Tuesday, August 30, 2011

And so it goes...

So...the summer has ended and my stepdaughter has returned to her hometown to be with her mom for the school year. I would be lying if I said I had been fully prepared and excited at the prospect of having a child with us 24/7 for the summer, but I would also be lying now if I said I didn't miss that little stinker now that she is gone.

My husband is very dedicated to his new job, which is a great thing considering that is why we uprooted our lives, but it also means that he works a lot and that I spend a lot of time alone now. I have always always loved my "me time", but the phrase "too much of a good thing" comes to mind right now. It is a struggle for me not to pounce on him the minute he walks through the front door, begging and pleading for attention and acknowledgement of the things I have "accomplished" in his absence. Mostly, this is a lost cause, but I suppose this has always been the plight of the woman. Sigh.

Alone, unemployed, unacknowledged...I do find myself struggling with the old demons of depression. Questioning my purpose, the meaning of life, the end all be all of the what is. This is not to say that I am being swallowed up by depression...not even close. I'm happy. I'm just...lost? Nay...disoriented. I've been removed from all that I had become familiar with and comfortable with. Life, once again, threw me a curveball in the form of love for another human being and the committment that comes along with marriage and for the first time in my life...I had to be selfless and give up my own course of adventure to embark on someone else's. I know this is not a bad thing...but it is not an easy and swift transition to adapt to. It's a process and I am 100% at the very beginning of understanding and embracing it.

Last week, I had a CT scan of my abdomen and pelvis. The results showed some junk that may not necessarily belong there. As you might imagine, this adds a whole new dimension to my disoriented state of being. Facing this unknown obstacle, which may really turn out to be a non-issue, makes me feel grateful that I am not employed (I can focus on getting this resolved) and that I am closer to my family and friends in PA (my support system). Perhaps it is true what they say: "Everything happens for a reason".

Regardless...summer ends...autumn begins. In like an earthquake, out like a hurricane. Heh. And so it goes...

Bedtime Stories

This is how I know I married the right man for me...

**Warning--If you are mature, you may not appreciate this post.**

This summer, we have been reading bedtime stories all together--my husband, my stepdaughter and I. Each night, my stepdaughter will choose 2 books from her shelves for our shared reading pleasure. Generally, my husband will read his selection first and then it is my turn. Despite the fact that my stepdaughter will soon be 8, she has a tendency to choose books she has owned for many years, but that's ok...we still enjoy it.

My husband and I both tend toward an adolescent sense of humor about some things and I have come to the realization that children's books are full of innuendos for the immature adult. For example, he and I tend to get the giggles over a statement in a Sesame Street book in which Betty Lou offers Big Bird her "watering can". Not totally sure why this is SO funny...but since he got the giggles over it...I can no longer read the offending sentence without falling into hysterics.

Here are  some others that give us the giggles:

From Frosty the Snowman: "Round and round the snowy yard they rolled the snowballs. Soon they had two fine big ones."

From Curious George: "After a good meal and a good pipe, George felt very tired."

Ralph S. Mouse was always "polishing his chrome".

From The True Story of Balto: "at last he felt the package".

I am sure I could find plenty more for our immature chiding...but I have done enough to embarrass myself for now.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

I Blame My Husband for My Reading Habits

I have been an absent blogger lately. I think this is because I have been reading fiction. And the fiction I am reading is sad. And reading sad stuff does not lend itself well to comedic blogging inspiration.

I blame my husband for this. He's always all "Read a book" to me. And I do read books. Its just that I am that girl who goes to the library and stays amongst the non-fiction shelves. I am that girl with a sick addiction to self-help books. My husband hates this too because it sometimes makes me get all preachy when I say things like "According to so and so...you should so and so and why don't you?" Or then I am always trying to start these "programs" like "4 Weeks to a Better Body" or something, but I only ever make it past Day 1 and then I hate myself for weeks.

My husband always likes to remind me of the time that I borrowed The Fountainhead for like the whole first year we were dating and only managed to read about 32 pages. What can I say...I had a pretty big backlog of self-help books calling my name.

So, when we went to Turks and Caicos for one of my best friend's weddings, I pulled The Kite Runner off the shelf at home. Only...at the airport on  the way to Turks and Caicos, my husband informs me that the book is quite depressing and I'm all like "I don't want to be depressed so I will just read these trashy tabloid magazines instead." And so, The Kite Runner took a trip to Turks and Caicos without so much as a page flip. The Kite Runner is now in my bedside table waiting for the moment when I am ready to be depressed. Which may be sooner than later....cause what did I do last week??

Last week, I went to the library in my new town and I'm all "I'll show him I can read fiction" and I checked out two of the Most.Depressing.Books in the entire library. It only took me a few days to read Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay  (yes, this is out in movie form right now). This book was riveting and heartbreaking and I couldn't put it down, but it was about the Holocaust and the 1942 roundups of Jewish families living in France and well...there really isn't much uplifting about the Holocaust. But, you should read this book.

I am now reading The Hour I First Believed by Wally Lamb. I picked this one up because a decade or so ago, I read his first two books and well....he is decidedly one of THE BEST authors ever. This book is centered around the Columbine shootings...another uplifting event in the history of our times. Wally Lamb is such a good writer that I can actually imagine that I am there. In the library. With the shooters. I have nightmares about this.

Anyway...I am only about halfway through this 768-page book, so there will still be more depressing nights and nightmares to come. But, alas...its good stuff.

I need to find some good funny fiction, uplifting fiction, anything besides this next...suggestions and recommendations welcome!

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

The Art of Collecting Junk

My stepdaughter is something of a "collector". By this I mean...she likes to pick things up off the ground and stuff them in her pockets. She does this at school, at camp, on walks, in restaurants...anywhere. It doesn't matter where we are. If there is something on the ground that doesn't belong there, it now belongs to her. If there isn't miscellaneous trash or long lost trinkets to be excavated and collected, she will find some form of nature to take with her. Once, while walking around the lake near our temporary apartment, she picked up no less that 942 goose feathers. Ok...I'm exaggerating, but she did collect enough to make an impressive Indian headdress (though I am uncertain that goose feathers would be appropriate for this sort of project). We now have them stuffed in a shoebox for umm...safe keeping?

Being a "collector" isn't necessarily a bad thing and I would like to add that she has never picked up anything completely gross and disgusting, though I am not totally sure of the sanitary conditions of some of her findings. Where the problem arises for me...is that being the amazing domestic goddess that I am...I cannot seem to remember to do a pocket check before laundering clothes. Because of this,  I have washed leaves, flowers, rocks, coins (both real and fake), tissues, candy wrappers, plastic oddities, art projects, lip balm...the list goes on and on. Today, I spent an unreasonable amount of time digging individual beads (aka PixOs) from the bottom of the washing machine. The PixOs used to be shaped in some form of artwork, but alas...said artwork did not survive laundering. Oopsy. Hopefully,  the washing machine can survive the PixO invasion.

I am half-tempted to sew all her pockets shut because let's be real...I am never going to get the hang of doing a pre-wash pocket check no matter how many things I destroy or melt in the washing machine and dryer. Then again...let's be real some more...I am never gonna take the time to sew her pockets shut...so it looks like we will just have to continue  the collection game. She will continue to find treasures on the ground and I will continue to find treasures in the washing machine. And so it goes.