writing on napkins

On a roll…kept going…decided to touch up the kitchen paint…so proud of myself (red flag #1)…slathered on that pale blue all over the scuffs where highchair used to be…oh let me just get a few more I see….hmmmm…stepping back…sure looks darker when it’s wet….I’ll move the fan to dry it faster…wait, wait, WAIT….NOOOOOOO…this can’t be…check paint can…name of paint…RIVER ROCK…sounds about right but I thought it was ICY something or other…is there a date on this…things are clicking…but no, this wouldn’t happen…I made sure to grab the right can…oh no…paint mixed in 2009…this room was painted in 06…where is there another blue like this…quick mental scan of the house…oh BOLLOX! (ok that’s censored) the MASTER BATH..defeat…no, the right can must be down there…run run…sweat sweat…slosh slosh…the air conditioner is leaking again…rummage rummage, please please….no no no NO.  crap.  Home Depot this afternoon it is.  Nothing is ever easy.

I heard two friends talking.  One said to the other, “She’s a professional Organizer.  She’s amazing.  She’s done all of my closets.  It’s awesome.”

I have no doubt she’s amazing and it’s awesome.  But what a weird thing.  We have so much stuff we need someone to organize it.  Isn’t this kind of ludicrous.  I’d love for someone to make sense of my pantry, redo the shelving in my storage closet, find the bottom of my dresser drawers.  But I know in about 2 weeks that beautiful organization would soon become my beautiful disaster…because that’s how I roll.

The notion that we have professionals who come into our homes and organize really seems indicative of our excess, our overindulgence, our need to trim the fat.  I’m not being judge-y.  I forgot to mention I heard this conversation at a garage sale while I was looking for more stuff…stuff I don’ need. I turned away from the giant vintage iron milk jug immediately.  But I still kind of wish I had bought it.  Then, I’d need an interior space planner to help me figure out the best spot for it.

So, there are professional organizers…and a quick google search showed me there is a National Association of Organizers and a Board Certification for the trade.  I’m all but certain the founding members of this trade are a bunch of older sisters. This had to be the brain child of an older sister just like mine…who begrudgingly had to share a room with me, the messy little sister for 10+ years.  I have a treasure box of memories that include cat fights over my blacklight poster menagerie, “bonding”sessions instigated by Lisa pulling everything out from under my bed so we could organize together (yippee), and nearly breaking my tailbone while falling on her freshly pledged her side of the wood floors.  I mean, we just tortured each other…but we loved it.  She was the babysitter who alphabetized your CDs, DVDs and soup cans when the baby went to sleep. She has scrap books and photo albums.  I have digital photos and aspirations. To this day, when I have a closet that needs an overhaul…I know who to call.

So, look at me.  There I was thinking those ladies so silly for having a professional Organizer and I’ve had one my whole life.  Thanks, Lisa!

One of my favorite authors wrote that the two best prayers are, “Thank You. Thank You. Thank You.” and “Help me. Help me. Help me.”

I continue to find that incredibly profound, and when the guilt of lack of prayer creeps in and combines with my unfounded pressure to be eloquent in prayer, I stop and just say.

Thank You. (breathe)

Thank You. (breathe)

Thank You!

(sigh)

Help me! Help me! Help me!

I wish I were funny.

I was at a brainstorming meeting last night. The 3 guys there were really really funny.  They’ve kind of made a career out of humor.  It is a gift I don’t have.  Wit, sure.  Sarcasm, unfortunately yes. But funny…not so much.  These guys had my stomach hurting at times and they were just chatting.

Thought I would share their blogs so you can get a laugh to day…

Jon Acuff’s Stuff Christian’s Like

Tripp Crosby

Tyler Stanton

I wonder why medicine that is going to make you feel better has to make you feel sick in other ways.  The side effects section on prescriptions always makes me nervous.  I think fairly recently, they’ve added a clause that says your doctors feels the benefits outweigh the risk of these side effects.  Is that comforting?  It really isn’t to me. I lost sleep while I was pregnant because the medication I use to keep my asthma under control had a very very very slight risk of causing cleft palates in the baby.  I researched it like crazy and found I’d have to be walking around popping the pills like m&m’s all day for the risk to even begin to present itself.  It was found in lab rats when they were given something like 9000 x’s the recommended dosage.  Still, I was hugely relieved at the 20 week ultrasound when they checked for it and there were no abnormalities.

I’m not good at weighing the risk/reward scenario.  There are just too many unknowns.  I know this to be a trust issue for me…a control issue even.  But instead of learning and easing up on this as I get older, I feel more decisions headed my way at an alarming rate that just wear this brain muscle out before it can heal from the side effects of the last lesson learned.

