Category: Nonfiction

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Being a girl Dreams Humor Memoir Nonfiction Self improvement

30 Before 30

I’m turning 30 almost exactly a year from now, so I was thinking about doing a “30 before 30” list. I like lists and goals, so it seems like an exercise that I’d enjoy.

But maybe I’ve made too many lists in my life, because my 30 before 30 list was very derivative of all my other lists, including but not limited to: to-do list (short term), to-do list (long term), wish list, New Year’s Resolutions 2013, bucket list, to-do list (work), RunKeeper goals, New Year’s Resolution 2013 updates, and the half-hearted bucket list I’ve been keeping in my head.

I don’t want to just repurpose old bullet points for a new list. Isn’t 30 supposed to be a big milestone in a girl’s life? I don’t want to pay my respects to 30 by vowing to floss every day until then. (See also: I have totally flossed every day for last the two weeks and I am incredibly self-satisfied.)

But a year isn’t a very long time, and realistically, there’s no way I’m going to go in a hot air balloon in the next year, or buy a house, or go on a cruise. Those are bucket list entries – at least, I think they are, but I’ve never written any of them down. I feel like maybe I should have done this 30 before 30 list about 5 years ago.

I’m not sure if it’s responsible and wise of me to know my limitations over the next year; or if it’s kind of sad that I’m not bothering to dream big. Is my love of crossing things off making me censor what I write down? Should I go ahead and shoot for the moon here, even if part of me doubts that I’ll ever actually find the time and the means and the inclination to even get off the ground?

Or should I focus on some of the tasks I’ve already set myself? And just enjoy the last year of my 20s?

Categories
Beauty Being a girl Nonfiction Self improvement

Gettin old

Post-college, I went for a couple years with no dental insurance, and consequently, zero dental visits. This eventually led to such problems as a cavity, which led to a broken tooth, then a root canal and a crown. Oh well…hindsight is 20/20 and all that.

Other than that, I’ve had a really good dental history. I might sometimes be a bit vain about it. (So maybe it’s good that I had to go through all that – it knocked me down a peg.) But now that I’m an adult with actual good health insurance (thanks husband!) I like to go frequently and responsibly.

My next appointment is at the end of June, and I decided instead of lying about flossing this time, I’m going to actually floss. So for the last week or two, I’ve created this new bedtime routine of brush, floss, mouthwash. It doesn’t take that much longer than just brushing, and it makes me feel super clean and self-righteous. Plus, it will hopefully pay off at my appointment.

I even added another non-teeth-related component to my bedtime routine: moisturizer. I haven’t really used it regularly, besides the cocoa butter during pregnancy, but I was realizing how much of me is constantly exposed to the sun, and how I’m kind of getting old and should be taking better care of my skin as well as my teeth.

Yup. Gettin old and boring.

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"Other people" Baby Drew Holidays Memoir Nonfiction Writing

The Dolor Store

Despite having a bunch of different calendars – wall calendar, planner, work calendar – holidays still seem to sneak up on me. Which is how I end up using a random cow sleeper for a baby Halloween costume, cobbling together a Green Lantern onesie and some striped socks for St. Patrick’s Day, or thinking on the Friday before Easter, Should we be doing an Easter basket for him this year?

We opted out of the Easter basket, figuring it would just be stuffed animals (and I have sworn to myself to not buy any stuffed animals, since he seems to collect them just fine on his own) and candy (which Drew and I would eat ourselves, obviously, and which really isn’t necessary in this house). So, no Easter basket this year. And no “My First Easter” outfit, because I also haven’t gotten into things which are really only applicable one time.

But Easter kept nibbling at the back of my mind, and on Saturday afternoon, I found myself alone in the car, driving a route that would take me past the Dollar Store. And I couldn’t resist turning into the parking lot, searching out a spot, going into the store that I have always just passed on my way to Starbucks.

As it was the day before Easter, I expected them to be pretty cleaned out. But I saw it as soon as I walked through the door: a pair of kid-sized bunny ears, blue and white, on a rack with a giant “$.99” sign.

(Okay, actually there were two sets of bunny ears, but the first one I picked up had a lot of loose threads dangling off, so I was happy there was a second, less-shabby pair.)

I grabbed the ears and got in line, pulling a handful of change from my pocket. Luckily I had found a quarter on the ground when I left home, which meant I could use fewer dimes and nickels. I had just separated out $1.05 worth of coins when a guy behind me said, “Excuse me, can I set this on the belt?” and put down a basket with 8 jars of pickles. I counted them while he walked over to a wall of kitchen implements and selected a pizza cutter, then came back.

The woman in front of me was slowly writing a check for a selection of things that for some reason just made me sad. In fact, being in here was making me sad. The bin of dingy-looking plush animals by the door were looking at me with disconsolate eyes. I looked away from there and noticed a rack of off-brand candy, and just below it a shelf of pastel-colored Tootsie Roll banks. So that’s where all those things went.

