Every once in a while, when I'm posting something new on the house blog, I think about this blog and feel a twinge of guilt. This poor blog has now become the neglected blog in favor of the new, shiny blog complete with endless house photos and project updates. I've noticed that a lot of my fellow bloggers seem to have either officially or unofficially left their blogs behind, and I've often wondered if maybe it's time for me to do the same with this one. I've also wondered if anyone is even reading this blog anymore, and if not, is it even worth doing?
The thing is, though, every once in a while I get the feeling that I really need to blog. Like this is a place where, more than once, I have come to sort things out. Perhaps that is interesting reading to some, or perhaps it is only all going out into a void, but it still has served a purpose for me in that way. I'm not quite ready to let it go yet.
I've been thinking lately about where I was this time last year, when it felt like nothing was happening for me. Our house hunt was on hold, my job was making me miserable, and I felt so very stuck. After a lot of reflection and soul-searching, I became energized and euphoric at the idea of starting my own organizing business. I put hours and hours and hours into preparation, paid for some seminars at the Small Business Development Center, met with a consultant there, put together a business plan, and even purchased a domain name and started a website. And now. . . where has all of that gone?
I think one of the most wonderful and beautiful things about being human is our ability to discover and rediscover ourselves, to know that we are ever growing and changing. But I sometimes find that it can also be one of the most frustrating. We want to know who we are or what we are going to be, but we are not static. We are continuously journeying down the path of self-discovery, but we will never reach the end. And it turns out that, for me, the business was not the end that I thought it would be.
I still love the idea of my business, but it's just not who I am right now. The person who created that business idea and plan was in desperate need of work that held meaning for her. The person I am now is finding that meaning--much more than I ever anticipated--in the work that I'm doing. My new job is allowing me to create a new professional version of myself that I wasn't even expecting and is giving me opportunities to grow and explore in so many ways. I feel such a great sense of purpose in working with kids with autism and their families, and I find it interesting and challenging and rewarding. When those feelings of purpose with my new work came in, they sort of pushed the purpose for my business out. After all the work and energy I put into my business, that's been a hard thing to admit, but trying to return to my business over and over again has just felt like a square peg and a round hole. It just hasn't fit. It's not going to fit. And so, for now, I think I have to let it go.
That's not to say, of course, that it will never fit. I love this feeling of knowing now that if the path I'm on now doesn't feel like the right one (and I'm sure that day will come), I've already cleared away the brush and started a path to something new. But, for now, I'm going to tuck the business in my back pocket and perhaps pull it out another day. It's been very hard to do, but it feels like the right thing. I feel proud of myself for all that I did last year to work my business idea into shape, but I also feel proud of myself for knowing that it's time to move on (I tend to advance and never retreat, even when the time to retreat has long passed) and for really listening to myself about what feels right for me.
And I'm not going to throw out the baby with the bathwater. So many other goals that I imagined for myself last year--having more creative outlets, spending more time in nature, practicing better self-care, being more intentional with my time--are still areas that I have been working on and will continue to nurture. They still feel like who I am and who I want to be. And this blog still feels like part of that, too. As long as it still fits, I'll still be here!
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Waiting in the Wings
As excited as I am about our new house, I get a little sad when I think of all the things that I've neglected. . . exercise, sleep, seeing friends more, reading, relaxing, reflecting. Having the house is wonderful, but it's just one piece of my life, and I'm ready to have the rest of my life back. I miss the Sundays that Dan and I would spend doing nothing but reading and drinking coffee. I miss the evenings when dinner was something we could sit and enjoy together instead of something we often rush through. I miss volunteering, and going to festivals, and lazy afternoons.
As I sometimes have to remind myself, my work on the house is a choice. If I wanted, I could choose to let the house go for a time and get my focus back to other things. I've done that to an extent (Dan and I have gotten too tired for all house, all the time), but in my mind, so much relies on a calm, peaceful, put-together house. It's difficult for me to look at the chaos around us and just ignore it. From the Myers-Briggs perspective, I am a solid J. Things get done. Lists get crossed off. I do not like loose ends. And I certainly do not like unpacked rooms, unpainted walls, and general mess.
One of my goals in the last year or so has been to make more space in my life for spirituality, reflection, and personal growth. I can get so bogged down in the "to do"s that sometimes I worry I am missing my life. I'm trying to learn to be more flexible, contemplative, and aware and to make sure the things filling my time are those that are most important to me. Prior to our house closing, I had started to do some regular meditations and to work on cultivating more awareness. I was spending more time outside, getting better at doing nothing, and finding some creative outlets. I feel as though, in the last few months, a lot of that has been lost.
I know that, eventually, things will settle down and I will find a new equilibrium. But until some of the "to do"s get crossed off of our house list, there is a part of me just waiting in the wings hoping to make a reappearance. I'm trying to find ways here and there to give her some stage room--taking afternoons off, making trips to the bookstore, and hopefully scheduling in a hike when fall really moves in--but I know that she'll be mostly absent for a while. Over the last few years, my search to find her has not been easy. I worry a little bit that, once the dust settles, I'm going to have a hard time finding her again.
As I sometimes have to remind myself, my work on the house is a choice. If I wanted, I could choose to let the house go for a time and get my focus back to other things. I've done that to an extent (Dan and I have gotten too tired for all house, all the time), but in my mind, so much relies on a calm, peaceful, put-together house. It's difficult for me to look at the chaos around us and just ignore it. From the Myers-Briggs perspective, I am a solid J. Things get done. Lists get crossed off. I do not like loose ends. And I certainly do not like unpacked rooms, unpainted walls, and general mess.
One of my goals in the last year or so has been to make more space in my life for spirituality, reflection, and personal growth. I can get so bogged down in the "to do"s that sometimes I worry I am missing my life. I'm trying to learn to be more flexible, contemplative, and aware and to make sure the things filling my time are those that are most important to me. Prior to our house closing, I had started to do some regular meditations and to work on cultivating more awareness. I was spending more time outside, getting better at doing nothing, and finding some creative outlets. I feel as though, in the last few months, a lot of that has been lost.
I know that, eventually, things will settle down and I will find a new equilibrium. But until some of the "to do"s get crossed off of our house list, there is a part of me just waiting in the wings hoping to make a reappearance. I'm trying to find ways here and there to give her some stage room--taking afternoons off, making trips to the bookstore, and hopefully scheduling in a hike when fall really moves in--but I know that she'll be mostly absent for a while. Over the last few years, my search to find her has not been easy. I worry a little bit that, once the dust settles, I'm going to have a hard time finding her again.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Finding Home
I'm sitting drinking coffee in the kitchen of my new house, looking out into the trees in the backyard, hearing the rain pitter-pat on the roof. The last few weeks have been all about doing and going and pushing through and crossing things off lists. There hasn't really been much time to think, or relax, or reflect, or even take a nice long breath. Even when we've tried to schedule fun activities in between our house projects, there's always been the nagging feeling that there's something we need to get back to.
This morning is the first weekend morning I've had in weeks when I didn't feel like there was something I had to get to right now. Granted, we still have tons to do, but the major things that made our house an unlivable disaster zone (e.g., grease, smells, dirt, flies, and a number of unmentionables) seem to have been addressed. And I think I'm finally reaching that point where this is actually starting to feel like my home and not just a place where I'm temporarily setting up camp.
I recently counted it up and this house is the 17th place I've called home in my life, even when I count college and all its various dorm rooms as one place. Dan's dad was in the navy, so he moved a lot as well. It feels very strange for both of us to think that we are here to stay. That it's worth putting paint on the walls and fixing up things because we won't be leaving in a few months. That we should actually take the time to really get to know our neighbors. That we can think long-term about our plans for this place and how it will grow and change as we do.
We definitely picked this house--with all of its faults--because we knew that it's a place we could stay forever. Granted, life might take us in other directions, but every once in a while I can really imagine Dan and I here in years to come. . . spending holidays together, building a life, having a family. Painting the walls one color and then a few years later changing things up. Spending Sunday mornings on the front porch drinking coffee. Filling our dining room with friends around the table. Knowing that, for the first time, we are tied to a place, and by extension, to the people around us.
I've always envied a bit the people who grew up in the same place, who have only lived in one or two houses, who have always had the people that they love around them. With all the houses that we've lived in, and with our family members scattered everywhere, Dan and I have always known we would never have that. To some degree, that will never change, but I feel as though, for the first time, I have the opportunity to create that. We may not have family here, but we can create a sense of family around us. I will never feel tied to the place where I grew up, but soon enough maybe I will feel like this is the place I've been all along. There are many things about our house that are starting to feel comfortable, but that growing sense that we are where we belong--and that we are here to stay--is perhaps the most comforting thing of all.
This morning is the first weekend morning I've had in weeks when I didn't feel like there was something I had to get to right now. Granted, we still have tons to do, but the major things that made our house an unlivable disaster zone (e.g., grease, smells, dirt, flies, and a number of unmentionables) seem to have been addressed. And I think I'm finally reaching that point where this is actually starting to feel like my home and not just a place where I'm temporarily setting up camp.
I recently counted it up and this house is the 17th place I've called home in my life, even when I count college and all its various dorm rooms as one place. Dan's dad was in the navy, so he moved a lot as well. It feels very strange for both of us to think that we are here to stay. That it's worth putting paint on the walls and fixing up things because we won't be leaving in a few months. That we should actually take the time to really get to know our neighbors. That we can think long-term about our plans for this place and how it will grow and change as we do.
We definitely picked this house--with all of its faults--because we knew that it's a place we could stay forever. Granted, life might take us in other directions, but every once in a while I can really imagine Dan and I here in years to come. . . spending holidays together, building a life, having a family. Painting the walls one color and then a few years later changing things up. Spending Sunday mornings on the front porch drinking coffee. Filling our dining room with friends around the table. Knowing that, for the first time, we are tied to a place, and by extension, to the people around us.
I've always envied a bit the people who grew up in the same place, who have only lived in one or two houses, who have always had the people that they love around them. With all the houses that we've lived in, and with our family members scattered everywhere, Dan and I have always known we would never have that. To some degree, that will never change, but I feel as though, for the first time, I have the opportunity to create that. We may not have family here, but we can create a sense of family around us. I will never feel tied to the place where I grew up, but soon enough maybe I will feel like this is the place I've been all along. There are many things about our house that are starting to feel comfortable, but that growing sense that we are where we belong--and that we are here to stay--is perhaps the most comforting thing of all.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
House (and a new blog)
Hey, y'all.
So, as many of you know, tomorrow is the big day on the house. Settlement is tomorrow, we'll have a week or so to clean (and hopefully get a bit of work done), and we move in on the 30th. Should you be interested in seeing more of the house and following the adventures (or misadventures) of our attempts at do-it-yourself home ownership, you can follow us at a new blog devoted to all things house. We've got some big plans, and we are definitely green when it comes to being handy, so this should be interesting. :)
I'll probably be absent for a while as we get settled in, but I'll be back soon. Wish us luck!
So, as many of you know, tomorrow is the big day on the house. Settlement is tomorrow, we'll have a week or so to clean (and hopefully get a bit of work done), and we move in on the 30th. Should you be interested in seeing more of the house and following the adventures (or misadventures) of our attempts at do-it-yourself home ownership, you can follow us at a new blog devoted to all things house. We've got some big plans, and we are definitely green when it comes to being handy, so this should be interesting. :)
I'll probably be absent for a while as we get settled in, but I'll be back soon. Wish us luck!
Sunday, July 17, 2011
To My Sister on Her Birthday
Today is my little sister's 30th birthday. Despite the fact that it's been over two years since I crossed that threshold myself, I find this a bit hard to digest, as in so many ways she will always be the little girl in pigtails that I played with and imagined with and bossed around (sorry about that, Sis). Though I've tried my best to leave the bossy part of the big sister role behind, now seems a fitting time to embrace the big sister in me that wants to be proud and shower affection and give some big sister advice on this momentous day.
My dearest Melissa (a.k.a. Missy, a.k.a. Seester), having a sister like you is among the greatest joys in my life. To me you are family. Best friend. Partner in silliness. Keeper of secrets. The person who understands me like no one else can.
For both of us, I think the 20s were a lot about answering the question, "What am I going to do?" The big questions were all about finding the right career path, getting the right job, picking the right place to live, choosing the right partner. Thinking over the last decade, I can remember countless late night phone conversations where we struggled with knowing whether we were making the right choices, and how to know when one was right. When we worried about choosing wrong or having regrets. When we compared ourselves to others who seemed to have it all figured out. When we told each other, time and time again, "I don't know what I should do."
Being the highly sensitive, overly anxious, and slightly neurotic people that we are, I'm sure that the "I don't know what to do" questions are bound to continue. And it's nice to know that we will always have each other to call for those. But my sisterly advice to you as you enter this next chapter of life is to leave behind the doing. Let me assure you that, with all the big life questions that the 20s threw at you, you did quite well. I am so proud of the person that you are, of the life you are building, of the choices that you've made, of all the ways you make your mark on the world and make it a more beautiful and compassionate place. You have come into yourself in the most wonderful way, and I can't wait to see all the ways that you will continue to grow.
And so, for your 30s, having wrestled so much with what to do, my sisterly advice to you is to try as much as you can to just be. To know that you have proven time and again that you have what it takes to make the right choices. To know that you will make mistakes, and to know that is okay. To know that you are perfect just as you are. To celebrate all that you are and all that you will grow to be. To try as much as you can to live in that place we lived in when we were little girls, where all that matters is now, where life is not about the big questions but the simple joys, where true happiness comes not from worrying about whether we're getting it right but from singing and dancing and and running and drawing and dreaming and trying and failing without any awareness that there might be a "right" or "wrong" way to live life. And when you find that you're having a hard time doing that, come see me. We'll pull out some bubbles and sidewalk chalk.
