Seriously, Just Look at the Pictures. Or, Why Happy Blogs Depress Me

we eat a lot of yogurt and dream of home grown tomatoes

I've been having a weird 21st century struggle... depressed by the internet. I used to think I had some pretty brilliant ideas, I used to think I was a decent writer and had potential as an art-making-person (still can't handle the A word, though). Used to.

i love my clothesline and watching the magpies fall off of the bird feeder

I mostly quit blog reading for about a year, and it felt really good. But I was superbusy, totally occupied. Then we moved to Colorado and I felt so isolated and friendless. So I turned to my imaginary friends in the blog world... who don't even know they're my friends because I almost never comment (another itchy thing). But then I noticed a white noise frequency of sadness, disappointment with myself, deepened loneliness.

Natty, vacuum, junk on the floor.

It was how perfect everyone else's life appears to be. I know that there are struggles and disappointments and bad days... but that is not what blogs are for, right? They're for being positive, lovely and inspiring. I often wonder about the motives for blogging... for many, self promotion, or a place to make a small bit of (hard earned!) income by attracting sponsors and advertisers. I do it to keep a record of my life without having to make a big scrapbooking mess in my house, I do it in case my Grandma gets her computer fixed and she can check in on her great grand-boy. I used to do it for accountability.  I guess I do it for the same reason we like to look in the mirror- to make sure I'm really here.  I do it for reflection.

dreams in peat pots

I wanted to do it to share, I wanted people to see how creative I was, and what a great sense of style I have. Well... it turns out- I'm not. And I don't. Whew! Saying that really does take a load off.
I am a people pleaser, an achiever, a perfectionist. So naturally, I struggle big time with expectations, and my own are the absolute worst. I try to compete with people who don't even know that I exist. How weird is that?I wonder if I am alone in this strange habit, or if this is an actual phenomena.

stacks of things, furniture dreaming of reupholstering

Anyway, I am excited about this series thing in the blog world- Things I'm Afraid to Tell You because it's kind of where all these happy, focused, beautiful-lifed bloggers confess that they are not perfect and their life is messy sometimes. That I can compete with.

fruit, the letter T made of grill utensils

Maybe it's a little like the tabloids that show celebrities without make-up or at the beach with fat rolls and cellulite and no Photoshop. But it's just so, so very nice to hear that one is not alone in her fears, her inadequacies and odd quirks.

kitchen

In light of my self awarded metal of messy-lifeness, I've given you an Edward guided tour of our Colorado home life, right now. I have for years dreamed of the day I could get our home just-so, I could pull all of my vintage treasures together and make them look clean, curated, classic and not like some Grandma's attic had a baby with a preschool and dressed it with flimsy Target furniture. But alas... I'm just way too cheap and distracted.
I'm not quitting the internets or my quest for a cute home- no way. I totally love it here. I am just thankful for the dose of perspective.

Saving is Worth More than Earning

I am learning. Because earning has a lot of costs- clothing, transportation, childcare, showering more than you want to, etc...
Saving costs time, and a bit of toner and paper, and a couple of copies of the Sunday Journal at the Dollar Store, but in the end, I am learning that conserving is better than burning through to try to make more (money).
Since taking the Dave Ramsey class a year and a half ago, there has been a big shift in how we view money. It's not power and it's not freedom, it is a tool and a resource, and it is not ours.
So should you have an interest in where I am going to find out about awesome deals, here's a list:

Southern Savers
Hip2Save
WS Couponer
Coupon Teacher


This journey into saving-ness has not been without pitfalls- too much convenience food because it is free, not being vigilant about the fine print, not knowing what the "stock up" price is for items and buying at the wrong time, thinking awesome happens all the time, and missing out. But I like learning new things and this one, I am pretty sure, has actually paid off instead of piled up in the corner of room mocking my gross optimism like so many sewing and art supplies.

...and counting

Just a half an hour before I enter into "my thirties" I have to say... Lord willing, I think it's going to be a good decade. No doubt, my twenties have been exciting. Although, I feel we have been at the mercy of opportunity to an exhausting degree. I have spent a lot of time believing I have needed to make some sort of name for myself (doing what???), I have too long felt divided in so many ways. There have been some detectable shifts.
Quite suddenly, there is this deep-in-my-gut realization that I am simply a part of a greater thing. I have a lot to offer in perhaps many small ways.
OK.
Back to my alarmingly attractive husband indulging me in some much needed uninterrupted conversation.
Oh... and I got the blue-green sneakers. They're perfect.

Maybe I should have opted for the nap

Who does not like Fall? Anyone out there? Am I the only one?
It must be the waning daylight, the shadows spreading to where I once saw sun. It makes me feel quiet, even a little removed.

(Here is where I initially published a bunch of whiny drivel about things not going my way.)

