Days like today

There are days like today.


On days like today I can feel a rainbow of things just in a few minutes.


Like forgotten.








Clear, sharp and

              dull and clouded.





Jealous and greedy.




…and then the clock changes and another minute starts.


All I’ve ever asked is to be accepted for who and what I am. Putting this out there will no doubt accomplish exactly the opposite. Words that in their very existence serve as therapy will instead be used as evidence of my instability.


That’s fine. It’s what happens. It seems to me that the fact that I can acknowledge these inconsistencies about myself should in itself mean that I have at least base coping mechanisms.


But I suppose things are open to interpretation. In every sense of the word, from every angle it can be seen.


A line in the sand

So the thing about being more blogly has obviously not worked out the way I had hoped. Oh well.

I have, however, thought everyday about this. My corner of Internet that at one point was my entire identity.

It has gained me friends.
Lost me friends.
Documented marriage and birth and milestone.

I thought about giving it up.

But then I thought, “That’s stupid. This is mine.”

At some point, it turns out, I began writing for someone other than me. I’m not sure why. I had no illusion of fate or fame. Still don’t.

So in a nutshell, I’m not giving up my blog. Whatever else it may be – boring, pointless, narcissistic, depressing – it’s mine. And it may be the most comprehensive documentation of my life in the last ten years, so by god I’m keeping it.

Just touching base.

I remember Christmas

I am now embarking upon my 33rd Christmas season.

I’ve never been a Christmas nut, but I enjoy the season. I enjoy it more now than I ever have, although that probably shouldn’t be the case since now I have to worry about presents and money and Santa Claus.



Every year I am bombarded – often when I least expect it – by waves of memories I haven’t touched since the last year. It’s like I stockpile stuff and only think of it once a year – some of them aren’t even Christmas memories. Maybe it’s a getting-older thing, saving up good thoughts for times they’re needed.

But still, I remember.

I remember my Grandaddy Wilkes and how he always bought boxes of Andes candy. I would subsequently eat them, row by row. God only knows how many calories were involved.
I remember rides to Selmer and plastic mistletoe – always in the same spot.
Shining silver and comic paper gift wrap.
Black Friday shopping to buy all my presents from my Mimi – only to have to wait until Christmas to open them up.
Hiding under a green blanket while my mom and dad pulled all the presents out of hiding.
Sweet potato pie, even though I hated the very idea of a sweet potato.
My mother always making my sister and I pose for some weird ass photo outside by the mailbox or in a chair.
Mom’s Santas.
The smell of the attic – the smell of the ornaments.
Peanut butter rice krispie treats.
Ham. Always ham.
Chicken and dressing with a shitton of sage.
Neverending, persistent and endless renditions of “Mary Did You Know?”
Max’s first Christmas and putting a bow on his head.
Playing board games with Dan’s family into the wee hours of the morning.
Josh dressing up as Santa when the kids were small. Max was convinced Santa had found him.
My first Christmas with the Steens, my first time ever to have a stocking.
Josh’s grandmother and how she always bought my kids the perfect presents.

There are so many things.

Things to love about now.

Maybe this year I won’t forget.


Checking in

There’s a lot to be said for a sense of completion.

As of one more exam, I’m finished with half of this semester’s classes. This means I’m a little over 2 semesters away from my Bachelor’s.

When I look at it that way, it sounds like a long time. Hm.

Anyway, I’m actually enjoying my hiatus from daily blogging. It had started to feel like work, and I started to dread every day’s post. And even though I am a bit afraid that the whole use-it-or-lose-it thing may come into play at some point, I stand firm in the belief that saying nothing is better when you do it without words.


Darling Belle of the ball

I’ve told you before about my friend Amanda.

In the first years I knew Amanda, she was something of a mirage. I mean, she was just too perfect. If I were a lesbian and I hadn’t been in the lesbian-condemning phase of my life, I would have fallen in total love with her.