Happy 30th birthday, my darling, from a big sister who couldn't be happier to have you in her life.
My dearest Melissa (a.k.a. Missy, a.k.a. Seester), having a sister like you is among the greatest joys in my life. To me you are family. Best friend. Partner in silliness. Keeper of secrets. The person who understands me like no one else can.
For both of us, I think the 20s were a lot about answering the question, "What am I going to do?" The big questions were all about finding the right career path, getting the right job, picking the right place to live, choosing the right partner. Thinking over the last decade, I can remember countless late night phone conversations where we struggled with knowing whether we were making the right choices, and how to know when one was right. When we worried about choosing wrong or having regrets. When we compared ourselves to others who seemed to have it all figured out. When we told each other, time and time again, "I don't know what I should do."
Being the highly sensitive, overly anxious, and slightly neurotic people that we are, I'm sure that the "I don't know what to do" questions are bound to continue. And it's nice to know that we will always have each other to call for those. But my sisterly advice to you as you enter this next chapter of life is to leave behind the doing. Let me assure you that, with all the big life questions that the 20s threw at you, you did quite well. I am so proud of the person that you are, of the life you are building, of the choices that you've made, of all the ways you make your mark on the world and make it a more beautiful and compassionate place. You have come into yourself in the most wonderful way, and I can't wait to see all the ways that you will continue to grow.
And so, for your 30s, having wrestled so much with what to do, my sisterly advice to you is to try as much as you can to just be. To know that you have proven time and again that you have what it takes to make the right choices. To know that you will make mistakes, and to know that is okay. To know that you are perfect just as you are. To celebrate all that you are and all that you will grow to be. To try as much as you can to live in that place we lived in when we were little girls, where all that matters is now, where life is not about the big questions but the simple joys, where true happiness comes not from worrying about whether we're getting it right but from singing and dancing and and running and drawing and dreaming and trying and failing without any awareness that there might be a "right" or "wrong" way to live life. And when you find that you're having a hard time doing that, come see me. We'll pull out some bubbles and sidewalk chalk.
Happy 30th birthday, my darling, from a big sister who couldn't be happier to have you in her life.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
How Can I Love You Better?
Whole Living has become my favorite magazine in the last couple of years. Recently, I read an article called "The Love Experiment: One Question That Changes Everything", and I found it so inspiring and thought-provoking that I felt compelled to share.
The article centers around the author's experience asking the people in her life just one question: "How can I love you better?" Something about that question, phrased in that way, really stopped me in my tracks. When I first looked at it, it seemed like such an obvious question, and yet I don't think it's one that I've ever asked anyone before in such a direct way. I felt so energized and inspired by the thought of it that I imagined myself immediately calling up the ones I love most and asking them how I can love them better. . . until I realized both how potentially awkward and potentially terrifying it might be both to ask the question and to get the answer. Since I first read the article a couple of weeks ago, I've been thinking on and off that it's a question I both want and need to ask. And yet, during that time, I have yet to ask it of anyone.
So, today I share the article in the hopes that a) it might also inspire some of you and b) that a public posting will provide me with the extra motivation to really step up and ask the ones around me how I can love them better. It seems so obvious, but if I want to know how to be a better wife, or a better daughter, or a better sister, or a better friend, perhaps I should just go straight to the source and do both the simplest and the hardest thing: just ask.
The article centers around the author's experience asking the people in her life just one question: "How can I love you better?" Something about that question, phrased in that way, really stopped me in my tracks. When I first looked at it, it seemed like such an obvious question, and yet I don't think it's one that I've ever asked anyone before in such a direct way. I felt so energized and inspired by the thought of it that I imagined myself immediately calling up the ones I love most and asking them how I can love them better. . . until I realized both how potentially awkward and potentially terrifying it might be both to ask the question and to get the answer. Since I first read the article a couple of weeks ago, I've been thinking on and off that it's a question I both want and need to ask. And yet, during that time, I have yet to ask it of anyone.
So, today I share the article in the hopes that a) it might also inspire some of you and b) that a public posting will provide me with the extra motivation to really step up and ask the ones around me how I can love them better. It seems so obvious, but if I want to know how to be a better wife, or a better daughter, or a better sister, or a better friend, perhaps I should just go straight to the source and do both the simplest and the hardest thing: just ask.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Feel the Veggie Love
As you may recall from two summers ago, I am a little obsessed with vegetables. Especially those of the farm-fresh CSA variety. Last summer, we were members of a CSA here but I don't think I posted any photos. Sadly, it was not a very good CSA, leaving me with vegetables so pathetic-looking that they were not exactly worth showcasing. Luckily, we regrouped this year and decided to give another farm a go. We've had a couple of deliveries so far, and I've been pleased, but now that the cucumbers are out, I'm starting to get really excited about all the veggies to come!
This week's delivery: escarole, cucumbers, zucchini, beets, red onions, and yellow stuttgarter onions. With this CSA, we can pick which items we want; this week's delivery didn't have quite as much variety since I doubled up on some heartier items like beets and onions since we're heading out of town for the weekend. We also get a dozen farm fresh eggs every other week. Yum!
This week's delivery: escarole, cucumbers, zucchini, beets, red onions, and yellow stuttgarter onions. With this CSA, we can pick which items we want; this week's delivery didn't have quite as much variety since I doubled up on some heartier items like beets and onions since we're heading out of town for the weekend. We also get a dozen farm fresh eggs every other week. Yum!
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Good Thing: Just Lie Down
This is a favorite quote of mine that I haven't revisited in a while. It probably would have helped me to read this about a week ago!
Stress is basically a disconnection from the earth, a forgetting of the breath. Stress is an ignorant state. It believes that everything is an emergency. Nothing is that important. Just lie down.
~Natalie Goldberg
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Decisions, Decisions
I am sitting at home on a perfect Saturday morning. Dan is gone for the weekend for his annual boys' weekend, I have two sweet kitties dozing nearby, a cup of decaf within reach, and Emiliana Torrini playing in the background. A lovely, still, quiet morning. And a complete contrast to what the rest of my week was like.
Only a few days ago, I was in a complete frenzy, with my head in the toilet and my head in my hands thanks to a stress-induced migraine, wondering how the hell I was going to get through the week and what the hell I was going to do next. This week felt like a marathon where I was pushed and pushed toward the finish line with no stops for water and no gasps for air. Completely and totally grueling.
I have always, always been someone who has trouble making big decisions. With the small, everyday kind of stuff I can be pretty quick and decisive, but for anything that I feel has permanent or semi-permanent consequences, I become a complete and total wreck. Things like choosing a college, picking a major, deciding where to move and whether to take a job have been agonizing ordeals for me. I always seem to worry that I am going to make the wrong choice, even though I know that life is not composed of just right or wrong and that no matter what I decide, things will most likely turn out just fine. In fact, the only big decision I can remember not agonizing about was the decision to marry Dan--which I suppose speaks volumes to just how much I know that man is right for me!
And so, when it came time to buy a house, I always knew that I would be a mess. Just deciding whether or not to move forward with a house purchase is something I've waffled on for over a year now. Once Dan and I found the house we're under contract for, I was amazed at how decisive I felt about it and how comfortable I was with moving forward. I even remember thinking to myself, "Wow, I can't believe I'm not having a complete freak out." Really, though, I should have known that it wasn't that simple--as the 10-day window for inspections and financing started drawing to a close (and as we came closer and closer to actually making it a done deal), the more anxious I became. I managed to ignore my feelings until mid-week ,when my stress exploded into one of my worst migraines in recent memory. So much for calmly and confidently moving forward.
Compounding my stress was the inspection report. It actually came back rather favorably, with no major surprises, and Dan and I were feeling pretty good. But once my home-repair-guru dad and stepdad had a chance to look at it, suddently I wasn't so sure. They were talking us through every ramification of every possible item, telling us of potential costs and presenting worst-case scenarios, and though they were trying their best not to freak me out, my mind tends to jump to worst-case scenarios anyway. All of the information overload and potentially costly unknowns was a deadly formula for a freak out. And so I freaked out. Majorly. Poor Dan.
Eventually, with the help of lots of talks with Dan and Seester and the parents, I talked myself down off the ledge. I remembered that worst-case scenarios were not the most likely ones. I remembered that my gut feelings about the house were good, that objectively the inspection report was pretty solid, and that I had once again fallen into the trap of overanalyzing and overworrying instead of just listening to my intution. Once I made the decision to move forward, I felt perfectly fine with it. For me, just making the decision--and accepting the opportunity costs of that while letting go of alternative paths and worries of regret--is always the hardest part. Once I get past that, I'm usually fine, and I usually realize that the path I'm taking is the one I wanted to go with all along, with lots of wasted energy devoted to worry and overthinking in between.
Of all the bad patterns and habits I'm trying to break, this is the one that bothers me most. My hyper-anxious, overanalyzing self that worries about every consequence of every big decision usually does more to paralyze me than it helps me make the right choice. And I know that it all comes down to the same thing--constantly worrying about making mistakes or doing the wrong thing. And that, my friends, will be taken up with my therapist next week.
Luckily, though, now that the decision is made, the freak out has passed. With just a few inspection negotiations to go, it looks like we are all set to move forward, with a settlement date of July 22. And now that I've let go of all the "what ifs," of all the money worries, of all the things that could go wrong, of all the other houses that could be out there, of all the possible benefits of just staying put, I can put all the possible "wrongs" behind me and focus on what's right: a lovely house in a place we love that's all we hoped for and more. Thinking about that, it's hard to imagine that I ever worried that buying it was a bad decision at all.
Only a few days ago, I was in a complete frenzy, with my head in the toilet and my head in my hands thanks to a stress-induced migraine, wondering how the hell I was going to get through the week and what the hell I was going to do next. This week felt like a marathon where I was pushed and pushed toward the finish line with no stops for water and no gasps for air. Completely and totally grueling.
I have always, always been someone who has trouble making big decisions. With the small, everyday kind of stuff I can be pretty quick and decisive, but for anything that I feel has permanent or semi-permanent consequences, I become a complete and total wreck. Things like choosing a college, picking a major, deciding where to move and whether to take a job have been agonizing ordeals for me. I always seem to worry that I am going to make the wrong choice, even though I know that life is not composed of just right or wrong and that no matter what I decide, things will most likely turn out just fine. In fact, the only big decision I can remember not agonizing about was the decision to marry Dan--which I suppose speaks volumes to just how much I know that man is right for me!
And so, when it came time to buy a house, I always knew that I would be a mess. Just deciding whether or not to move forward with a house purchase is something I've waffled on for over a year now. Once Dan and I found the house we're under contract for, I was amazed at how decisive I felt about it and how comfortable I was with moving forward. I even remember thinking to myself, "Wow, I can't believe I'm not having a complete freak out." Really, though, I should have known that it wasn't that simple--as the 10-day window for inspections and financing started drawing to a close (and as we came closer and closer to actually making it a done deal), the more anxious I became. I managed to ignore my feelings until mid-week ,when my stress exploded into one of my worst migraines in recent memory. So much for calmly and confidently moving forward.
Compounding my stress was the inspection report. It actually came back rather favorably, with no major surprises, and Dan and I were feeling pretty good. But once my home-repair-guru dad and stepdad had a chance to look at it, suddently I wasn't so sure. They were talking us through every ramification of every possible item, telling us of potential costs and presenting worst-case scenarios, and though they were trying their best not to freak me out, my mind tends to jump to worst-case scenarios anyway. All of the information overload and potentially costly unknowns was a deadly formula for a freak out. And so I freaked out. Majorly. Poor Dan.
Eventually, with the help of lots of talks with Dan and Seester and the parents, I talked myself down off the ledge. I remembered that worst-case scenarios were not the most likely ones. I remembered that my gut feelings about the house were good, that objectively the inspection report was pretty solid, and that I had once again fallen into the trap of overanalyzing and overworrying instead of just listening to my intution. Once I made the decision to move forward, I felt perfectly fine with it. For me, just making the decision--and accepting the opportunity costs of that while letting go of alternative paths and worries of regret--is always the hardest part. Once I get past that, I'm usually fine, and I usually realize that the path I'm taking is the one I wanted to go with all along, with lots of wasted energy devoted to worry and overthinking in between.
Of all the bad patterns and habits I'm trying to break, this is the one that bothers me most. My hyper-anxious, overanalyzing self that worries about every consequence of every big decision usually does more to paralyze me than it helps me make the right choice. And I know that it all comes down to the same thing--constantly worrying about making mistakes or doing the wrong thing. And that, my friends, will be taken up with my therapist next week.
Luckily, though, now that the decision is made, the freak out has passed. With just a few inspection negotiations to go, it looks like we are all set to move forward, with a settlement date of July 22. And now that I've let go of all the "what ifs," of all the money worries, of all the things that could go wrong, of all the other houses that could be out there, of all the possible benefits of just staying put, I can put all the possible "wrongs" behind me and focus on what's right: a lovely house in a place we love that's all we hoped for and more. Thinking about that, it's hard to imagine that I ever worried that buying it was a bad decision at all.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Finding a New Rhythm
So far, my new job is going wonderfully. I feel SO good about doing work that has an impact, that means something to me, that uses my skills, and that gives me opportunties to learn. The work is challenging but not overly stressful. My coworkers are great. The kids are adorable and often hilarious, as so many preschoolers are. So far, so good.
