Tag: postaweek

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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

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Awesome Beginnings Exercise Fiction Humor Writing

Throwback Thursday: Prose

Okay, here’s something from one of my creative writing: fiction classes at Davis. I have zero recollection of writing this, but it’s got my name on it (and it sure sounds like me). The prompt for this little homework blurb was:

A Stranger Comes to Town (April 2004)

“Guess where I am,” he said, and then, without waiting, “I’m coming to see you.”  She went through a quick spray of shock, excitement, happiness, and then suddenly shock again.  He lived an hour and a half away from her – two hours in heavy traffic – and while they had been talking over the phone for the entire summer, she didn’t feel the need to meet him in person.  He had offered to drive down to visit her several times, and each time she had mumbled stories of previous engagements and sworn vague promises.  “I got tired of waiting for you to make up your mind.  I’ll be there in an hour.”  The call ended and she was left holding the phone to her ear.  She was still holding it there when it rang again, no more than a minute later.  “I know what you’re thinking.”  He began talking before she could even say “hello.”  “You’re thinking that I don’t know where you live and so how can I find you?  You’re thinking you’re going to hide in a city of twenty thousand people.  I know you’re working tonight and there can’t be many Blockbusters in town.  I’ll see you soon.”  He hung up again without waiting for her to say anything.  She couldn’t help feeling that, despite their telephone relationship, he was really just a stranger coming to town.

I’m intrigued by this…and also by the reference to Blockbuster. LOL.

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"Other people" Being a girl Friends Self improvement Work

Part-time optimist

I’ve been trying really hard to be more optimistic. Not just optimistic in the glass-half-full way, but also in everything-that-comes-out-of-my-mouth kind of way. Like, I’m trying not to complain about every little thing.

Some parts of my job are less fun than others, and if I give voice to the constant commentary going on in my head about these parts, I would probably spend a lot of time bitching to people around me. I try to keep a lid on that. (Drew still gets most of the splatter, though.) I try to be really aware of what I’m about to say, and whether it’s useful information, and whether the person I’m saying it to will have heard it a thousand times already.

A lesser version of this is badmouthing your friends. I’m going to guess that a lot of people do this, based on my experience. But I guess I could be wrong. I admire people who never say a single bad thing about their friends. (Or at least I would, if I’d ever met one.) I can be judgmental, I’ll admit it. But it comes to a point that even I have to say, Enough already.

I just think of the people I really like: optimists and positive thinkers. Versus the people I avoid: pessimists who complain about every single little thing. (We all know these people.) (Some of us are these people.) And since, at the heart of it all, I really want everyone to like me, I’m striving for goodness here.

I have this memory of when Drew and I first got together, of him telling me that a good friend would just do things for another friend, and not expect repayment. You just do things for your friends because they’re your friends. He likened it to Jesus, in fact, which as I recall made me feel really terrible about whatever I’d just been saying. I think he was even doing dishes while he said it. I’ve never forgotten that.

I want Baby B to grow up to be a kind person and a good friend. I want him to be friendly and quicker to smile than to complain. I want him to be happy in general. So I’m hoping that bringing him up in a household of laughter and positivity will help ensure he grows up to be the kind of person that I would want to be friends with. (You know, even if I weren’t already so biased.)

It’s just on my mind tonight.

Categories
Awesome Books Fiction

Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn

So I made this “25 books in 2013” resolution for myself. What with book club, audiobooks (yes, I’m counting them), and keeping a list of what I should read next on GoodReads, things are going pretty well so far.

I’m currently reading Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. Have you heard of this book? Has someone told you to read it? If so, and if you haven’t, then now is the time. Put down whatever lame book you’re reading and immediately start reading Gone Girl.

This is the first book I’ve read in awhile that I’ve found really, truly engrossing. I can’t put this book down. I started reading it 2 days ago and I’ve been devouring it, but my reading hours are limited these days, meaning I end up staying up way too late reading. Then I wake up exhausted (at 2:30…at 3:30…at 5:30…) but still not quite regretting my decision. I can understand when people say they got through this book in one sitting. (I used to sit around on the weekends, when Drew worked at The Lion King, and I would just read all day. I would sleep in and then literally sit around reading. All. Day. Long.)

Anyway. I had regular friends tell me to read this book, I had work friends tell me, Sarah and Vinnie told me, and I just kept going, “Yeah yeah.” Then someone finally loaned it to me and I finally picked it up and the rest is history. Every night when I reluctantly close the book I just keep thinking, “What is happening?! What’s going to happen?!” I am a little sad that I’m going to finish it soon. But also I’m thrilled because OMG WHAT’S HAPPENING?!

It’s funny, I’ve actually had one of Gillian Flynn’s other books saved in my Amazon cart forever. A couple years ago I went through Amazon, clicking from one recommendation to another, and dumping anything that looked interesting into my cart. Then I stuck everything into “save for later,” and I mostly ignore it. But Flynn’s Sharp Objects is near the top of that list, so I see it every time I check out with my other products, and I keep thinking I should check it out. And now? I 100% will. (I almost bought it yesterday, but then I bought myself an external hard drive instead.)

ANYWAY. If the storyline, the suspense, and the writing weren’t enough to keep me enraptured, here’s the one little thing that pushed me over the edge into adoring Gillian Flynn. Without giving anything away, this is a paraphrased line from the book:

She waited in the car and watched her husband and me exchange papers. (And yes, that is the correct wording: her husband and me.)

I LOVE YOU GILLIAN FLYNN. I love you and I love that you said that. (PS: It’s said in a diary entry type chapter, so it’s the character’s interjection, not technically the writer’s, so it’s acceptable.)

Okay. I seriously have to finish this book tonight.

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.

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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
Awesome Baby Being a girl Humor TV

Luvs gets it right!

I just saw this commercial this afternoon, and I love it.

Partly because I’m like, “it’s so true!” But mostly because I think it might be the first time I’ve ever seen breastfeeding on regular cable TV. With all of the reading I’ve done over the last year, and all of the breastfeeding stats and stories, and knowing how trendy it is right now…I still haven’t seen it being portrayed on TV as a totally natural and public thing to do. And the commercial isn’t saying it’s particularly granola or new-agey…it’s just a regular-type mom in an everyday restaurant, doin’ what ya do.

Bravo, Luvs commercial. I’ll probably still buy Pampers because I really like them, but maybe you’re right and I’ll see you in a few years when we do this all again.

Categories
Family Fiction Humor Memoir Self improvement Work

over the rainbow

Let me start out by saying, I really like my job.

But it’s hard to be away from B for 9+ hours a day, counting my commute. So sometimes I find myself wondering, Where is that Perfect Job for me?

The one that’s a career, not just a job.

Flexible hours, but generally 9-5.

Preferably there’s a daycare onsite.

They pay me what I think I deserve to get paid. Plus awesome benefits (including dental and vision) for me and my whole family. Plus a retirement package.

There’s the possibility of advancement.

It’s something I enjoy doing, ideally in the arts. It is both challenging and satisfying on a daily basis.

Casual dress code, friendly work environment, fun coworkers.

A boss who’s also a mentor.

Maybe I can work from home some of the time.

I guess as long as I’m reaching for the stars, some Google-style cafeterias offering free lunches wouldn’t be so bad. And maybe, like, an on-site gym? I guess it’d be cool if they issued me an iPad too. And paid for my personal phone? Which I use for work stuff occasionally.

So if anyone hears of a job like this, ideal for a San Francisco-based almost-30-year-old with an English degree, could you let me know?