The guy behind the guy behind me said, “Are those pickles any good?” and the pickle guy said, “Eh, they’re all right.” Who buys 8 of something that’s “all right”? The woman in front of me was almost done writing her check, and my bunny ears had traveled all the way to the cashier on the conveyor belt. At that point, another cashier opened up a second register, which I figured was just my luck, since it would have been awkward for me to get all the way over there. Three people from the end of my line bailed and went to the new register. The woman in front of me was just putting the finishing touches on her check.

Finally it was my turn and I paid with a handful of change, which at the last minute, I suddenly thought I had counted wrong. It wasn’t wrong, for which I’m grateful. Paying with a bunch of change is okay if I’m in the right frame of mind – but at some point while waiting in line this whole trip had just gotten depressing, and suddenly paying with a handful of the wrong change could have ruined the whole bunny ears experience.

I got my receipt and my $.06, and hurried out of there with no intention to ever come back.

But once Drew and I put the headband on the baby, and he looked all around with these wobbly fuzzy blue ears, my heart melted and the sad Dollar Store trip and the handful of scrounged change was all totally worth it.

ears

Categories
Being a girl Family Fashion Humor Memoir Nonfiction Not awesome

Isn’t it neat?

The other night the three of us were driving back from Lodi and listening to a CD I found in my CD case with no label, no name, and no track list. It could have been anything.

What it ended up being was a pretty good mix of the kind of classics that most people are sure to know: American Pie, Manic Monday, For the Longest Time, Fast Car, Tom’s Diner, etc. A pleasant surprise…a lot of those unlabeled CDs end up being much worse.

Then Part of Your World came on (yes, definitely the best mix ever) and I remembered, as I always do, a Disney trip with my family when I was in…late middle school? Early high school? I was in a big Little Mermaid phase, and I wanted to wait in line to take a picture with Ariel. (I’m already embarrassed about telling this story.)

I was in line, up next, and watching Ariel interact with the little girl ahead of me. She said, “Okay, now smile at the – what do you call it? – photographer!” and I thought that was so sweet. She was made of big arm gestures and smiles and hair flips.

When I got up there though, she was all business in a bad wig. She smiled for the picture but where was all the cutesy stuff? That’s okay, it would have been worse to be patronized. But the photo that came of it – awkward 13-ish-year-old me in a t-shirt and shorts and sandals with socks (oh man, I sat just now and debated including that, but you know, the truth will out) – is all the more embarrassing because of the big gap between the two of us.

Every so often, that photo resurfaces in my “stuff from the past,” and each time I debate throwing it out. Seriously, I don’t know if I need to say this again, but it is a really embarrassing picture. There is no possible reason I could ever want to show it to anyone, or look at it myself. But I just haven’t gotten around to getting rid of it. Maybe someone can tell me why.

Categories
Beginnings Being a girl Drew Food Humor Nonfiction Self improvement Writing

Make Me

One of the best things about being an adult is ice cream for dinner. Not literally (well, okay, sometimes), but I mean that sense that you can do whatever you want and there’s no one checking up on you.

On the other hand, one of the worst things about being an adult is that you can do whatever you want and there’s no one checking up on you.

There are a lot of things that I want to accomplish this year. (See: New Year’s Resolutions, 2013). Unfortunately there’s also a lot of internet to explore, friends to chat with, articles to read, and thin air to stare into.

I think the missing piece of the puzzle that turns staring (whether it’s into thin air or at Facebook) into actual productivity is accountability. If I don’t have anyone to answer to except myself, then what’s driving me to complete anything?

Here are some things I’ve tried to accomplish in the past: Bicoastal book club. Writing club. Dieting. Here are some things I’ve failed at: Bicoastal book club. Writing club. Dieting.

The problem with a bicoastal book club is that, without the regular meet-ups to talk about what you’ve read, what is forcing you to finish it? And if your book club happens to be made up of other people who aren’t determined to finish – then you might as well quit before you’ve even begun. A good way to assess the commitment of the others in your potential book club is by how long you’re given to finish the book. More than a couple months and I say your club is going to fall apart after two books, tops.

Ditto writing club. It’s all well and good to pick a prompt and off you go, but if you don’t have at least one other person emailing you something at the end of the month and expecting something from you, then you’re doomed. I’ve tried this in the past, and we made it exactly one month.

All I’ll say about dieting is that, without a good plan, someone to support you in it, and some kind of goal, it’s basically impossible.

But there’s hope! I am now in a book club, made up of real-life friends, and we meet up about every 6 weeks and discuss the book that, for the most part, all of us finished. When we started, I didn’t know how long we would last, but we’ve been going strong for over a year.