As expected, though, I'm having some problems regulating my routine. With the new commute, I have to leave my house about an hour earlier than I used to, though I get home around the same time. Adjusting to one hour isn't a huge difference, but my morning time is so valuable to me. For one, it used to be when I got to the gym; I'm still planning to do that if I can, but I haven't yet been able to adjust my sleep schedule to get up at 5:15 in the morning (yikes). I'm so much less motivated to work out in the evenings, and I find that exercising later in the day makes it difficult for me to get to bed at a reasonable hour. I also find that morning exercise really helps me feel clear-headed and energized at the start of the day, so I really need to try and find a way to get that time in during the morning hours if I can.
I actually think the real problem is getting to bed on time--if I can get to bed earlier, I can get up earlier, but cutting my evening an hour short is an adjustment I have yet to make. I just can't seem to get out of the rhythm of my usual evening routine and typical bedtime. As such, I either haven't been exercising enough or haven't been sleeping well, both of which seem to lead to other bad habits like not eating well. I have eaten undiclosable amounts of ice cream and cookies in the past two weeks, and I don't even usually keep ice cream and cookies in the house. I'm definitely feeling a bit of sorts right now in the area of self-care.
Between the new job and the house (if all goes well, we are scheduled to close July 22), I know that the next couple of months are going to be busy, to say the least. On the one hand, I feel the need to cut myself some slack and not worry too much about getting in exercise and making sure my meals consist of more than bread and cheese and tomato sauce (aka pizza). On the other hand, the times when we are most busy and stressed are the times that we most need good self-care, yes? Oh, the irony that the times we most need to tend to ourselves are the times when it's hardest to do so.
I'm going to try--really hard--to make bedtime a priority in the coming weeks. If I can just get to bed earlier, then I'm hoping I'll slowly be able to get up earlier. And if I can get up earlier, then I can get to the gym. And if I get to the gym, I'll feel inclined to eat better. And then it will just all magically fall into place, right? :) I sure hope it happens in some variation of this, because I'm seriously floundering a bit here, and I'm hoping I can figure out some way to get back on track. I suppose I'll start now by heading off to bed. . . .
As expected, though, I'm having some problems regulating my routine. With the new commute, I have to leave my house about an hour earlier than I used to, though I get home around the same time. Adjusting to one hour isn't a huge difference, but my morning time is so valuable to me. For one, it used to be when I got to the gym; I'm still planning to do that if I can, but I haven't yet been able to adjust my sleep schedule to get up at 5:15 in the morning (yikes). I'm so much less motivated to work out in the evenings, and I find that exercising later in the day makes it difficult for me to get to bed at a reasonable hour. I also find that morning exercise really helps me feel clear-headed and energized at the start of the day, so I really need to try and find a way to get that time in during the morning hours if I can.
I actually think the real problem is getting to bed on time--if I can get to bed earlier, I can get up earlier, but cutting my evening an hour short is an adjustment I have yet to make. I just can't seem to get out of the rhythm of my usual evening routine and typical bedtime. As such, I either haven't been exercising enough or haven't been sleeping well, both of which seem to lead to other bad habits like not eating well. I have eaten undiclosable amounts of ice cream and cookies in the past two weeks, and I don't even usually keep ice cream and cookies in the house. I'm definitely feeling a bit of sorts right now in the area of self-care.
Between the new job and the house (if all goes well, we are scheduled to close July 22), I know that the next couple of months are going to be busy, to say the least. On the one hand, I feel the need to cut myself some slack and not worry too much about getting in exercise and making sure my meals consist of more than bread and cheese and tomato sauce (aka pizza). On the other hand, the times when we are most busy and stressed are the times that we most need good self-care, yes? Oh, the irony that the times we most need to tend to ourselves are the times when it's hardest to do so.
I'm going to try--really hard--to make bedtime a priority in the coming weeks. If I can just get to bed earlier, then I'm hoping I'll slowly be able to get up earlier. And if I can get up earlier, then I can get to the gym. And if I get to the gym, I'll feel inclined to eat better. And then it will just all magically fall into place, right? :) I sure hope it happens in some variation of this, because I'm seriously floundering a bit here, and I'm hoping I can figure out some way to get back on track. I suppose I'll start now by heading off to bed. . . .
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Good Things
So. . . remember that dream house we walked away from a little while ago? Sad as we were to leave it behind, we felt certain that it was the right thing to do given the seller's price constraints. Frustrated that the best opportunity we had didn't work out, we agreed to put the whole house hunt aside for a while and just focus on saving, anticipating that it would be a long while before we were ready to move ahead again.
Amazingly, a week later we got a message from our Realtor. The sellers came back to us and agreed to take our offer (which was low, given that we put it out there as a start to our negotiations) plus $5000. I don't think it is an exaggeration to say that we were stunned by this news and a little unsure what to do, given that we had moved on and lost all emotional attachment to the house. We had also become rather comfortable with the idea of building up our savings nest and continuing to settle in our current place. We asked for a couple of days, feeling completely in limbo and on shaky ground.
I am not someone who believes that there is someone or something out there orchestrating everything. I don't believe that everything happens for a reason (though I do believe there is value in attaching meaning to our experiences, even if we don't understand them at the time). However, I do believe that sometimes there is something (or someone) out there--whether it is our intuition or the Universe or God--gently nudging us in the right direction. When we left this house behind and it miraculously came back to us, it didn't just feel like a nudge--it felt like a unmistakable shove. Having had some of the urgency and pressure taken off of us from the week before, some of the emotional investment dissipated, and such an extraordinary set of circumstances come together to make the house seem within reach, everything pointed to the fact that it was time to make a move.
And so, my friends, it appears that we are buying a house. And not just A house, but THE house. The kind of house we've walked by many times and wished we could have, but never expected to get. The kind that feels so much like "us" and so much like the right place it makes us feel giddy and start dancing in circles. We are under contract, and the inspection is done, with no major surprises. The deal is not sealed 100%, but right now there's no reason to believe that that the house won't be ours. We got an amazing deal, for a house that we love, in a community that we would be heartbroken to leave behind. We are so excited and grateful.
Having wished for so long that so many things--including a new job and a house--would fall into place, I am a little overwhelmed that they both have come to pass so quickly and so beautifully in the last several weeks. My tendency is to want to believe that it's all too good to be true and that the other shoe is going to drop at any moment. And while I know that things won't be perfect, and that not everything will live up to my expectations, I'm going to ignore the voice that waits for the worst. Good things happen all the time, and we are all deserving of them, and there's no rule that says they can't happen all at once. This time, I am going to believe that the good things are coming to me. I feel so grateful for it all.
Amazingly, a week later we got a message from our Realtor. The sellers came back to us and agreed to take our offer (which was low, given that we put it out there as a start to our negotiations) plus $5000. I don't think it is an exaggeration to say that we were stunned by this news and a little unsure what to do, given that we had moved on and lost all emotional attachment to the house. We had also become rather comfortable with the idea of building up our savings nest and continuing to settle in our current place. We asked for a couple of days, feeling completely in limbo and on shaky ground.
I am not someone who believes that there is someone or something out there orchestrating everything. I don't believe that everything happens for a reason (though I do believe there is value in attaching meaning to our experiences, even if we don't understand them at the time). However, I do believe that sometimes there is something (or someone) out there--whether it is our intuition or the Universe or God--gently nudging us in the right direction. When we left this house behind and it miraculously came back to us, it didn't just feel like a nudge--it felt like a unmistakable shove. Having had some of the urgency and pressure taken off of us from the week before, some of the emotional investment dissipated, and such an extraordinary set of circumstances come together to make the house seem within reach, everything pointed to the fact that it was time to make a move.
And so, my friends, it appears that we are buying a house. And not just A house, but THE house. The kind of house we've walked by many times and wished we could have, but never expected to get. The kind that feels so much like "us" and so much like the right place it makes us feel giddy and start dancing in circles. We are under contract, and the inspection is done, with no major surprises. The deal is not sealed 100%, but right now there's no reason to believe that that the house won't be ours. We got an amazing deal, for a house that we love, in a community that we would be heartbroken to leave behind. We are so excited and grateful.
Having wished for so long that so many things--including a new job and a house--would fall into place, I am a little overwhelmed that they both have come to pass so quickly and so beautifully in the last several weeks. My tendency is to want to believe that it's all too good to be true and that the other shoe is going to drop at any moment. And while I know that things won't be perfect, and that not everything will live up to my expectations, I'm going to ignore the voice that waits for the worst. Good things happen all the time, and we are all deserving of them, and there's no rule that says they can't happen all at once. This time, I am going to believe that the good things are coming to me. I feel so grateful for it all.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Opportunity Cost
I should warn you before you begin that this one is a long one. . . .
Last week, Dan and I put in an offer on a house. A house that, for all purposes, could be considered our "dream house": right in the heart of the borough, in walking distance to absolutely everything, hardwood floors, enclosed front porch, deck, three bedrooms + two bonus rooms in the basement, two baths, lots of lighting, a good dose of charm, and 2000 square feet. It was really more than we ever dreamed we could get, and thanks to some needed cosmetics and a divorce, it fell amazingly close to our price range. On the same day as my last day at my old job, we met with our Realtor, took a second look at the house, and put in an offer.
For the next 24 hours, we were on a bit of a high of nerves and excitement and anticipation. It really felt that this might be THE house. The sellers came back with a counteroffer--and let us know what their bottom line was--and though we thought it seemed doable, we decided that we'd better take a hard and fast look at the numbers before we made anything official.
I've usually kept a pretty close eye on our budget, but for the last nine months I've been using a budget spreadsheet very similar to this one to track every bit of our expenses and income so we have a real picture of where our money is going, how much we can really spend, and to keep us focused on saving. These spreadsheets have been a real eye-opener in a lot of ways, and when we sat down to look through them as we were contemplating the offer, they opened our eyes once again. As we started to take a hard look, our feelings of elation and confidence about the house slowly deflated. We realized it was a stretch--too much of a stretch. The higher-than-planned monthly payment combined with all of the work that needed to be done would have just been too much. We realized we might buy the house and then spend our time in it counting every single penny and stressing over every unanticipated expense. It was hard--because the house presented an amazing opportunity to buy our "dream house," one that we suspect might not come again--but we decided to walk away.
I know that, in the end, that was not the house for us. A house that makes us feel knots in the pit of our stomachs about finances before we've even signed a contract is not our house. Still, we feel rather deflated by the whole thing and are now wondering if we can really buy a house at all, and if we should keep moving forward or just put things on hold; whether we are better off just staying put for a while and socking away more money, or if the housing market now presents an opportunity that might not come again, and we'd be foolish to wait. So many unknowns that keep my brain (and my stomach) wrestling and twisting and turning.
Every time we look at the money, I can't help but wonder how other people do it--we are generally pretty conservative when it comes to our finances and have decent (though non-profit) salaries, and even though we live in a relatively expensive area, it's hard not to feel like a bit of a failure sometimes that we can't seem to do something as basic as buying a house. Perhaps our standards are too high (though I feel they are rather modest), or perhaps we just need to buckle down more or get second jobs, or perhaps we just don't know everyone's situation (perhaps they all got big checks from their parents to help with down payments), but it's hard sometimes not to feel that we're coming up short.
One thing I can't help wondering about, though, is at what point you just decide to take a leap of faith. When it comes to many things--and especially to money--I often find it hard to know the line between having faith that things will work out and making a wise, informed decision. We've talked to people who, when they bought their own houses, didn't do any major number crunching or even think things through too carefully, but somehow things worked themselves out and it's turned out great. Of course, there are so many others (mostly the ones you hear about in the headlines) who took that leap, and it ended in disaster. I tend to freak out about making big decisions (especially anything that feels "permanent") and to have a lot of anxiety about money, so I always have to be aware of how those feelings are coming into play. I feel confident that we made the right decision with this house (the numbers really didn't lie in that case), but going forward, I'm not really sure where to draw the line.
And, in general, home buying involves two of my biggest Achilles heels: the unknowns, and the what ifs. We can look at how much house we can afford now, but what if we have kids in the future? How will we pay for both our house payment and the outrageous costs of childcare? What happens if one of us loses a job? What happens if we need major maintenance, or the home inspector misses something big? How much can we anticipate salary increases or career advancements? There is so much that can't be known, and it makes it so hard to make a decision.
In the end, I think we are still going to at least try to keep an eye on things, and keep saving money, and hopefully when something comes along, we'll know if it's right. Despite all my number crunching, I can't tell if I'm being practical or overly cautious (or, even worse, if I'm letting fear paralyze me), if I'm being smart or if I'm being paranoid and cynical, if it really is the case that now is the right time for us or if I'm just letting what I want--rather than what I can really afford--take control of the decision making process. Right now, I have not a clue on all fronts, and all the questions and worries of missed opportunities just won't stop nagging me.
Last week, Dan and I put in an offer on a house. A house that, for all purposes, could be considered our "dream house": right in the heart of the borough, in walking distance to absolutely everything, hardwood floors, enclosed front porch, deck, three bedrooms + two bonus rooms in the basement, two baths, lots of lighting, a good dose of charm, and 2000 square feet. It was really more than we ever dreamed we could get, and thanks to some needed cosmetics and a divorce, it fell amazingly close to our price range. On the same day as my last day at my old job, we met with our Realtor, took a second look at the house, and put in an offer.
