro flair.
As I walked down the tree-lined, foliage-flanked street, I looked at the houses and the landscaping. I looked at the trees. I saw a neon orange bug or spider cross in front of me. I should have stopped to observe it, but I was caught up in the hidden part of Lawrence. Or, it's not really hidden, but it's not a street I would ever need to drive down, and it made me realize how little I look around when I am driving (which, I guess, is actually a good thing). I saw one house in particular that looked practically new and was for sale. It was set back and down, surrounded by trees, with three levels and loads of windows. It was empty and beautiful. I didn't stop to stare like I wanted, and I didn't go up close to it to look for fear of looking suspicious (I was wearing a baseball cap after all), but I looked left as I walked straight and nearly fell several times, not looking down at the drops in sidewalk. I could live there. Jedsen and I have been talking lately about houses and locations (not for "us" but just wants). I don't want to live in the country, in a rural area, and I thought I wanted to live in a city. More and more, though, through my reading and reflection this summer, I have decided that I don't want to live in a suburb or a neighborhood with house next to house, with touching, fenced backyards and no windows on the sides for the sake of privacy. My house needs to be set off. Nature will be my neighbor. If/when I have kids, I want them growing up not on pavement but wildflowers and vines. I want them to appreciate and care for nature and know a world beyond buzzing streets and malls. That is my wish.
So while the house I came upon is still very much in the center of Lawrence, it has some of those elements. And, actually, as I discovered today, many parts of the neighborhoods directly to the west and south of my apartment are set right in the thick of wood-like nature. Oh, all the mature trees and flowers and little creeks and green, all green. My apartment is at the base of a hill, and while I new there were houses lining 9th street on the side of it, I thought they all ended shortly in dead ends like my side of Avalon does. I found out this morning that that is not the case at all. I actually thought there was a golf course up there, (and there may be, but I didn't find it) but there are houses, interesting houses probably built in the 1970s but again all surrounded in vegetation.
You learn your home on feet. I've known it, I've experienced it before, but it came to life for me in earnest this morning. I've been ignorant and deprived by not exploring my home and knowing it. Scott Russell Sanders tells of the importance of knowing your town, your state, your neighborhood in A Conservationist Manifesto and in places in Secrets of the Universe.
I know you a little better today, Lawrence, and I appreciate you better for it. I appreciate the conservation in the middle of the city. The new west Lawrence doesn't have that. West Lawrence may have beautiful, new homes, but they're close together and tree-less, lifeless. I'm satisfied with the part of Lawrence I've made my home, the hilly, covered part with a more retro flair.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
saturday
Back to Josh Rouse: "Saturday." I can't post a link to the song/video because there isn't a good one on youtube. There isn't enough Josh Rouse on youtube. You know how for many artists you can type in a song and there will be some montage of photos or the album art as background for just the recording of the song. That's what I wanted for you, but you're not getting it.
I'm thinking of "Saturday" because it's Saturday and because I keep going back to Switzerland at the end of May 2005 when I was listening to his album Nashville on the top bunk of our hotel room. It was an "extra" room, set off from the hotel, and three of us girls got it. It was just outside Lucerne, and it was raining when we got there by bus. (It's raining today.) When it stopped raining, we went walking and found cows and nice houses by a lake. The house on a lane on the lake had a fancy alarm system, and we were impressed. You have to be rich to live in Switzerland. And that was proven to be fact the next day when we took a walking tour of Lucerne and were told just how expensive it is to live in Switzerland. I want to be able to afford to live in Switzerland. So that night, after our walk and dinner at the outside tables, I listed to my tape player (yes, no CD player at this point, much less MP3 player). I was to be going home on a Saturday from London, back to Jedsen at Wichita's Midcontinental Airport. I didn't want to go home; Europe was bliss. But I did miss Jedsen and couldn't help but sing "Saturday I'm on that plane I'm flying home to you" along with Josh.
Jedsen's not here today, and I'm not there with him. This is the last weekend before the semester begins, and I have a lot to catch up on. We have to say that, now and then, unfortunately. I can't spend the whole weekend with you because I have too much to do. Also unfortunate is the fact that we can't really get any work done when we're together in the same apartment. Going to separate rooms doesn't even work. So we have to stay in our separate cities. I love the rain, and I love Saturdays. And I wish Jedsen and I could work and write together so we could sit here and smell the rain together.
So I'm sappy. Sometimes.
I also love shopping, though I've slowed it down, way down, recently. I went out to get necessities earlier--like underwear and food--and knew that something was different when I pulled into the Walmart parking lot. Of course this is the weekend when everyone comes back. Well everyone was at Walmart, and I feel instant dread when I walk into a crowded shopping place like that. I like my space when browsing. I managed to get half of my shopping list before hurrying out. I can go without orange juice until, perhaps, early Sunday morning when people aren't out yet.