A couple months ago I started a new writing club. There are four of us, and while I’m not sure of everyone’s commitment, there is at least one other person who seems totally into it. So I’m clinging to that connection and hoping that she motivates me to write something every month.

Which brings me to dieting…which also brings me to Lent. I’m no stranger to Lent – I’ve been giving things up (off and on) since I was a kid. At some point I decided that Lent shouldn’t be about using the church to diet, so I started giving up things to make myself a better person. One year I tried to give up saying bad things about people behind their backs. A few years ago I gave up fighting with Drew. Last year I gave up Facebook.

This year I was thinking about giving up judging people, but when I suggested that, Drew shut it down. Remember, I need support in whatever I do. We finally decided to go with giving up most carbs. I figured this year I’ll be a happier person if I can stick to a diet, so I’m still technically improving myself.

I know it’s only been a couple days, but I already feel more committed, more confident, and pretty good about myself. In an “I can do it!” way, and not in an “Ice cream for dinner!” way, which is a refreshing change.

Lake County Record-Bee, 2/19/13

Categories
Family Humor Memoir Nonfiction Parents

Fatherly Advice

About three years ago, at the inception of this blog, I wrote a post that ended up being about things I was told as a child that I still firmly believe. Since then I’ve kind of made a mental note whenever I think of another one of those things, because it’s interesting to realize how much of your personal beliefs are based in maybe-not-entirely-truth.

The other night this train of thought happened: I hope B doesn’t pull his blanket over his face –> although maybe if he did he would be warmer –> also, maybe if he did he would sleep longer –> because my dad says that’s a thing –> huh, I wonder if that’s not really a thing? –> even if it is a thing, maybe it shouldn’t be a thing for 20-week-old babies.

So the back story to this is, we were all spending the night at my grandma’s (mom’s mom’s) house one night, and the cousins were sleeping in the living room in sleeping bags. I was too excited to go to sleep, I guess, so my dad told me to put my head down inside my sleeping bag and as I breathed the oxygen, it would make me sleepy.

(Dad, any memory of this?)

I have always had this in the back of my head, even as an adult, that if I needed a trick to fall asleep, I could just cover my face and start breathing less-oxygenated air. And soon, sleep!

But when I told Drew about this, he said, “Your dad tried to suffocate you?”

But I like to think that it was all out of love.

Categories
Dreams Drew Humor Love Nonfiction Sleep talking

Sleep talking 25

My poor husband. We are both a little sleep deprived lately, and God knows no one handles sleep deprivation better than Drew. At this point I could probably get his deepest secrets out of him if I somehow kept him up past midnight.

Last night I was in bed, catching up on some super important tweets. Then I had to scroll through all my pictures from this weekend and marvel over how much fun I’ve had. Then finally I felt it was time to turn off the lamp. Which I did, plunging the room into darkness and apparently startling the sleeping Drew.

Drew: Can you see okay?
I: No, because it’s dark.
Drew: Didn’t you just grab a book? [pause] What did you just do?
I: I turned the light off.
Drew: Oh. Sorry. I’m [mumbled] ouwoffit.
I: You’re what? You’re out of what?
Drew: Loop.

Part of me misses the days when we could spend the weekend catching up on sleep. (And part of me doesn’t miss it at all.)

Categories
Baby Dreams Drew Family Love Memoir Nonfiction Sentiment

Anniversaries

Today’s a special day in our family:

  • It’s Drew’s and my 8-year dating anniversary.
  • It’s the 1-year anniversary of the day we found out I was pregnant.
  • And it’s B’s 4-month birthday!

Now if only we weren’t both sick…

And, as long as I’m wishing for things, maybe we could win the lottery?

jump

Oh that’s right! We already did win the lottery! (Awwwwww)

Categories
Awesome Beauty Drew Humor Memoir Nonfiction Sentiment

Make your own tumbler

Last weekend, Drew and I went down to Half Moon Bay to try our hands at glassblowing. It was a “bucket list” type of thing, and Drew’s idea to celebrate this kind of big birthday he was having.

The class was in this little studio next to a winery. Half Moon Bay is so charming. It’s easy to have a good time when you’re in the most beautiful part of the world.

Right after we arrived, this other (older) couple came in and the woman started making all this annoying comments and asking too many questions. None of us – Drew, I, Doug (the teacher), or the woman’s husband – seemed interested in what she had to say. When he asked them what they were there to make (pumpkins or tumblers) she said they weren’t there for the class, that they “came in off the street.” But wait…hadn’t she just told us that they had to make a U-turn on 92 because they drove past it? So what’s the truth? She was crazy. Luckily they left right after that.

While we were waiting for the other two people in the class to arrive, Doug told us he would do some work on a project and we could watch. He was creating a decanter, because apparently some guy on the east coast is doing all this work with infused vodkas and ordered a bunch of “hand-made vessels.” He shaped this gorgeous decanter, it was so time-consuming, and then it cracked and he dumped the whole thing into this discard bucket. Yikes.