For the next 24 hours, we were on a bit of a high of nerves and excitement and anticipation. It really felt that this might be THE house. The sellers came back with a counteroffer--and let us know what their bottom line was--and though we thought it seemed doable, we decided that we'd better take a hard and fast look at the numbers before we made anything official.
I've usually kept a pretty close eye on our budget, but for the last nine months I've been using a budget spreadsheet very similar to this one to track every bit of our expenses and income so we have a real picture of where our money is going, how much we can really spend, and to keep us focused on saving. These spreadsheets have been a real eye-opener in a lot of ways, and when we sat down to look through them as we were contemplating the offer, they opened our eyes once again. As we started to take a hard look, our feelings of elation and confidence about the house slowly deflated. We realized it was a stretch--too much of a stretch. The higher-than-planned monthly payment combined with all of the work that needed to be done would have just been too much. We realized we might buy the house and then spend our time in it counting every single penny and stressing over every unanticipated expense. It was hard--because the house presented an amazing opportunity to buy our "dream house," one that we suspect might not come again--but we decided to walk away.
I know that, in the end, that was not the house for us. A house that makes us feel knots in the pit of our stomachs about finances before we've even signed a contract is not our house. Still, we feel rather deflated by the whole thing and are now wondering if we can really buy a house at all, and if we should keep moving forward or just put things on hold; whether we are better off just staying put for a while and socking away more money, or if the housing market now presents an opportunity that might not come again, and we'd be foolish to wait. So many unknowns that keep my brain (and my stomach) wrestling and twisting and turning.
Every time we look at the money, I can't help but wonder how other people do it--we are generally pretty conservative when it comes to our finances and have decent (though non-profit) salaries, and even though we live in a relatively expensive area, it's hard not to feel like a bit of a failure sometimes that we can't seem to do something as basic as buying a house. Perhaps our standards are too high (though I feel they are rather modest), or perhaps we just need to buckle down more or get second jobs, or perhaps we just don't know everyone's situation (perhaps they all got big checks from their parents to help with down payments), but it's hard sometimes not to feel that we're coming up short.
One thing I can't help wondering about, though, is at what point you just decide to take a leap of faith. When it comes to many things--and especially to money--I often find it hard to know the line between having faith that things will work out and making a wise, informed decision. We've talked to people who, when they bought their own houses, didn't do any major number crunching or even think things through too carefully, but somehow things worked themselves out and it's turned out great. Of course, there are so many others (mostly the ones you hear about in the headlines) who took that leap, and it ended in disaster. I tend to freak out about making big decisions (especially anything that feels "permanent") and to have a lot of anxiety about money, so I always have to be aware of how those feelings are coming into play. I feel confident that we made the right decision with this house (the numbers really didn't lie in that case), but going forward, I'm not really sure where to draw the line.
And, in general, home buying involves two of my biggest Achilles heels: the unknowns, and the what ifs. We can look at how much house we can afford now, but what if we have kids in the future? How will we pay for both our house payment and the outrageous costs of childcare? What happens if one of us loses a job? What happens if we need major maintenance, or the home inspector misses something big? How much can we anticipate salary increases or career advancements? There is so much that can't be known, and it makes it so hard to make a decision.
In the end, I think we are still going to at least try to keep an eye on things, and keep saving money, and hopefully when something comes along, we'll know if it's right. Despite all my number crunching, I can't tell if I'm being practical or overly cautious (or, even worse, if I'm letting fear paralyze me), if I'm being smart or if I'm being paranoid and cynical, if it really is the case that now is the right time for us or if I'm just letting what I want--rather than what I can really afford--take control of the decision making process. Right now, I have not a clue on all fronts, and all the questions and worries of missed opportunities just won't stop nagging me.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Good Thing: "Adam"
Several weeks ago, the Blockbuster down the street from me closed its doors. They were selling DVDs for $2.50, and when I popped in to see what I could find, I came across "Adam," a movie that I watched a year or so ago and loved but had completely forgotten about. It tells the story of a romance between a neurotypical woman and her neighbor with Asperger's.
When I decided to buy the movie, I wasn't really thinking at all about autism or Asperger's, but just remembering that "Adam" was a movie I enjoyed. I didn't have a clue that my work would take me back into the field of autism spectrum disorders. Knowing now that is where I am headed, I decided that was all the more reason to watch it again. And I have to say that I found it to be moving and quirky and just lovely.
"Adam" is one of those movies I think everyone should see because it helps to tell the story of a disorder that is so often misunderstood in a compelling and honest way. If you don't know much about Asperger's, or if you would like to know more, or if you'd just like to see a smart, charming romance and a Sundance favorite, then I certainly recommend that you see it!
When I decided to buy the movie, I wasn't really thinking at all about autism or Asperger's, but just remembering that "Adam" was a movie I enjoyed. I didn't have a clue that my work would take me back into the field of autism spectrum disorders. Knowing now that is where I am headed, I decided that was all the more reason to watch it again. And I have to say that I found it to be moving and quirky and just lovely.
"Adam" is one of those movies I think everyone should see because it helps to tell the story of a disorder that is so often misunderstood in a compelling and honest way. If you don't know much about Asperger's, or if you would like to know more, or if you'd just like to see a smart, charming romance and a Sundance favorite, then I certainly recommend that you see it!
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Sunset at The Grand Canyon
Last spring, I had my first visit to a national park with a visit to Yosemite. I know I have waxed on many times about how glorious that trip was for me, but it truly affected me in the most profound way, and I couldn't wait until I could repeat the experience at national park #2: The Grand Canyon.
Unlike Yosemite--which I had heard little to nothing about--one has undoubtedly heard many reports of The Grand Canyon. Last year, a colleague returned from a trip there and explained his experience looking into that vast expanse as a feeling that "We are so small, and God is so great." One person told me about how her husband found it so overwhelming he could barely look at it for more than short periods at a time. Just comprehending the Canyon's depth--a mile down below--seems so impossible that it was easy to imagine that it was just too much.
When we first arrived at The Grand Canyon, parked our car at a vista point, and took in the view below, it was definitely magnificent. Certainly vast. Certainly unlike anything I'd ever seen before. But, if I'm being honest, at first I was a bit underwhelmed. Had my expectations not been so high and the reports of the Canyon's grandeur not been so great, I'm sure I would have been floored, but given what I'd heard (not to mention the countless postcard-perfect photographs I'd seen), I found it to be beautiful, but not quite as overwhelming and incomprehensible as I'd imagined. I wasn't disappointed--just a little surprised not be completely and totally blown away.
I learned, as the day went on, that part of the Canyon's magic and mystique comes from seeing it from different perspectives. As we drove and walked and took the shuttle from vista point to vista point, the grandeur of the place started to sink in and there were endless beautiful views, but something still wasn't quite clicking for me. I did not feel the same instant love--or the same feelings of intimacy--that I experienced at Yosemite. Perhaps it was the vastness of it. Perhaps it was the seeming lack of variety in the landscape (rock after rock after rock). Perhaps it was the lack of abundant trees (I'm a girl who loves her green). It was beautiful, no doubt, but it didn't stir my soul in the same way.
At the start of the day, we (me, Dan, his mom, and his sister) had decided that we were going to stick around the park until sunset. About eight hours later, plagued by vertigo and sunburnt skin and dehydration, tired from endless walking and shuttling about and waiting for each other countless times for bathroom breaks, I wondered if we really had the stamina to give it a go, and if it would really be worth it. For a moment I contemplated suggesting we just go back to the hotel, but then it felt silly not to just stick around for another hour, so I dug deep for a second wind.
We opted to forgo the most popular sunset viewing spot and picked another vista point. Compared to other points at the park, it was pretty sparsely populated--about a dozen or so other people sat nearby. We carefully climbed over the low wall to stake out our spot. It's hard to comprehend from this photo, but just over the edge of where I'm sitting here is, in fact, a long mile down.
After a day of looking at The Grand Canyon from dozens of spots, and after taking dozens of photos, I feel that, in many ways, sitting there out on that point at sunset was the first time I truly saw The Grand Canyon. The harsh light of day had softened, and the sun brought the colors and textures to life in the most incredible way. The crowds were gone, and we were seated with a small group of people who rarely spoke in little more than a whisper. After a while, the cameras were mostly put away. We were there, not looking for a few minutes and then moving on to the next spot, but sitting quietly for well over half an hour, just waiting for the sun to slowly descend. Once I had that moment to really just be with The Grand Canyon--rather than to be a spectator of it--my heart opened up to it in a new way. I had tried to be present with it all day but had not found the right moment until then. Even now, just thinking about the way it felt sitting there with the golden sun all around, in the chilling wind, with the vastness all around me and down below me, with the sun setting fire to the colors, makes my chest ache with the memory of the beauty of the landscape, the feeling of peace, and the sense of oneness with everything.
I could post dozens of other photos from our trip, but you've likely seen them on my Facebook page. If you haven't, the others I took look at lot like the ones you've probably seen in books or in calendars or those from other people's trips. We got some really nice ones, but the one above is my favorite. At the time, I didn't even know that Dan was taking this photo, but for me it captures the moment where I felt that feeling of awe. That feeling of being one with something so big and beautiful and knowing that somehow, in some way, we are all where we should be. That feeling of wanting to shout and dance and sing about the beauty of life and all the wonderment in the world. That was what I had come for. And The Grand Canyon did not disappoint.
Unlike Yosemite--which I had heard little to nothing about--one has undoubtedly heard many reports of The Grand Canyon. Last year, a colleague returned from a trip there and explained his experience looking into that vast expanse as a feeling that "We are so small, and God is so great." One person told me about how her husband found it so overwhelming he could barely look at it for more than short periods at a time. Just comprehending the Canyon's depth--a mile down below--seems so impossible that it was easy to imagine that it was just too much.
When we first arrived at The Grand Canyon, parked our car at a vista point, and took in the view below, it was definitely magnificent. Certainly vast. Certainly unlike anything I'd ever seen before. But, if I'm being honest, at first I was a bit underwhelmed. Had my expectations not been so high and the reports of the Canyon's grandeur not been so great, I'm sure I would have been floored, but given what I'd heard (not to mention the countless postcard-perfect photographs I'd seen), I found it to be beautiful, but not quite as overwhelming and incomprehensible as I'd imagined. I wasn't disappointed--just a little surprised not be completely and totally blown away.
I learned, as the day went on, that part of the Canyon's magic and mystique comes from seeing it from different perspectives. As we drove and walked and took the shuttle from vista point to vista point, the grandeur of the place started to sink in and there were endless beautiful views, but something still wasn't quite clicking for me. I did not feel the same instant love--or the same feelings of intimacy--that I experienced at Yosemite. Perhaps it was the vastness of it. Perhaps it was the seeming lack of variety in the landscape (rock after rock after rock). Perhaps it was the lack of abundant trees (I'm a girl who loves her green). It was beautiful, no doubt, but it didn't stir my soul in the same way.
At the start of the day, we (me, Dan, his mom, and his sister) had decided that we were going to stick around the park until sunset. About eight hours later, plagued by vertigo and sunburnt skin and dehydration, tired from endless walking and shuttling about and waiting for each other countless times for bathroom breaks, I wondered if we really had the stamina to give it a go, and if it would really be worth it. For a moment I contemplated suggesting we just go back to the hotel, but then it felt silly not to just stick around for another hour, so I dug deep for a second wind.
We opted to forgo the most popular sunset viewing spot and picked another vista point. Compared to other points at the park, it was pretty sparsely populated--about a dozen or so other people sat nearby. We carefully climbed over the low wall to stake out our spot. It's hard to comprehend from this photo, but just over the edge of where I'm sitting here is, in fact, a long mile down.
After a day of looking at The Grand Canyon from dozens of spots, and after taking dozens of photos, I feel that, in many ways, sitting there out on that point at sunset was the first time I truly saw The Grand Canyon. The harsh light of day had softened, and the sun brought the colors and textures to life in the most incredible way. The crowds were gone, and we were seated with a small group of people who rarely spoke in little more than a whisper. After a while, the cameras were mostly put away. We were there, not looking for a few minutes and then moving on to the next spot, but sitting quietly for well over half an hour, just waiting for the sun to slowly descend. Once I had that moment to really just be with The Grand Canyon--rather than to be a spectator of it--my heart opened up to it in a new way. I had tried to be present with it all day but had not found the right moment until then. Even now, just thinking about the way it felt sitting there with the golden sun all around, in the chilling wind, with the vastness all around me and down below me, with the sun setting fire to the colors, makes my chest ache with the memory of the beauty of the landscape, the feeling of peace, and the sense of oneness with everything.I could post dozens of other photos from our trip, but you've likely seen them on my Facebook page. If you haven't, the others I took look at lot like the ones you've probably seen in books or in calendars or those from other people's trips. We got some really nice ones, but the one above is my favorite. At the time, I didn't even know that Dan was taking this photo, but for me it captures the moment where I felt that feeling of awe. That feeling of being one with something so big and beautiful and knowing that somehow, in some way, we are all where we should be. That feeling of wanting to shout and dance and sing about the beauty of life and all the wonderment in the world. That was what I had come for. And The Grand Canyon did not disappoint.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Year 32
Truthfully I'm not even sure what's happened to the last three weeks. In my memory everything is just one big blur: birthday celebrations, visits with friends, a job interview and an offer and salary negotiations, walks in the spring sunshine, a Passover Seder and an Easter brunch, looking at houses, a dinner with relatives, phone dates, volunteering at The Philadelphia International Festival of the Arts. . . the list goes on and on.