And an update on breakfast. Well, I'm calorie conscious now. Not just fake interested but seriously concerned about trying to stay under 1200 calories/day. I won't lie: I loved my morning sausage biscuits, homemade. They were delicious and kept me full longer than cereal. But then I actually made myself look at the calorie counts on the biscuits and sausages and realized, with horror, that I was probably consuming an 800 calorie breakfast for nearly every day for a month. This prompted a look into my favorite fast food breakfast: sausage and egg biscuit from McDonald's. 550 calories. That makes me sad, McDonald's. So when I had breakfast there with my friend Beth last week, I got an egg biscuit without the sausage, and it took me back to the days when my mom would walk to Braum's many mornings and get us egg biscuits or hot cakes. It may have taken me 24 years, but I'm starting to truly understand food now. And the physical consequences on my body.
I sat outside on the patio earlier when it started raining. God, I love it here. I did laundry, and when I went to get my clothes out of the dryer, the hallway where the washer and dryer is was smokey. I think the dryers are faulty here, and that's not my only evidence. But that's outside the apartment. Here, I love.
I'm thinking of "Saturday" because it's Saturday and because I keep going back to Switzerland at the end of May 2005 when I was listening to his album Nashville on the top bunk of our hotel room. It was an "extra" room, set off from the hotel, and three of us girls got it. It was just outside Lucerne, and it was raining when we got there by bus. (It's raining today.) When it stopped raining, we went walking and found cows and nice houses by a lake. The house on a lane on the lake had a fancy alarm system, and we were impressed. You have to be rich to live in Switzerland. And that was proven to be fact the next day when we took a walking tour of Lucerne and were told just how expensive it is to live in Switzerland. I want to be able to afford to live in Switzerland. So that night, after our walk and dinner at the outside tables, I listed to my tape player (yes, no CD player at this point, much less MP3 player). I was to be going home on a Saturday from London, back to Jedsen at Wichita's Midcontinental Airport. I didn't want to go home; Europe was bliss. But I did miss Jedsen and couldn't help but sing "Saturday I'm on that plane I'm flying home to you" along with Josh.
Jedsen's not here today, and I'm not there with him. This is the last weekend before the semester begins, and I have a lot to catch up on. We have to say that, now and then, unfortunately. I can't spend the whole weekend with you because I have too much to do. Also unfortunate is the fact that we can't really get any work done when we're together in the same apartment. Going to separate rooms doesn't even work. So we have to stay in our separate cities. I love the rain, and I love Saturdays. And I wish Jedsen and I could work and write together so we could sit here and smell the rain together.
So I'm sappy. Sometimes.
I also love shopping, though I've slowed it down, way down, recently. I went out to get necessities earlier--like underwear and food--and knew that something was different when I pulled into the Walmart parking lot. Of course this is the weekend when everyone comes back. Well everyone was at Walmart, and I feel instant dread when I walk into a crowded shopping place like that. I like my space when browsing. I managed to get half of my shopping list before hurrying out. I can go without orange juice until, perhaps, early Sunday morning when people aren't out yet.
And an update on breakfast. Well, I'm calorie conscious now. Not just fake interested but seriously concerned about trying to stay under 1200 calories/day. I won't lie: I loved my morning sausage biscuits, homemade. They were delicious and kept me full longer than cereal. But then I actually made myself look at the calorie counts on the biscuits and sausages and realized, with horror, that I was probably consuming an 800 calorie breakfast for nearly every day for a month. This prompted a look into my favorite fast food breakfast: sausage and egg biscuit from McDonald's. 550 calories. That makes me sad, McDonald's. So when I had breakfast there with my friend Beth last week, I got an egg biscuit without the sausage, and it took me back to the days when my mom would walk to Braum's many mornings and get us egg biscuits or hot cakes. It may have taken me 24 years, but I'm starting to truly understand food now. And the physical consequences on my body.
I sat outside on the patio earlier when it started raining. God, I love it here. I did laundry, and when I went to get my clothes out of the dryer, the hallway where the washer and dryer is was smokey. I think the dryers are faulty here, and that's not my only evidence. But that's outside the apartment. Here, I love.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
overflowing bathtub
First of all, get this:
http://bathtubcollective.blogspot.com/2009/08/you-know-how-we-do.html
We're presenting at AWP in April 2010 in Denver! Agh!
We're pumped.
http://bathtubcollective.blogspot.com/2009/08/you-know-how-we-do.html
We're presenting at AWP in April 2010 in Denver! Agh!
We're pumped.
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