Which, in a way, I guess I did. Except not in that I want to see her naked or anything.

Amanda was (is) simply the most elegant and lovely person I’ve ever met. She always says we are so much alike, but she is everything that I am not. Poised and graceful and…neat and clean. Determined and beautiful.

Amanda, years ago now, moved to England to be with the darling man she loves. One who treats her like a goddess and never has a less than glowing word to say about her.

She finished school. She taught. She had some babies (two at once!).

Amanda has now started a business, one that is absolutely perfect for her in that it combines being lovely and stylish with making people happy and moving mountains.

Darling Belle Events’ blog launches today. My lovely friend has worked her metaphorical balls off to get things absolutely perfect – and she has succeeded.

I can’t be in London to buy her flowers or give her a hug, have champagne or stay up all night dancing.

I can, however, tell you that you want to see this. This is the wedding stuff that you pictured when you were a little girl (or boy), sprinkling flower petals and throwing rice (because we didn’t know until I was ten or so that rice made birds explode). This is the dream.



Back from the dead and phantom dialing

I would love to say that I’ve been quiet for so long because I’ve been busy doing spectacular things.

I haven’t. 

I gave myself one day off, and then it just sort of snowballed. And every day I would think about it, but I never really had anything to say. Then the next day would come, and I’d have even less to say.

Which I suppose is to say that I’ve let my mind rot for the last week or so.

I had a fantastic weekend, though. Remarkably so. You know how sometimes you can be around someone so much that you forget what made you want to be around them in the first place? Well, this weekend Josh and I became friends again. Not that we weren’t, but I think the weekend just made me remember why I love him so much.

Sap, sap, sap.

The hair thing is coming along. It’s now been almost three weeks since I have used shampoo on my hair, and I have to say, I’m loving it. My bangs tend to get a little oily, but the rest of my hair is coping just fine. It seems shinier and heavier, and feels healthier. May just be my imagination.

Lucy got a pink potty. She has only actually used it a handful of times, but she has delighted in transporting it to every room in the house.nnnnhxshhahassymyyasddgDdad,ad,d

And that, my friends, is what happens when The 911 calls to tell you that they’ve gotten 6000 calls from a phone and that they have “pinpointed it to your location, ma’am,” and the toddler picks up the keyboard and screeches after you “I got the ipad! I got the ipad!”


I didn’t find a phone. The lady from the 911 said that they had an open call and as soon as she started talking to me, it hung up. She was fairly certain that I was delusional and that my kid was dialing away under my nose.


I’ve got news for you, lady. This kid carries her potty to the kitchen and tries to eat her shoelaces. SHE IS INCAPABLE OF ESPIONAGE.

Nothing important

So today is my birthday. uy7777iuuuuuuuu8

See that? We got a new cat, and that’s his hello. His name is Charlie, and he successfully took over our house within about 1.8 seconds of his arrival.

I have wanted a cat for a long time, but there were issues…allergies and space and etc, but sometimes you have to say damn the torpedoes and do something.

My classes also began, and since I’m a real university goer now, things are…different.

I’m so sorry I’ve been so boring lately. It’s like the talky typey part of my brain has gone on vacation.

I do have some pictures, though.




For 2011

Since this is probably the last post I’ll write this year, there are some things I need to say.


As (what I loosely term) a writer, thank you for reading what I have to say. Even when it’s rambley and pointless, and even when I fail miserably at being entertaining. 


As a mother, thank you for the advice. For looking at pictures of my kids, reading about issues, and enduring things I think are hilarious or great just because I happen to be a mom.


As a student, thank you for your encouragement. 2011 has been a year of decisions, and the decision to go back to school is one I’m particularly proud of. If it hadn’t been for the cheerleading I’ve gotten I don’t know if I’d have made it.


As a potentially crazy person, thank you for making me realize that no matter how strange or off I feel, I can be honest about it and I’ll still have someone(s) on my side.