Thus has begun the first few weeks of my 32nd year. I decided, about a week before my birthday, that this year was going to be the best one yet. Not that I know that to be true, but that I need to believe it to be true--and perhaps believing it is the first step to making it happen. On my 32nd birthday, while walking around the mall with Dan before popping into The Cheesecake Factory for a birthday treat, I got a call. A call with a job offer. Very exciting indeed. After several days going back and forth about salary and start date, of weighing all the pros and cons of an awesome job with a lousy commute, of trying to silence the endless stream of "What ifs?" that are always in my head, of reminding myself that what is familiar is not always best and that I can't plan for every contingency, I took the job. I start May 31. I can't wait to begin this new chapter getting back to work that really means something to me--supporting children with disabilities (in this case, autism) and their families, at an awesome organization, in a move that will help propel my career forward.
I feel as though I've been scrambling up a wall and tumbling back down for months and months, just needing something to happen. Now, finally, I feel like I've made some headway over the top. Things are starting to move in the direction I've been hoping for, making it so much easier to hope for more. Along with the job, there has been other good news. After spending the last few years really wishing for friends nearby, Dan and I both realized this week that we've had so many outings with new friends that we're looking forward to some time to ourselves! Dan got a story accepted for publication in a print journal last week, which is amazing, and his mom, who graduates with her Masters in Library Science on Friday, just landed a job. The weight loss I began last year has turned into maintaining my new weight for the last several months--no easy feat. And who can feel anything but good with this amazing spring weather?
Though there's still lots I'm hoping and waiting for, including finding a house to buy and getting my business launched part-time (both of which are on hold for a bit), I feel like I can finally take a moment to breathe. As much as I've tried to stay focused on the present and be grateful for the endless blessings in my life, I haven't been able to help wanting more and wishing I could get a break. I've spent a lot of time in the last year or so paralyzed by doubt and fear and having moments where I've been convinced that things just couldn't go my way. I feel like, with these new good things, I feel empowered to make more things happen.
On Wednesday, Dan and I leave for Arizona to attend his mother's graduation. Later in the week, we are driving to The Grand Canyon, where we'll stay for two days. I've been told that nothing can prepare you for what you experience at The Grand Canyon when standing on its rim. I can't wait to be there, looking out over something so vast and ancient and unknowable, knowing that I will likely feel just as I felt at Yosemite--that everything is so mysterious and out of my control, and yet, all in its rightful place. As I wait for the next pieces to fall into place over the next year, I feel reassured that even though there is much that is unknown and worrisome, with a little hope and some acts of faith on my part, things will probably unfold as they should. And even if they don't, I can't avoid peering over the edge of that big abyss and risk missing the wonder that might be in store.
I'm hoping that, as I begin the next year, I'll leave behind the doubts and fears that have plagued me and keep moving forward to create a better version of myself and my life. I feel good. And happy. And hopeful. Here's to a great start to my 32nd year!
Thus has begun the first few weeks of my 32nd year. I decided, about a week before my birthday, that this year was going to be the best one yet. Not that I know that to be true, but that I need to believe it to be true--and perhaps believing it is the first step to making it happen. On my 32nd birthday, while walking around the mall with Dan before popping into The Cheesecake Factory for a birthday treat, I got a call. A call with a job offer. Very exciting indeed. After several days going back and forth about salary and start date, of weighing all the pros and cons of an awesome job with a lousy commute, of trying to silence the endless stream of "What ifs?" that are always in my head, of reminding myself that what is familiar is not always best and that I can't plan for every contingency, I took the job. I start May 31. I can't wait to begin this new chapter getting back to work that really means something to me--supporting children with disabilities (in this case, autism) and their families, at an awesome organization, in a move that will help propel my career forward.
I feel as though I've been scrambling up a wall and tumbling back down for months and months, just needing something to happen. Now, finally, I feel like I've made some headway over the top. Things are starting to move in the direction I've been hoping for, making it so much easier to hope for more. Along with the job, there has been other good news. After spending the last few years really wishing for friends nearby, Dan and I both realized this week that we've had so many outings with new friends that we're looking forward to some time to ourselves! Dan got a story accepted for publication in a print journal last week, which is amazing, and his mom, who graduates with her Masters in Library Science on Friday, just landed a job. The weight loss I began last year has turned into maintaining my new weight for the last several months--no easy feat. And who can feel anything but good with this amazing spring weather?
Though there's still lots I'm hoping and waiting for, including finding a house to buy and getting my business launched part-time (both of which are on hold for a bit), I feel like I can finally take a moment to breathe. As much as I've tried to stay focused on the present and be grateful for the endless blessings in my life, I haven't been able to help wanting more and wishing I could get a break. I've spent a lot of time in the last year or so paralyzed by doubt and fear and having moments where I've been convinced that things just couldn't go my way. I feel like, with these new good things, I feel empowered to make more things happen.
On Wednesday, Dan and I leave for Arizona to attend his mother's graduation. Later in the week, we are driving to The Grand Canyon, where we'll stay for two days. I've been told that nothing can prepare you for what you experience at The Grand Canyon when standing on its rim. I can't wait to be there, looking out over something so vast and ancient and unknowable, knowing that I will likely feel just as I felt at Yosemite--that everything is so mysterious and out of my control, and yet, all in its rightful place. As I wait for the next pieces to fall into place over the next year, I feel reassured that even though there is much that is unknown and worrisome, with a little hope and some acts of faith on my part, things will probably unfold as they should. And even if they don't, I can't avoid peering over the edge of that big abyss and risk missing the wonder that might be in store.
I'm hoping that, as I begin the next year, I'll leave behind the doubts and fears that have plagued me and keep moving forward to create a better version of myself and my life. I feel good. And happy. And hopeful. Here's to a great start to my 32nd year!
Monday, April 18, 2011
This I Believe
While taking a class at my church, our minister encouraged everyone in the class to write our own "This I Believe" statements. If you're not familiar, This I Believe encourages people to write and submit essays about their core values and beliefs. In addition to being posted on their website, essays are regularly featured on NPR.
I've actually contemplated doing something like this before, but there was never any real impetus to do it. Nudged into action by my minister and classmates, I wrote my belief statement in a couple of hours on a Monday night. I was a little surprised at what actually came out--but looking at it again a few weeks later, I can see that it fits perfectly. At my minister's request, I shared it with the congregation during a Sunday service a couple of weeks ago. I thought that I might also share it with you.
This I Believe: March 21, 2011
I've actually contemplated doing something like this before, but there was never any real impetus to do it. Nudged into action by my minister and classmates, I wrote my belief statement in a couple of hours on a Monday night. I was a little surprised at what actually came out--but looking at it again a few weeks later, I can see that it fits perfectly. At my minister's request, I shared it with the congregation during a Sunday service a couple of weeks ago. I thought that I might also share it with you.
This I Believe: March 21, 2011
I am the girl who does not kill bugs. The girl who gets annoyed with her husband when he squishes a fruit fly. The girl who makes a secret pact with the spider in the corner that if he promises not to crawl on me during the night, I will pretend I never saw him.
My reason for not killing bugs is not because I particularly like them (I don’t). It is not because I don’t want to be cruel (though I don’t). It is not because I believe in reincarnation and think one day I might come back as a bug myself (though I don’t rule out the possibility). It is because, more than anything, I value the gift of life so much that I don’t want to rob anyone—or anything—of even a few precious moments of breath.
I believe that life is short and full and messy and fragile and indescribably, almost painfully, beautiful. There are times that I look at the sun through the leaves or taste the first strawberries of spring or rub my hands along the table my grandfather made and find it all so wonderful that I can hardly breathe. The richness of the world astounds me, and I believe the greatest tragedy would be to be here and to miss it.
I believe my highest tasks are to savor every moment of this life I’ve been given, and to do all that I can to ensure that others can do the same. It is for these reasons that I sometimes swing at the playground on my lunch breaks, that I encourage my coworkers to take every last one of their vacation days, that I chose a career as a social worker to help others have every opportunity at a full and joyous life. It is for these reasons that I try with all my might to stop and to breathe and to look and to listen and to feel and to feel and to feel. And it is for these reasons that I do not kill bugs, for who is to say that their short life on Earth is of lesser value than mine?
It’s likely that the bugs I ignore or take outside will, at best, live a matter of weeks or months. It’s even more likely that they will get stepped on, or drown in a puddle, or get eaten by a hungry bird. But until that happens, perhaps they will enjoy a tasty leaf, or feel the warmth of the sun, or emerge from the chrysalis into something beautiful and new. And I believe that they deserve those small joys, even if they don’t recognize them as such. Knowing that we are all but tiny specks on a continuum beyond our understanding, I believe that we all have the right—and the responsibility—to savor every moment we are given on this Earth. Every person, every animal, every being. Even the bugs.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Sometimes, You Just Need a Little Sun
Though I sit writing on a rainy, chilly day, we have finally had some days here where it seems that spring has sprung. The daffodils have peeked out of the ground, the trees are in bloom, and the temperature has reached 70+ degrees at least a little here and there. Last weekend, for the first time in a long time, I realized that the day was filled with sounds of birds in the trees. When I head out to the gym at 6:30 in the morning, it's actually light outside and I'm not bundled up in a winter coat and gloves (this definitely makes it much easier to get moving).
I am a true lover of the seasons. I adore the fall and winter months. I've never considered myself to be someone who was affected much by the long, gray days of winter. But it seems that the arrival of spring is really making a big difference in my mood. . . and my optimism.
This week, I began my usual routine of taking walks on my lunch breaks whenever I can. I'm fortunate that my office is in a pretty residential area, so it's easy for me to get away from traffic and people and take long walks on quiet streets with nothing but my thoughts and my iPod. In addition to that, Dan and I have been taking short walks after work whenever we can. Last Thursday, we were walking down the tree-lined streets of our happy little town and I just closed my eyes, feeling the sun on my face and breathing in the spring air.
When I find myself in the messes and crises and worries that one sometimes finds oneself in, I tend to think that I need a big change: a new job, a new house, a vacation. And it's true that I might those things. But sometimes--in the meantime--the littlest things can really do the trick. Sometimes you don't need a grand gesture or a big change or a neatly wrapped solution. Sometimes, it seems, all you need is a little sun.
I am a true lover of the seasons. I adore the fall and winter months. I've never considered myself to be someone who was affected much by the long, gray days of winter. But it seems that the arrival of spring is really making a big difference in my mood. . . and my optimism.
This week, I began my usual routine of taking walks on my lunch breaks whenever I can. I'm fortunate that my office is in a pretty residential area, so it's easy for me to get away from traffic and people and take long walks on quiet streets with nothing but my thoughts and my iPod. In addition to that, Dan and I have been taking short walks after work whenever we can. Last Thursday, we were walking down the tree-lined streets of our happy little town and I just closed my eyes, feeling the sun on my face and breathing in the spring air.
When I find myself in the messes and crises and worries that one sometimes finds oneself in, I tend to think that I need a big change: a new job, a new house, a vacation. And it's true that I might those things. But sometimes--in the meantime--the littlest things can really do the trick. Sometimes you don't need a grand gesture or a big change or a neatly wrapped solution. Sometimes, it seems, all you need is a little sun.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
What I Need Today
Unsurprisingly, I haven't found many answers in response to my mini-crisis of the past week (wouldn't it be nice if things wrapped themselves up that neatly?). Right now, I think the hardest part is figuring out what I need, and what I need to do next. Thankfully, I'm not completely without hope or in the pits of despair. (As a side note, should I report that I have failed to change out of pajamas for two days, that I have eaten nothing but popcorn, Bagel Bites, and ice cream for more than 24 hours, and that I am watching endless episodes of "Party of Five" on DVD, then you will know I have reached that point.)
I have a lot to think (and feel) through and a lot to figure out. When I think about it all--and I am a classic overthinker--I start to feel like I can't breathe. So, I am here to remind myself that I don't have to figure it all out today. As much as my brain loves to zoom into the future, I don't need to know right now exactly what I need to get myself to the finish line. And, even then, there is no finish line. We are all works in progress, which really is a good thing, even though it sometimes doesn't feel that way.
Instead of trying to figure out what I need to jump start the next big chapter of my life, I'm just going to start with what I need today. What my little soul needs to get some care and love and energy and faith. What it needs to take one step forward. So, little mind and body, here is what you should work on acquiring ASAP to help get your heart and soul in order:
I have a lot to think (and feel) through and a lot to figure out. When I think about it all--and I am a classic overthinker--I start to feel like I can't breathe. So, I am here to remind myself that I don't have to figure it all out today. As much as my brain loves to zoom into the future, I don't need to know right now exactly what I need to get myself to the finish line. And, even then, there is no finish line. We are all works in progress, which really is a good thing, even though it sometimes doesn't feel that way.
Instead of trying to figure out what I need to jump start the next big chapter of my life, I'm just going to start with what I need today. What my little soul needs to get some care and love and energy and faith. What it needs to take one step forward. So, little mind and body, here is what you should work on acquiring ASAP to help get your heart and soul in order:
- A cup of mint tea. When in doubt, always start with a cup of tea.
- Some time among the trees. It's possible that so much time indoors over the winter months has made you a bit crazy. Get thee to the park. Lay in the grass. Take a hike. Remember how much the trees and the sounds of the birds and the smell of the clean air make you feel new again.
- Deep breaths. You must do this. Even when you think you can't make your heart and mind stop racing long enough to make it happen.
- Five minutes a day doing absolutely nothing but watching the cats. That's right. Just sit and stare at them. See how happy they are, stretching in the sun? How peaceful they look napping on the sofa? They are not thinking about what they did yesterday or worrying about what they'll do tomorrow. They just sleep, and play, and look forward to their next tasty treat. They just. . . are. Very wise. A very good example.