So... with all that cheer, let me recommend that you make this broccoli soup right away. I do not like broccoli soup. I do not like broccoli. I always had a warm place in my heart for George Bush Senior because of his open disdain for broccoli. But. This really, really low maintenance recipe has almost converted me to full-out broccoli love. Make it, and eat it. You will like it.
I also made this carrot soup, except I added a little bit of fresh ginger with the onion, and put in a tiny bit of orange zest at the end. I'm searching for the perfect carrot soup recipe- this isn't quite there, but it's getting closer.

I thought I took pictures (of the soups), but then again, I think I thought about it and thought, "I already have 200 pictures of soup simmering on my stove." So it is dandelions today.

(PS- don't worry, our marriage is good, we are healthy- I really have nothing to complain about. It's Fall. I promise to not get too introspective until Dec. 21st when they days start getting longer again)

Also! This list posted on Joe Boyd's blog (teaching pastor at VCC) is really something to behold.

HudkinsNews/ Go To Here For Awesome

B has been working ever so diligently on this lovely specimen of a website. His shinybright portfolio is online now. So... if you need some identity/branding/print advertising- or even basic website-ness- you just call this guy. He is quite talented (and organized, and dependable, patient, and handsome and... well, you know.)

The Birthday Seal is Broken

I have this terrible habit of extending my birthday. A lot.
It stems from the chaos- rarely does a special day fall on at the appropriate time. Inevitably, we have to work late, get sick, get extra-broke... something. And birthdays and anniversaries are postponed- days, weeks, months...
So. Just in cases, I have started buying myself presents in advance. My birthday is more than a month away, and already, I have purchased:

Mad Men Season 2 (Peggy is my favorite. No question. If I took one of those "Which Mad Man Are You" quizzes, I am sure I would be Peggy. And if I wasn't, then something would be very faulty. There's no point. If I were a Mad (wo)Man... I would be Peggy)


This long awaited book from my 2nd favorite blogger and first favorite craft+family book writer.

And next on the list:



these shoes (Jackie had them first. but she is far away. I think the thousand+ miles makes them fair game)


or maybe these- can't decide


this planner that i have loved for years now. it appears to be sold out, but I'm going to check my local anthro, they might have one held out for me.




if they don't have it- I love her stuff, too


and also, b is taking me here, to see these beautiful people. Maybe doesn't fall under birthday, just a rare date- but We. even. have. a. babysitter(s)!!! It's as if we are real, grown up parents that go out on dates. Weird.


And the one condition that I would endure one more Ohio Winter was a new coat. A beautiful and expensive new coat. I love this one supermost. Now I just have to wait it out until they have another 30% off sale. Come on Johnnie Boden, catch my esps...

(But this one doesn't count, it's just on the list)
Which fabulous things do you want most right now?

Mad Me(n)

I have spent much of my adolescence/early adulthood espousing the evils of television. Robs you of intelligent thought, tricks you into thinking you have real relationships with imaginary people, creates a sense of entitlement for an unattainable lifestyle, breeds disappointment and despair about reality versus the fantasy lives portrayed by Hollywood actors. The list goes on. I have judged and muttered about parents who let the television raise their children.
I'm not really sure where this sanctimoniousness was born.
But then there was Lost.
And I was (am) hooked.
And then I had Edward. And the time PBS programming buys me. It's priceless. We have our limits around here, but just a little Sid the Science Kid here, some Word Girl there, and the occasional Super Y (Oh.... and Curious George and Clifford and...). It's educational, right? (OK. No, I don't really buy that. But it's treat. For both of us.)
Then Brady brought home the first season of Flight of the Conchords. And I adored those guys. And they did make me feel like I had a couple of really funny friends. Friends whose lives I didn't actually have to get involved in. They just make me laugh, then I can turn them off. No fuss, no muss.
But my current obsession, and it's a rare thing for a TV show to make this list, is Mad Men. There's been a bit of hype. And my curiosity is insatiable. And the library had the first season. And ohmygoodness, I was not disappointed. I love Art History because I need a visual context- truly fascinated with the story of civilization. How we went from living in caves to trading on Wall Street- with pictures.
And this show opened up so much for me, in a historical way. It's personal, too. The generation hits home, in a sense. I was stunned by the gender roles. The family dynamics. The wars. The corruption.
Really, visually and sociologically fascinating. Dark and sad, but sometimes very funny, mostly bittersweet and beautiful.
And also, I just found this on Etsy. I was just lamenting that we finished the first season, and the library doesn't have the second. What is a girl to do? Just buy the second season. That's what you should advise.
(the photo is from the official Mad Men website at amctv.com)

We Missed the Boat

Literally. We were supposed to spend the day on the lake at Brookville. It was going to be awesome. I was secretly hoping for s'mores. And a little sunburn. But we missed the boat. It was my fault (though, I'd like to share the blame with Verizon).