When the class started, Drew went first (thank goodness). Doug took him through the whole process, from start to finish. It’s harder than it looks – keeping the whole pole turning the entire time might be the hardest part, especially with gloves on. At one point I thought that we weren’t going to do any of the actual blowing, but we got to do that part too. Doug must have been teaching this class for a long time, because he’s got the system down pat – how much to let the student do, and how much to take over. I probably only did 30% of the work creating my tumbler, but I was so involved in the whole thing, and I did a little of everything.

There were some questionable safety issues – like when we were supposed to just leave the propane torch on, but it rocked on the base so you couldn’t set it down stable and walk away. But all’s well that ends well! We left our tumblers in the freezy box, and went back on Monday afternoon to pick them up.

Both our tumblers are a little lopsided, and we don’t have any immediate plans to actually drink out of them, but we love them both and they look so friendly together. And taking a glassblowing class was super fun and something that I would never have dreamed up on my own. I definitely recommend Doug’s class if you’re interested in stuff like that, or even if you’re not. You never know!

glassblowing

Categories
Awesome Baby Being a girl Fashion Humor Memoir Nonfiction Sentiment Travel

Ode to a purple purse

Carrying a diaper bag suits me.

I’ve always been the kind of person to have too much stuff on me. Occasionally it pays off – like when I’m stuck in line somewhere  and need something to read, or when someone says, “Does anyone have contact solution?” or when someone needs to borrow a pen and I can offer them a choice between 7 different pens and 1 mechanical pencil.

(I like mechanical pencils way more than regular pencils: you don’t have to sharpen them and I just feel like they write really nicely. One of my favorite things in high school used to be sitting down to do math homework on a nice piece of fresh graph paper with a nice 0.7 mechanical pencil…NOT a 0.5!)

Often, of course, I’m just the person with a way-too-full purse, and people with good intentions will tell me that it’s too heavy and that it’s bad for me or something. I remember, right when we moved back to California in 2009, I finally decided to stop carrying around a messenger bag, and I went to Macy’s and bought my purse, the same one I’ve carried since then. It was purple and hobo style, not super huge, but big enough to fit a book and my planner and a granola bar and a bunch of papers I don’t need and of course, up to 10 writing implements.

I carried that purse for over 3 years, probably never matching it to my “outfits,” and I loved it no matter how worn out it got and how dirty it was. But then at church on Christmas Eve, I tried to zip it shut and I guess it was just too full, and the zipper broke clean off. A couple days after Christmas, I remembered about the zipper busting, and so I sat down, ceremoniously emptied everything out, threw away all the old gum wrappers and receipts, sorted the papers into three piles (“shred,” “do something,” “file”), and then, without further ado, stuffed the purse into our kitchen trash can. Not the most illustrious send-off for an accessory that has served me well, but rest assured, purple Nine West purse, I will never forget you.

So now I’ve busted out my cross-body bag that has the NY Public Library lions on the front. Drew’s mom gave it to me for Christmas in 2008. I love it, and it’s got more room, so now I can have all my regular stuff, plus my Nalgene and even an extra granola bar. But probably my favorite thing about it is, since it’s a cross-body, it doesn’t require extra work to keep it on my shoulder, and it doesn’t fall down my arm when I lean over to pick up the carseat, grocery bags, baby toys, etc. (Women will probably understand what I mean.)

But a diaper bag opens up even more possibilities than just a medium-sized purse. I love having an excuse to take an even bigger bag with me. I love that I can just pack up everything I could possibly need: extra clothes (and they’re so tiny, you can fit so many!), bib(s), diapers, almost empty package of wipes, brand new package of wipes, burp cloths, disposable burp cloths, toys, nursing pads, travel lotion, more toys, extra pacifier, pacifier leash(es), other nursing pads, extra plastic fork (just in case?), large hook (for the stroller push bar to hang your plastic shopping bags on), pacifier wipes, diaper disposal bags (scented in case you have throw away a dirty diaper in your office)… and I might be forgetting something.

All this stuff fits in one regular-sized diaper bag…and means that we’re prepared for almost any occasion. I just love that. I love being prepared. I think that’s one of the things I really liked about stage managing – having a kit full of office supplies. (Well, being prepared, and, I just love office supplies.)

The funny thing is, we don’t really need this stuff that often. We do leave the diaper bag at home, or in the car, and go out without it. I’m sure a day will come when we’ll regret that.

In the meantime, we’ll make sure the diaper bag is well stocked for all contingencies. I’ll continue my quest to fit more and more things in my NY Library lions bag. And maybe one day, when all this baby stuff has calmed down, I’ll get myself a new, ladylike purse. One that would make the ladies of Sex and the City proud. Maybe.