- Dancing time. As a start, might I suggest "Walking on Sunshine" and "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)" to get you moving.
- Along that line, time to listen to cheesy songs that strangely make you feel better even though you are embarrassed to admit it. Songs like Jordin Sparks' "One Step at a Time" and Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror" and Kirk Franklin's "Gonna Be a Lovely Day." (Yep, that's right, I just publicly admitted that I have all of these songs on my iPod.)
- Dan hugs. Also, copious amounts of snuggle time.
- Lots of stretching right before bed. You are a classic tension carrier. Don't take all that stress with you into your dreams.
- Some inspiration. Project for the week: make an inspiration binder. Find all those wonderful quotes that make you feel strong and all those articles and blog posts that give you energy and all the nice letters and e-mails that tell you how fabulous you are. Put them in one place. In a place where they are always nearby. In a place where you can see them and read them over and over anytime you need them.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Stuck
The best way to describe my mental state of late can best be described in one work: "stuck." I feel stuck in my house. Stuck at my job. Stuck in bad habits. Stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck.
I realize, of course, that it is within my power to get unstuck. I'm just having some trouble figuring out how to do that, or what "unstuck" would even look like for me.
On the house front, we haven't found much in the way of real possibilities. Of course, it's still early in the game, but it's definitely been a bit frustrating to have all the momentum of finding a Realtor and getting together our financing and making the decision to make the leap and then just . . . waiting. We'll find the right house. I know we will. But until then, it's hard to stop endlessly daydreaming about home decorating and renovations, which is fun to think about but also a little frustrating when you can't actually do it.
On the job/career front, things are a bit more complicated. I have totally reached a state of inertia with my business planning. This is not good, but it is the truth, and I've been trying to figure out what is going on. I know that a big part of it is probably fear of failure--as I get closer to the actual point of launch, the point at which I actually need to take a real risk comes closer and closer, and I am sometimes lousy at risk-taking. I knew the fear of failure hurdle would probably be the biggest one for me to jump.
It's a little more than that, though. To be honest, while a lot of my initial excitement about the prospect of launching has slowly faded away (or been overshadowed by other feelings), so has the encouragement of a lot of family and friends, which I guess I was relying on more than I realized. People have stopped asking me much about my business plans, or at least asking me about it with any enthusiasm. I don't blame them, since I haven't talked much about it, but it has definitely fed my self-doubt. When I went home to Georgia, I sent an e-mail to my family and friends asking if they (or anyone they knew) had any organizing projects I could help them with for free to help build my portfolio. I got only one response, and zero takers. Perhaps people didn't need any help, or perhaps no one reads e-mail anymore, but it's hard to believe in what I'm doing if my family and friends aren't even interested in my services when I'm offering them up for free. Sigh. I know their lack of response wasn't necessarily a reflection on how they feel about my business, and I know that as an entrepreneur I can't rely on outside reinforcement all the time, but I was already feeling a little low about things, and that just seemed to push me deeper into the hole of self-doubt that I'm having trouble crawling out of.
So, yes. That is not good. I must get out of my self-doubt funk. This is, naturally, easier said than done.
On top of all that, my time at home made me finally acknowledge something I've known for a long time: I really need to find a new job. When I was answering the usual "How's your job going?" question while talking to family and friends, I could barely even answer it because I hate talking about my job that much. Two people told me, "You sound like you need to get out of there," and they are right. I've known that I needed to get out for a long time (pretty much since I started), but I've been trying to figure out this balance between my long-term and short-term needs. Long-term, I know that doing something like my business would make me happiest, but it's not something that will happen overnight. While I want to really make a career shift and not just a job change, I'm working at a job that in a lot of ways sucks the life out of me and chips away at my feelings of self-efficacy, which is counterproductive for a business launch. I'm definitely finding that trying to get my business going while working a job that gnaws away at pieces of me is not really working out so well.
I've been thinking for the last few weeks about looking for another job. I definitely need a change, and even though it's not the long-term change I'm hoping for, perhaps it will still be for the best. Unfortunately, though, it's probably going to mean a delay of my long-term plans: a job search consumes so much time and energy, and I will probably need some time to adjust to the changes of a new job before I'm ready to refocus my energy on the business again. There is, also, the possible implications on what a new job would mean for our home financing, as I'm not sure a loan officer would look favorably on a switch, so I could put our home buying in jeopardy. And to be honest, none of the jobs I've seen out there really excite me. The upside of knowing what I want to do long-term is that I know what I'd like to do. The downside is that anything that's not that doesn't feel worth doing. So I'm faced with wondering whether I find anything I can have at least some enthusiasm for, put in the energy to go for it, and then adjust to it all while not losing sight of my long-term goals, which will inevitably be put on hold.
And, so, this is where I'm at. And to be honest, it kind of sucks. I'm usually pretty good at putting a positive spin on things and maintaining my optimism, but tonight I just feel frustrated. And sad. And unsure. And stuck. And lonely in the midst of it all.
I realize, of course, that it is within my power to get unstuck. I'm just having some trouble figuring out how to do that, or what "unstuck" would even look like for me.
On the house front, we haven't found much in the way of real possibilities. Of course, it's still early in the game, but it's definitely been a bit frustrating to have all the momentum of finding a Realtor and getting together our financing and making the decision to make the leap and then just . . . waiting. We'll find the right house. I know we will. But until then, it's hard to stop endlessly daydreaming about home decorating and renovations, which is fun to think about but also a little frustrating when you can't actually do it.
On the job/career front, things are a bit more complicated. I have totally reached a state of inertia with my business planning. This is not good, but it is the truth, and I've been trying to figure out what is going on. I know that a big part of it is probably fear of failure--as I get closer to the actual point of launch, the point at which I actually need to take a real risk comes closer and closer, and I am sometimes lousy at risk-taking. I knew the fear of failure hurdle would probably be the biggest one for me to jump.
It's a little more than that, though. To be honest, while a lot of my initial excitement about the prospect of launching has slowly faded away (or been overshadowed by other feelings), so has the encouragement of a lot of family and friends, which I guess I was relying on more than I realized. People have stopped asking me much about my business plans, or at least asking me about it with any enthusiasm. I don't blame them, since I haven't talked much about it, but it has definitely fed my self-doubt. When I went home to Georgia, I sent an e-mail to my family and friends asking if they (or anyone they knew) had any organizing projects I could help them with for free to help build my portfolio. I got only one response, and zero takers. Perhaps people didn't need any help, or perhaps no one reads e-mail anymore, but it's hard to believe in what I'm doing if my family and friends aren't even interested in my services when I'm offering them up for free. Sigh. I know their lack of response wasn't necessarily a reflection on how they feel about my business, and I know that as an entrepreneur I can't rely on outside reinforcement all the time, but I was already feeling a little low about things, and that just seemed to push me deeper into the hole of self-doubt that I'm having trouble crawling out of.
So, yes. That is not good. I must get out of my self-doubt funk. This is, naturally, easier said than done.
On top of all that, my time at home made me finally acknowledge something I've known for a long time: I really need to find a new job. When I was answering the usual "How's your job going?" question while talking to family and friends, I could barely even answer it because I hate talking about my job that much. Two people told me, "You sound like you need to get out of there," and they are right. I've known that I needed to get out for a long time (pretty much since I started), but I've been trying to figure out this balance between my long-term and short-term needs. Long-term, I know that doing something like my business would make me happiest, but it's not something that will happen overnight. While I want to really make a career shift and not just a job change, I'm working at a job that in a lot of ways sucks the life out of me and chips away at my feelings of self-efficacy, which is counterproductive for a business launch. I'm definitely finding that trying to get my business going while working a job that gnaws away at pieces of me is not really working out so well.
I've been thinking for the last few weeks about looking for another job. I definitely need a change, and even though it's not the long-term change I'm hoping for, perhaps it will still be for the best. Unfortunately, though, it's probably going to mean a delay of my long-term plans: a job search consumes so much time and energy, and I will probably need some time to adjust to the changes of a new job before I'm ready to refocus my energy on the business again. There is, also, the possible implications on what a new job would mean for our home financing, as I'm not sure a loan officer would look favorably on a switch, so I could put our home buying in jeopardy. And to be honest, none of the jobs I've seen out there really excite me. The upside of knowing what I want to do long-term is that I know what I'd like to do. The downside is that anything that's not that doesn't feel worth doing. So I'm faced with wondering whether I find anything I can have at least some enthusiasm for, put in the energy to go for it, and then adjust to it all while not losing sight of my long-term goals, which will inevitably be put on hold.
And, so, this is where I'm at. And to be honest, it kind of sucks. I'm usually pretty good at putting a positive spin on things and maintaining my optimism, but tonight I just feel frustrated. And sad. And unsure. And stuck. And lonely in the midst of it all.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Life Would Be Perfect If I Lived in That House
Being pretty single-mindedly obsessed with all things real estate these days, I requested a copy of Meghan Daum's memoir Life Would Be Perfect If I Lived in That House from the library when I set out to read my next book. The book recounts the author's decades-long search for the "perfect" place to live and her relentless pursuit of prime real estate. I thought the book would, if nothing else, give me some insight into the home-buying process. Naturally, though, the book (and my reaction to it) is more than just about real estate.
To sum it up, the book is about "what happens when, for whatever reason, your identity becomes almost totally wrapped up not in who you are or how you live but in where you live." In her search for the perfect address and a home complete with wainscoting and perfectly lined bookshelves and tasteful art and well-tended houseplants, she says, "I thought I was only as good as my color scheme, my drawer pulls, my floors" and that "only a house could make you whole."
While I can't say that I've ever equated a house with wholeness, I definitely recognized some of myself in this sentiment. I can't remember a time when I didn't feel that the space that I lived in needed to be an accurate reflection of myself (or who I perceived myself to be). In high school, I was frustrated beyond measure that I wasn't allowed to paint the walls in my bedroom and was limited to hanging only a few pictures. In college, I covered nearly every square inch of my dorm room space with posters and pictures and inspirational quotes in an effort to express myself. In apartment after apartment, I've felt frustrated with my inability (or unwillingness) to paint or change counter tops or install new light fixtures in order to make a place my own. I've been dreaming of the day when I could buy the "perfect" house and make it just like I want it.
Of course, there's definitely something to be said for wanting where you live to be a reflection of who you are. How we design and use our spaces allows us endless opportunities to express ourselves and our creativity, and we can't help but want to live in a neighborhood that feels like "us." But this book reminded me that there is a fine line between allowing your house to reflect who you are and allowing your house to define who you are. There have definitely been moments in my search for places to live over the years where I've perhaps tiptoed over that line, and nothing seems to have brought this out more than my search for a place to buy.
I have often daydreamed of being settled into an airy, bright, urban-but-not-too-modern home with gleaming hardwood floors, lots of windows, perfect paint colors and expertly placed IKEA light fixtures and accessories. Naturally, it will be an older home with lots of charming features like arched doorways and crown molding and original woodwork. Naturally, there will also be a roaring fireplace, a cozy (but not too manicured) garden, endless shelves of books (see how smart and cultured I am?) and a reading nook. Organic herbs will grow in pots on the kitchen windowsill. I will host fabulous backyard dinner parties that last well into the night under strings of outdoor lights with colorful paper globes. Dan and I will have the luxury of walking everywhere. Though I have two cats, amazingly no one will ever see a litter box in my house.
You can see that I have a bit of a problem. This is, of course, all fantasizing, and in most moments I recognize that it is not grounded in reality. But I do have moments where I realize that I've gotten a bit too wrapped up in the idea that life would in fact be perfect (or at least be better) if I just found the right house.
To start, of course, there is no perfect house. If there is a perfect place, I probably cannot afford it. And even if there were such a perfect (and perfectly affordable) place, and even if I felt that it perfectly reflected me, who I am and what I want is invariably going to change. And then there is, of course, the fact that a house is not a home. It is a thing. It is made of stuff. The things that truly make a home a home have nothing to do with original hardwood floors or crown molding or a perfectly sized yard.
Anyone who has bought a house will probably tell you that you start out with your "dream" house in mind and adjust your expectations as the reality of what is available and what you can afford starts to really sink in. Dan and I could both tell you that we are no exception to this rule. In some ways, I think perhaps this has been harder for me than it probably is for most people. I'm continually working to remind myself of the following:
To sum it up, the book is about "what happens when, for whatever reason, your identity becomes almost totally wrapped up not in who you are or how you live but in where you live." In her search for the perfect address and a home complete with wainscoting and perfectly lined bookshelves and tasteful art and well-tended houseplants, she says, "I thought I was only as good as my color scheme, my drawer pulls, my floors" and that "only a house could make you whole."
While I can't say that I've ever equated a house with wholeness, I definitely recognized some of myself in this sentiment. I can't remember a time when I didn't feel that the space that I lived in needed to be an accurate reflection of myself (or who I perceived myself to be). In high school, I was frustrated beyond measure that I wasn't allowed to paint the walls in my bedroom and was limited to hanging only a few pictures. In college, I covered nearly every square inch of my dorm room space with posters and pictures and inspirational quotes in an effort to express myself. In apartment after apartment, I've felt frustrated with my inability (or unwillingness) to paint or change counter tops or install new light fixtures in order to make a place my own. I've been dreaming of the day when I could buy the "perfect" house and make it just like I want it.