We thought we might. So we came prepared. With sandwiches and Terra chips and not-very-good grocery store fruit. We picnicked. Brady and Edward stared at the family next to us. They actually ate their entire lunch in this manner.


Refusing to let the day be a wash- we stopped by a "flea market" on the main strip of Brookville, IN. This was really a barn with a parking lot right off Main Street. It was particularly peculiar because I am certain the woman lived there. There was kind of a barricade where I could see an oven and there was an easy chair next to a fireplace and a door that I am certain had a bathroom behind it. Not a public bathroom either. I took a couple of pictures inside, but I could tell she wasn't pleased. They're pretty blurry. It was very dark inside, lit only by a few shadeless lamps. And jam packed with junk. Junk even I had a hard time appreciating.
But then, outside, she had all of these flowers and plants and few produce items for sale. I did end up making a few purchases. White pottery. I'm unintentionally starting a collection.
It was the juxtaposition of the flowers and the dirty lot of junk, and she lived there. And her relentless stare. And the iced tea in the mason jar. I couldn't help for a moment, loving this strange meadow, the Midwest.


Craving a swim in the lake, we headed out to Hueston Woods for fried chicken and people watching and a dip in the murky waters.

PS, a little trivia- my parents lived in Brookville, IN when I was born. That town was my first home (only briefly) But it was interesting to return (only briefly), as a grown-up.

Change in the Air

Is it the rapidly approaching 3 century mark (how did this happen???)? Am I starting to come to terms with my mortality? Am I losing patience with the possibilities? Or just ready to face the truth about me, myself... my life, my aspirations? What is this strange ruthlessness? This editing? This letting go?
I do not know.
But a weight has been lifted. Physically (the house is sighing, Brady can breathe a little easier), but more, mentally/emotionally. For the first time I can remember- I am detached to almost all of this stuff. I don't feel a great obligation to hang onto things because of who gave them to me, what they meant at the time, what they might be used for in the future, what dreams they symbolize, what aspect of me they embody, what possibility they hold, who I meet in the future that might need this...
the list goes on. and on and onnnnnnn....
Throwing the list away.
And we put all the goofy stuff "that might be worth something someday" on ebay. We're digging ourselves out of this. And it feels really, really good.
We're liquidating. We're paying up, we're saving up, we're insuring and planning. These old fashioned things, they seem so radical right now. These small steps toward taking responsibility and cleaning things up- it's strangely (ironically?) liberating.
If you need inspiration for decluttering, there is a good article at Simple, Green, Frugal Co-op here..
And, OK. If you come over and the house doesn't look as spartan as you might imagine, or if, maybe it still seems a little on the "where on earth did you get all of this stuff and why in the world did you bring it home with you?" side... just know. This is a work in progress. As are we all.

Still a favorite. And never more relevant...

...I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

Rainer Maria Rilke, 1903
in Letters to a Young Poet

Is there a word for this?

We went back to the park to see the turtles. And because it's pretty. And also because I wanted a picture of that muffin on that napkin. Since blogging, I have noticed myself choosing just the right napkin/bowl/toenail polish/ wooden spoon/ dish towel- just in case there might be a picture- as if there were any doubt.

Baby-Daddy's Day

This is my baby's daddy.
He's really great. We love him a ridiculous lot, and thinks he's a wonderful papa!

Love in the City

The weekend, starting Friday at 3:45 AM, Union Terminal and extending until the Greyhound station at 8 PM Monday night, was nothing short of magic. Not since Berea days have I had such a captive and hungry audience to guide through this bittersweet city. We Skylined and hiked up to Mt. Adams for UDF (where I tried to break routine, but couldn't resist my usual vanilla soft serve), looked in vain for a decent view (with minimal trespassing), swung on Atman, the giant swing sculpture in front of the art museum, Ban-the-baker-man made us brioche (then made French Toast out of it later) and cream puffs and tutored me in bread making, hit the Springfield Township yard sale and College Hill Coffee and St. Theresa's Textile Trove, we Valley-Thrifted, Jungle-Jim's-d, bocce-ed, caught fireflies, ate copious amounts of granola, apple pie and strawberry cake and strawberry shortcake and chocolate pave (chilled ganache with whipped cream, sans the cake), checked out O'Bryonville (MiCA and indigenous) and even hit Trader Joe's (just to see if it was any different than West Coast stores- and other than inflated wine prices, consensus is no- all TJ's are the same)for cheese and wine before the Sunday dinner fondue extravaganza.
It's so quiet around here today. The living room is far too easy to navigate, there's no one to tempt me with bread and chocolate, no expeditions to pack up for. Just quiet.
And that's nice, too.
A napping boy, some dough on the rise, laundry in the dryer...
and a dear friend- home again.