What is it with words like this?  Why don’t they sound like they are spelled?  Who decided there would be words that look completely different than they sound?  Did it start as a joke…like a bunch of dudes were sitting down writing the dictionary and thought, “This will stump them!”  Okay, I know it didn’t happen like that and there are reasons and latin and hebrew origins, etc., etc.  But wouldn’t it make sense to change these words???  If ‘ain’t’ and ‘LOL’ can make it onto dictionary.com…then certainly we throw a little mercy catsup’s way.

I often wonder what the heck I did with all the time I had in college.  I mean, what a waste I must have been.  Hours and hours and hours and hours of free time and I likely took too many naps, skipped too many classes and, let’s be honest, drank too many beers.  Ugh.  If I could just have that time back again…I would…I would…hmmm….what would I do?  I was broke.  I didn’t have a house.  I didn’t have a husband or a baby or even a dog.  I didn’t work out regularly.  I would change that, I guess.  I would have just DONE more, you know?  I would have taken more day trips to random places not knowing what I would find.  I would have more conversations with the most intriguing person I could find at a coffee shop.  I would walk through the forest preserve every Saturday in September.  I would stay up till 3am talking to my best friend.  I would wake up early, get a coffee by myself and read a book.  I would find a guitar player and sing at bars on weekends.  I would pray more.  I would be a dog walker.  I would stop and smell the roses at the botanical gardens.  I would eat at every ethnic restaurant I could find.  I would shop at thrift stores and volunteer there.  I would go to every free concert I could find.  I would take more literature classes.  I would stop thinking about what’s next and just enjoy what is now. 

Don’t you just wonder why I don’t do all of this right now?

Today I did a lot of leaning…on walls, carts, Sam. I was feeling weighty. No particular reason, but it was a weighty day for me. I got to thinking that I need more things and people to lean on. Or maybe I just need to lean harder and more often into what and who I already have. I’ll try that first.

We spend a lot of money on food. A friend shared his similar frustration with spending so much cash on something you just eat and then … So, we started trying to get creative…shop at Restaurant Depot, Costco, Famer’s Markets, Aldi, find a vegetable co op. We’re working on it.

In the midst of these thoughts, it’s hit me that I’ve had this little desire to have a farm lately. It’s pretty laughable, I know. I have never lived near a farm. Only visited them. I am to most people a through and through city girl. I wouldn’t argue that too much if I didn’t have this desire to look out my window and have a little space and a bunch of animals and a garden!!! Then, Publix couldn’t touch me with their $6 strawberries, you know? I’d just meander out to my little strawberry bush and pick a couple.

Then again, I have no interest in milking a cow.

I have a lot of thoughts…none of much consequence, but nonetheless, I have a lot of them. And lately, I’ve taken to scribbling them on napkins. Now I have a virtual napkin: this blog. There’s an impressive stat saying if we all used just one less napkin a day, we would save a whole lot of waste. This blog has nothing to do with that, though I fully support the notion. In fact, I’ll use one less napkin and I will forego a journal for napkins as well

The other day, I plopped myself at Starbucks for a couple hours to read a little and the napkin scribbling began…

-I ordered a decaf. 1 word. Refreshing when the lady in front of me reordered 3 times and then added, “Can I make that a skinny with extra foam, extra hot.” Yes, you may. I’ll have a Decaf, please. I think there will be a shift coming soon. You know how it’s cool to have a 7 word Starbucks drink that is just so YOU! What if maybe plain ole coffee is what the cool cats start to drink again? A bartender I used to work with would ask if people wanted their coffee blond and sweet or dark and bitter. She did this once when I was standing next to her. She was a blond hottie and I had just died my hair too dark and put on the freshman 15.

- I’m sitting here wanting the comfy chair but stuck in a wooden one. I want those comfy chair people to leave

-What is it with Uggs? Everywhere. They are everywhere. And, I admit, I want them from time to time when they are cozy, boho, effortless, but not these ones that I’ve seen paired with way short skirts or with UGA hoodies and cords. No, not them.

-Bless you. Why does no one say this? I sneezed. Bless me.

-Bad music can really kill you- my train of thought is completely disrupted by a very poor choice: 1 part synth, 1 part Shania Twain, and maybe a dash of Sheena Easton. 3 minutes till I can concentrate again.

- I like being the weird girl in the corner scribbling on a napkin. I got the comfy chair.

- Inside I have wild curly hair. Wild. This is the most profound thought to surface here.