Of course, there's definitely something to be said for wanting where you live to be a reflection of who you are. How we design and use our spaces allows us endless opportunities to express ourselves and our creativity, and we can't help but want to live in a neighborhood that feels like "us." But this book reminded me that there is a fine line between allowing your house to reflect who you are and allowing your house to define who you are. There have definitely been moments in my search for places to live over the years where I've perhaps tiptoed over that line, and nothing seems to have brought this out more than my search for a place to buy.
I have often daydreamed of being settled into an airy, bright, urban-but-not-too-modern home with gleaming hardwood floors, lots of windows, perfect paint colors and expertly placed IKEA light fixtures and accessories. Naturally, it will be an older home with lots of charming features like arched doorways and crown molding and original woodwork. Naturally, there will also be a roaring fireplace, a cozy (but not too manicured) garden, endless shelves of books (see how smart and cultured I am?) and a reading nook. Organic herbs will grow in pots on the kitchen windowsill. I will host fabulous backyard dinner parties that last well into the night under strings of outdoor lights with colorful paper globes. Dan and I will have the luxury of walking everywhere. Though I have two cats, amazingly no one will ever see a litter box in my house.
You can see that I have a bit of a problem. This is, of course, all fantasizing, and in most moments I recognize that it is not grounded in reality. But I do have moments where I realize that I've gotten a bit too wrapped up in the idea that life would in fact be perfect (or at least be better) if I just found the right house.
To start, of course, there is no perfect house. If there is a perfect place, I probably cannot afford it. And even if there were such a perfect (and perfectly affordable) place, and even if I felt that it perfectly reflected me, who I am and what I want is invariably going to change. And then there is, of course, the fact that a house is not a home. It is a thing. It is made of stuff. The things that truly make a home a home have nothing to do with original hardwood floors or crown molding or a perfectly sized yard.
Anyone who has bought a house will probably tell you that you start out with your "dream" house in mind and adjust your expectations as the reality of what is available and what you can afford starts to really sink in. Dan and I could both tell you that we are no exception to this rule. In some ways, I think perhaps this has been harder for me than it probably is for most people. I'm continually working to remind myself of the following:
a) Just because I am still a renter does not mean I have somehow failed at being a grown-upThe good news? Dan and I put in an offer on a house yesterday. A perfectly cute Cape Cod on a ridiculously cute street. A place with hardwood floors and a new kitchen with granite counter tops and arched doorways and charming alcoves. The sellers responded with a counteroffer today--one that indicates that they are unwilling to budge in their efforts to sell the house for more than what it's worth. And so, without a moment's hesitation or regret, we walked away. Nearly perfect as that house might have been, we knew that it is not our house. Our less than perfect house is still out there waiting for us somewhere. And when we find it, we will embrace it, faults and all.
b) My house is a place to live, not a place to impress
c) My friends and family will be happy to come see me even if we are in a slightly cramped living room or the carpet is ugly or I don't have a fabulous back deck
d) I don't have to wait to be a homeowner before I embark on doing all the things you aren't "supposed" to do until after you are "settled" (e.g., I should ignore the people who say ridiculous things like, "I guess you guys probably aren't planning on having kids soon since you haven't bought a house yet.")
e) Once I do find a house and make it my own, I will not suddenly feel perfectly at home in the world, settled into my perfect life in the perfect place and ready for the rest of my life to begin
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
New Things: Weeks 12-14
In my mind, the last few weeks are blurred together in a fog of long work hours and busy weekends, so my new things for the last three weeks are going to have to appear in one post this time around.
First new thing: hitting the 3-mile mark on the treadmill! It's been a long while since I've run three miles, and I wasn't even planning to try for that when I started running one Saturday morning, but I was feeling good, I kept pushing through, and then I realized I'd done it, almost by accident. Perhaps it is time to consider another 5K, though it's been almost three years since my last one!
The second new thing was getting started on the website for my business. This might not sound like a big deal, but I often get paralyzed when it comes to all things technical, so I put this off for a long time because I didn't want to deal with figuring out how to go about choosing a host, finding the right template, etc. It's still a work in progress, but the most important thing was getting started, so that is one huge hurdle jumped.
The last new thing. . . and definitely the biggest. . . is that Dan and I have begun our search for a home in earnest. We toyed with the idea last summer, but we weren't sure that we were ready financially, and there wasn't a whole lot on the market in our price range to really peak our interest. We've seen a few things emerging on the market so far this year that have really gotten us thinking it's time to make a move, so we've engaged a Realtor and are officially starting our hunt. We've popped into several open houses and had our first scheduled showing over the weekend. We anticipate it will take some time to find the right place, as things don't come on the market in our area all that often, but luckily we are in a position to be patient. I am just thrilled to my fingertips at the thought of being a homeowner. I'll keep you posted as things move forward, but in the meantime, just imagine me daydreaming about paint colors, a real kitchen, storage space for home-canned veggies and home-brewed beer, a garden, and a compost pile.
First new thing: hitting the 3-mile mark on the treadmill! It's been a long while since I've run three miles, and I wasn't even planning to try for that when I started running one Saturday morning, but I was feeling good, I kept pushing through, and then I realized I'd done it, almost by accident. Perhaps it is time to consider another 5K, though it's been almost three years since my last one!
The second new thing was getting started on the website for my business. This might not sound like a big deal, but I often get paralyzed when it comes to all things technical, so I put this off for a long time because I didn't want to deal with figuring out how to go about choosing a host, finding the right template, etc. It's still a work in progress, but the most important thing was getting started, so that is one huge hurdle jumped.
The last new thing. . . and definitely the biggest. . . is that Dan and I have begun our search for a home in earnest. We toyed with the idea last summer, but we weren't sure that we were ready financially, and there wasn't a whole lot on the market in our price range to really peak our interest. We've seen a few things emerging on the market so far this year that have really gotten us thinking it's time to make a move, so we've engaged a Realtor and are officially starting our hunt. We've popped into several open houses and had our first scheduled showing over the weekend. We anticipate it will take some time to find the right place, as things don't come on the market in our area all that often, but luckily we are in a position to be patient. I am just thrilled to my fingertips at the thought of being a homeowner. I'll keep you posted as things move forward, but in the meantime, just imagine me daydreaming about paint colors, a real kitchen, storage space for home-canned veggies and home-brewed beer, a garden, and a compost pile.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Little Bursts of Happiness
I knew it had been a little while since I'd been on the blog, but I was honestly a bit shocked when I finally opened it up this afternoon and realized it had been almost three weeks since my last post. Not sure how that happened.
Lately the best description of my life and state of mind can probably be described in one word: tired. We are at the peak of tax preparation time at my job, which I find to be rewarding (and even fun) work but which takes 15-20 hours per week of my time, without any unloading of my typical full-time responsibilities. I've been coming home late a lot and skipping lunch. And, believe me, you do not want to be around me when I have skipped lunch. Jenn + hungry = bitchy monster.
On the upside, there have been good things keeping me busy, and many little bursts of happiness. Plane tickets have been purchased for our trip to Arizona in May, and I am so stoked to be taking a trip and seeing the Grand Canyon that I am already daydreaming about packing my suitcase. I decided to make a (rather impromptu) trip to Georgia in March, so a ticket has been purchased for that also. I'm a little ashamed to say that I haven't been to Georgia since Thanksgiving 2009; I'm excited to see my family and friends and have to admit that I might even be equally excited about fries, feta dip, and a veggie BLT at The Grill.
Also in new happy news. . . regular girls' nights appear to be in my future! I am SO excited about this. The last time I really had a local group of girlfriends was in 2006 before they all completed our graduate program and left St. Louis. After that, Dan and I were sort of in friend limbo while waiting to make our next move across the country. For our first couple of years here, we've spent a lot of time with couples, but I've been pining for some real girl time, especially since Dan's two best friends are here and they have regular guy outings. Much to my delight, a group of girls from my church gets together regularly for craft nights and I've been invited to join them. I had my first craft night a couple of weeks ago, and I could hardly have been more excited if it were a first date. In fact, I've been so excited about making new friends that I've been worried about coming across as being in a state of friend desperation, so hopefully I've managed to convince them that I'm (relatively) normal. I'm so happy to have girl time, especially time that inspires me to be creative--a perfect combo! I'm really looking forward to more of that and really excited to be surrounded by inspiring and amazing women!
Business stuff is humming along, though I've been too exhausted with my day job lately to put much effort into it. I feel like, at this point, I have really crystallized my concept, and I've finally settled on a name, almost finished my logo, and even purchased a domain for my website! The actual website is still a hot mess, but I'll be sure to share the link with anyone who's interested as soon as I have a chance to get it into a state that doesn't cause me extreme embarrassment. Once the site is up, the logo is finished, and the business cards are ordered, it will be time to actually start getting my services out there! As a bit of an impromptu trial in being a professional organizer, this weekend a friend e-mailed me with some pictures and a request for suggestions to help her friend get organized. I realized as I was responding to her just how excited I am about this work, and how much I've really absorbed in researching it over the last several months. I feel that I was able to really answer her questions with confidence, which for me is about 90% of the battle in my efforts to get this going. Very exciting.
Lately the best description of my life and state of mind can probably be described in one word: tired. We are at the peak of tax preparation time at my job, which I find to be rewarding (and even fun) work but which takes 15-20 hours per week of my time, without any unloading of my typical full-time responsibilities. I've been coming home late a lot and skipping lunch. And, believe me, you do not want to be around me when I have skipped lunch. Jenn + hungry = bitchy monster.
On the upside, there have been good things keeping me busy, and many little bursts of happiness. Plane tickets have been purchased for our trip to Arizona in May, and I am so stoked to be taking a trip and seeing the Grand Canyon that I am already daydreaming about packing my suitcase. I decided to make a (rather impromptu) trip to Georgia in March, so a ticket has been purchased for that also. I'm a little ashamed to say that I haven't been to Georgia since Thanksgiving 2009; I'm excited to see my family and friends and have to admit that I might even be equally excited about fries, feta dip, and a veggie BLT at The Grill.
Also in new happy news. . . regular girls' nights appear to be in my future! I am SO excited about this. The last time I really had a local group of girlfriends was in 2006 before they all completed our graduate program and left St. Louis. After that, Dan and I were sort of in friend limbo while waiting to make our next move across the country. For our first couple of years here, we've spent a lot of time with couples, but I've been pining for some real girl time, especially since Dan's two best friends are here and they have regular guy outings. Much to my delight, a group of girls from my church gets together regularly for craft nights and I've been invited to join them. I had my first craft night a couple of weeks ago, and I could hardly have been more excited if it were a first date. In fact, I've been so excited about making new friends that I've been worried about coming across as being in a state of friend desperation, so hopefully I've managed to convince them that I'm (relatively) normal. I'm so happy to have girl time, especially time that inspires me to be creative--a perfect combo! I'm really looking forward to more of that and really excited to be surrounded by inspiring and amazing women!
Business stuff is humming along, though I've been too exhausted with my day job lately to put much effort into it. I feel like, at this point, I have really crystallized my concept, and I've finally settled on a name, almost finished my logo, and even purchased a domain for my website! The actual website is still a hot mess, but I'll be sure to share the link with anyone who's interested as soon as I have a chance to get it into a state that doesn't cause me extreme embarrassment. Once the site is up, the logo is finished, and the business cards are ordered, it will be time to actually start getting my services out there! As a bit of an impromptu trial in being a professional organizer, this weekend a friend e-mailed me with some pictures and a request for suggestions to help her friend get organized. I realized as I was responding to her just how excited I am about this work, and how much I've really absorbed in researching it over the last several months. I feel that I was able to really answer her questions with confidence, which for me is about 90% of the battle in my efforts to get this going. Very exciting.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
New Things: Week 11
The first new thing this week was the purchase of soap nuts. I've been meaning to try these as an alternative to regular laundry detergent, and these get extra points for being fair trade! I'm hoping they might also save us a bit of money.
New thing #2 was finally getting around to switching out almost all of my plastic storage containers and replacing them with glass ones. I've long avoided putting plastic in the microwave or exposing it to heat, and I've had some glass containers that I've used for a while, but I hadn't really gotten around to switching everything over to ensure that all of my food storage is BPA-free (some of my plastic storage was years old, cheap, and probably not of the BPA-free variety). Of course, reducing BPA exposure is a good thing for anyone to consider, but what finally got me into gear was an article I read recently about the connections between Polycystic Ovary Syndrome and BPA. . . apparently women with PCOS (like me) have over 1.5 times more BPA in their systems than women without it! The last thing my systems needs is any PCOS encouragement, so that definitely pushed buying glass higher up on my priority list. I'm also going to stop buying canned beans and make the switch to 100% dried ones (or, if I'm in a pitch, stick only with Eden canned beans, which are BPA free). It felt really good to say goodbye to all of that plastic (which I'm hoping to either recycle or repurpose as containers for organizing)!
The last new (old) thing for the week was that Dan and I resumed one of our favorite dates. . . an evening at home with a puzzle, a hot beverage, and a treat for dessert. I realize this makes us among the dorkiest people we know, but for us it turns into a quiet, inexpensive night at home and something fun to work on together. We haven't worked on a puzzle since we relocated to PA, so it was fun to reinstate an old tradition! We sipped coffee, ate cannolis, listed to some Jose Gonzales and Emiliana Torrini, and put together this puzzle Dan got me for Christmas in 2009. It was lovely.