(ps-French Toast photo courtesy of my ridiculously talented husband)

My "little" brother, Alex, graduated from high school today. I'm not hormonal, but when I saw all those kids marching out of their holding chamber and onto the court at Xavier U's Cintas Center, I got the wee-est bit choked up. It only gets better kids. Tougher, crazier and more real. And so much bigger.
And holy!!! He was just dressing up in my mom's high heels, and begging for lipstick. And now, here he is, all passing over into this new stage, and joining the Air Force.
We were nothing but honored to host the (Dad-funded) celebratory meal, complete with Filet Mignon and sushi and muhammara and these horrible, obnoxious and completely unnecessarily decadent Marshmallow Crunch Brownie Bars.
Sweet.

Playing to Learn to Be

I'm a Libra. I don't take much stock in the star-business, but I love having something to blame for indecisiveness. Or, rather, my all-encompassingness. My search for balance. My hunger. To taste everything, see everything, know as much as I can about way more than I possibly can. My capacity to see from a thousand angles. Sympathies and empathies.
This is nebulous, I'm sorry. I wrestle.
Elliott Smith isn't helping. But, wow. So pretty (Angel in the Snow).
I had this conversation with a dear friend today. I miss her so. We can describe a thing and the other knows just exactly what she means. I love so much when I meet a friend like that. That just knows. We talked about church and wanting to want to go, and when finally the weight of not going makes us go, it's always just the thing. And why do we fight it? We just do.
This post started it. And for those of you who are lucky or disciplined enough to not get sucked into the vortex that is the internet- the subject is titled "less advocacy, more action" and it's an open discussion about the responsibility of parents and educators to not wait for federal funding and political policy to make room for the arts in public education, but rather, become the change they wish to see on a local level. Be it volunteering your own time and resources, or perhaps, teach your own. I do a lot of ranting. I'm an idealist. A romantic. I have some very concrete ideas about "how it should be". But I have no future in lobbying (I can hardly think of a bigger waste of time and money). I did take an online grantwriting course, and even that seemed a little cantankerous. An impatient idealist. The worst kind.



And then. I read this post, by yet another dear friend. The kind that knows you, that loves you even though she knows you. Even though she knows what kind of ridiculous temper-tantrums you throw when she buys the thing at the thrift store that you wanted, but knew would look cuter on her.
I digress.
She talks about community. About finding it even when it takes a lot more courage than you care to muster. And she speaks of the source in her in case, her now-3-year-old son.



Children have an uncanny ability to awaken a bravery and determination once unknown.
All this to tell you that, when I am with the kiddos, I try to have some activities planned. But I have a very, very hard time bringing them to the table when they are so engrossed in play. Just free-play. Sometimes they are mom and dad and baby. Often they are kitties or dinosaurs. Sometime cheerleaders and businessmen. Shop-owners, chefs or doctors.
I love this.
Only when they ask to watch TV or specifically request a craft, do I bring out the "plan". Otherwise, I think they are learning an incredible lot by working it out in their own way. Sharing. Raging, forgiving, giving shots, cooking meals, teaching classes, going to work...
Being people.
It's our job to be the people we know we are, the one's we know we are meant to be. Our job here is to become that person and to make the changes we see fit, within ourselves and among the community we know. It is most comfortable to presume that we are here doing our thing as individuals. But we are more than we might think. We are that proverbial stone tossed in the water.
We (and really, I am talking to myself here) must invest ourselves. Wholly. In the dreams we have, and the truth we know, and the beauty we long for.



Yes. We painted with fettucine. And it was fun.

A Fine Inheritance

It took nearly a year of living here, to realize that this rarely visited but dearly loved park of my childhood is just a few miles away.


Edward and I enjoyed it so much in the afternoon, that we went back with Brady after dinner.

I saw this quote on one of the signs near the meadow, and it was all I could do to swallow back that telltale lump of verklempedness.

If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in.
-Rachel Carson

I have been piled high with blessings, and they have come in the form of wondrous, genuine and quietly powerful people. They have cast the most beautiful kind of light on my life.
The beacon of my childhood was my maternal grandmother. If ever one human could be held responsible for my sense of joy, wonder and mystery of this world- it is she. If ever a single person ignited my imagination, fostered the belief that all things are possible, that laid the foundation for a relationship with God Himself- it is she. Always teaching, encouraging, and confidently expecting me to contribute, understanding that even the smallest child needs to feel useful and capable... she passed down to me a wealth that can never be spent, only cultivated and shared, the gifts of love and encouragement that grow and spread with use.
I miss her more, yet feel more connected to her, with every bending violet, with each waving meadow, with every winding path and all the lilies of the valley, I ache and stretch in a growing way each time I see the sun filtering through the leaves, casting rays into the cool shadows. I've no doubt she is resting in perfection. And, still, she is more here with me than ever before.

Happy Birthday Collin- you big crazy 5 year old!