New thing #2 was finally getting around to switching out almost all of my plastic storage containers and replacing them with glass ones. I've long avoided putting plastic in the microwave or exposing it to heat, and I've had some glass containers that I've used for a while, but I hadn't really gotten around to switching everything over to ensure that all of my food storage is BPA-free (some of my plastic storage was years old, cheap, and probably not of the BPA-free variety). Of course, reducing BPA exposure is a good thing for anyone to consider, but what finally got me into gear was an article I read recently about the connections between Polycystic Ovary Syndrome and BPA. . . apparently women with PCOS (like me) have over 1.5 times more BPA in their systems than women without it! The last thing my systems needs is any PCOS encouragement, so that definitely pushed buying glass higher up on my priority list. I'm also going to stop buying canned beans and make the switch to 100% dried ones (or, if I'm in a pitch, stick only with Eden canned beans, which are BPA free). It felt really good to say goodbye to all of that plastic (which I'm hoping to either recycle or repurpose as containers for organizing)!The last new (old) thing for the week was that Dan and I resumed one of our favorite dates. . . an evening at home with a puzzle, a hot beverage, and a treat for dessert. I realize this makes us among the dorkiest people we know, but for us it turns into a quiet, inexpensive night at home and something fun to work on together. We haven't worked on a puzzle since we relocated to PA, so it was fun to reinstate an old tradition! We sipped coffee, ate cannolis, listed to some Jose Gonzales and Emiliana Torrini, and put together this puzzle Dan got me for Christmas in 2009. It was lovely.
Friday, January 28, 2011
New Things: Week 10
Most of my new things for this week are small, and most of them took place in the kitchen. For starters, I made another loaf of homemade bread this weekend (to accompany minestrone soup. . . yum). This is a good thing not only because the bread was delicious, but also because it means I've repeated one of my new things, hopefully slowly making it a new habit. It was also quite fun because I finally got to use the bread bag that Dan bought me on Etsy for Christmas!
Along the lines of making my own bread, this week I also finally (after intending to do so for years) made my own salad dressing. Again, I don't know why it took me so long to get around to this. . . you take a few ingredients and stir them up in a jar. . . but for some reason I just kept picking up bottles at the store. This now seems crazy because what we made at home was so much tastier, healthier, and cheaper! I can't say I'll never pick up a bottle of Garlic Expressions again (man, is that dressing good!) but I see few (if any) salad dressing bottles in my fridge's future.
I've also been hoping to create more healthy, homemade snacks. I love granola bars and Larabars, but the former always have some sort of sugar or dairy or other additive I don't want, and the latter are healthy and taste yummy but I sometimes feel bad about the waste from the package wrappers. Last week, I made my own version of Larabars using this recipe from Vegetarian Times with dates, chia seeds, almonds, and cocoa. I've read a lot about the health benefits of chia seeds and have been wanting to incorporate more into my diet, and these bars had the advantage of being somewhat like brownies in their richness (but without any sugar, dairy, or eggs). They were super easy and so good!
My last new thing for the week actually happened at work. Among other things, my department provides free income tax preparation to low and moderate-income individuals through the Volunteer Income Tax Assistance program. I've always been really nervous about doing this because the thought of me helping someone with their taxes seemed almost laughable. But after passing the VITA test and becoming certified by the IRS to prepare taxes at both the beginner and intermediate levels, I prepared my first tax return on Friday! The preparation was for a nice couple with a new (2 week old and adorable!) baby, and their refund was over $1000, which I know will make a big difference to them, especially given their income level and growing family. It was nice to be a part of that, and also to gain the confidence boost that comes from doing something as complex as filing taxes! It was a good reminder to me that moving outside of our comfort zones is good, and also that we are capable of much more than we often believe ourselves to be.
Along the lines of making my own bread, this week I also finally (after intending to do so for years) made my own salad dressing. Again, I don't know why it took me so long to get around to this. . . you take a few ingredients and stir them up in a jar. . . but for some reason I just kept picking up bottles at the store. This now seems crazy because what we made at home was so much tastier, healthier, and cheaper! I can't say I'll never pick up a bottle of Garlic Expressions again (man, is that dressing good!) but I see few (if any) salad dressing bottles in my fridge's future.
I've also been hoping to create more healthy, homemade snacks. I love granola bars and Larabars, but the former always have some sort of sugar or dairy or other additive I don't want, and the latter are healthy and taste yummy but I sometimes feel bad about the waste from the package wrappers. Last week, I made my own version of Larabars using this recipe from Vegetarian Times with dates, chia seeds, almonds, and cocoa. I've read a lot about the health benefits of chia seeds and have been wanting to incorporate more into my diet, and these bars had the advantage of being somewhat like brownies in their richness (but without any sugar, dairy, or eggs). They were super easy and so good!
My last new thing for the week actually happened at work. Among other things, my department provides free income tax preparation to low and moderate-income individuals through the Volunteer Income Tax Assistance program. I've always been really nervous about doing this because the thought of me helping someone with their taxes seemed almost laughable. But after passing the VITA test and becoming certified by the IRS to prepare taxes at both the beginner and intermediate levels, I prepared my first tax return on Friday! The preparation was for a nice couple with a new (2 week old and adorable!) baby, and their refund was over $1000, which I know will make a big difference to them, especially given their income level and growing family. It was nice to be a part of that, and also to gain the confidence boost that comes from doing something as complex as filing taxes! It was a good reminder to me that moving outside of our comfort zones is good, and also that we are capable of much more than we often believe ourselves to be.
Monday, January 24, 2011
New Things: Weeks 8 & 9
The past couple of weeks have been busy ones. We headed out of town to see friends over the weekend, and the week prior to that, Seester and Brother (her husband) were here for a visit, complete with a trip to see the always amazing "Les Miserables!" It was such a lovely visit. If only we could live closer. . . sigh.
In continuing the tradition of new things (or old things that I stopped doing and would like to do again), I continued my efforts to get crafty by picking up knitting for the first time in years. I never moved beyond scarves when I initially started knitting--and I'm working on a scarf now--but I figure I'll wait to get through that before I tackle something more complicated. I forgot how nice (and even meditative) it can be to complete those rhythmic motions.
The other new old thing for the last couple of weeks--and definitely the most time-consuming--has been reading a classic novel. A year or so ago, I bought a copy of Anna Karenina. Being that it is an 850+ page 19th-century Russian novel, it was hard to really get around to reading it. I have long since given up on reading books just because they are classics (life is too short to read something that you don't like or that bores you), but I do enjoy a good juicy classic now and then, and it seemed that Anna Karenina might fit the bill. The challenge was finding the time to read it without spending six months with it--luckily, the Christmas break gave me a good opportunity to get started, and I finished reading it last week.
I hoped that I would like Anna Karenina. I didn't expect to love it. Despite its length, I tore through it. I loved the humanness of the characters, the depiction of Russian life and society, the novel's philosophical bent, and the subtlety with which the characters change throughout the novel and lead up to the book's conclusion (one that literally left me with my jaw hanging open). It had a surprisingly contemporary feel to it, and it's been a long time since I've been that engrossed in a book. I'd actually love to reread it, but perhaps I'll save that for another time. For now, I'm definitely ready for some lighter fare--perhaps a rereading of the Twilight series?
I decided to start a new list (on the right) called "Bookshelf," just to share what I'm reading and to record what I've read this year. I won't be including any business or organizing books--which take up a lot of my reading time--but I'm hoping to put a nice dent in the never-ending list of books I'd like to get to. I'd love to know what any of you are reading, as well!
In continuing the tradition of new things (or old things that I stopped doing and would like to do again), I continued my efforts to get crafty by picking up knitting for the first time in years. I never moved beyond scarves when I initially started knitting--and I'm working on a scarf now--but I figure I'll wait to get through that before I tackle something more complicated. I forgot how nice (and even meditative) it can be to complete those rhythmic motions.
The other new old thing for the last couple of weeks--and definitely the most time-consuming--has been reading a classic novel. A year or so ago, I bought a copy of Anna Karenina. Being that it is an 850+ page 19th-century Russian novel, it was hard to really get around to reading it. I have long since given up on reading books just because they are classics (life is too short to read something that you don't like or that bores you), but I do enjoy a good juicy classic now and then, and it seemed that Anna Karenina might fit the bill. The challenge was finding the time to read it without spending six months with it--luckily, the Christmas break gave me a good opportunity to get started, and I finished reading it last week.
I hoped that I would like Anna Karenina. I didn't expect to love it. Despite its length, I tore through it. I loved the humanness of the characters, the depiction of Russian life and society, the novel's philosophical bent, and the subtlety with which the characters change throughout the novel and lead up to the book's conclusion (one that literally left me with my jaw hanging open). It had a surprisingly contemporary feel to it, and it's been a long time since I've been that engrossed in a book. I'd actually love to reread it, but perhaps I'll save that for another time. For now, I'm definitely ready for some lighter fare--perhaps a rereading of the Twilight series?
I decided to start a new list (on the right) called "Bookshelf," just to share what I'm reading and to record what I've read this year. I won't be including any business or organizing books--which take up a lot of my reading time--but I'm hoping to put a nice dent in the never-ending list of books I'd like to get to. I'd love to know what any of you are reading, as well!
Friday, January 21, 2011
Slow and Steady
For the past couple of weeks, I've really struggled to get back into the swing of things. Over my holiday vacation, I took a break from business planning, from the gym, from healthy eating, from a regular bedtime, from avoiding too much caffeine. . . and now I'm trying to navigate the transition back into old habits like getting to the gym in the mornings, planning weekly meals, and devoting chunks of time (and brain energy) to my business plans. I find it ironic that, as most people are using the new year to kick-off new habits, I'm trying to get back to the old ones I'd cultivated up until Christmas. My eleven days off of work apparently became eleven days off from everything! The transition has been a little rough, to say the least. Once I get going on something, I'm pretty committed to it. . . but if my plans veer off course or I lose motivation, it always takes me a while to get back on track. This is apparently one old (bad) habit that I need to leave behind.
Having said that, taking a break was good. After entering every single food item I eat into an online program every day since May, getting up at 5:30 in the morning to make it to the gym, and giving up my weekends entirely to business planning, it was great to enjoy holiday treats without worrying about my waistline, to lounge in bed in the mornings, and to give my mind a rest from constant business brainstorming. I always think it's good to step back for a while from anything you're investing a lot of creative time or energy into, so I'm hoping that the break will help me revisit my business plans with fresh eyes. While taking a rest form my usual activities, I caught up on long-neglected projects around the house, started some new ones, and spent a lot of R&R with the hubs.
I am definitely a person who thrives on routine--perhaps too much so. Having a regular schedule helps me stay on track and jibes well with my goal-orientated nature, but transitions can really throw me off course. Sometimes even the transition from the weekdays to the weekend (or vice versa) can be a little rocky for me. I try to force myself to break up the routine sometimes, but it's not easy--and I worry that sometimes my need for routine is going to interfere with things like running a business or, eventually, being a parent. I'm not exactly the most adaptable person, thought it's something I try to work on (hence the spirit behind my plan of new things). I guess, though, that most of us have a tendency for the familiar.
On the upside, I tend to be pretty tenacious. And my goal-oriented self doesn't like to be off track for too long. Rather than beat myself up over the last year or so for not getting my business off the ground when I hoped, or not losing weight as quickly as I thought I should, or still working to gain traction in my exercise habits, my new motto has been "slow but steady." There's something to be said for taking a flying leap, but that's just not me. And perhaps knowing yourself is the biggest key to success. So, slowly but surely, here I go!
Having said that, taking a break was good. After entering every single food item I eat into an online program every day since May, getting up at 5:30 in the morning to make it to the gym, and giving up my weekends entirely to business planning, it was great to enjoy holiday treats without worrying about my waistline, to lounge in bed in the mornings, and to give my mind a rest from constant business brainstorming. I always think it's good to step back for a while from anything you're investing a lot of creative time or energy into, so I'm hoping that the break will help me revisit my business plans with fresh eyes. While taking a rest form my usual activities, I caught up on long-neglected projects around the house, started some new ones, and spent a lot of R&R with the hubs.
I am definitely a person who thrives on routine--perhaps too much so. Having a regular schedule helps me stay on track and jibes well with my goal-orientated nature, but transitions can really throw me off course. Sometimes even the transition from the weekdays to the weekend (or vice versa) can be a little rocky for me. I try to force myself to break up the routine sometimes, but it's not easy--and I worry that sometimes my need for routine is going to interfere with things like running a business or, eventually, being a parent. I'm not exactly the most adaptable person, thought it's something I try to work on (hence the spirit behind my plan of new things). I guess, though, that most of us have a tendency for the familiar.
On the upside, I tend to be pretty tenacious. And my goal-oriented self doesn't like to be off track for too long. Rather than beat myself up over the last year or so for not getting my business off the ground when I hoped, or not losing weight as quickly as I thought I should, or still working to gain traction in my exercise habits, my new motto has been "slow but steady." There's something to be said for taking a flying leap, but that's just not me. And perhaps knowing yourself is the biggest key to success. So, slowly but surely, here I go!
Sunday, January 9, 2011
New Things: Week 7
I am pretty consistent about taking canvas shopping bags into stores--so much so that I sometimes have to purposefully leave them in the car because we are out of plastic bags for kitty litter. On my list of things to do has been to buy reusable produce bags. I try to avoid the clear plastic ones altogether and just throw loose items into my cart, but for some items, like greens, they seem necessary. I have had these reusable ones on my wish list for a while but hadn't gotten around to ordering them, and then I saw the ones below newly stocked in my local natural foods store! I love that they come with a cute little apple pouch that they can all be stored in. One more small step toward a greener life.
The next new thing for this week? Making oatmeal instead of buying it in smaller packets. As convenient as the latter are for mornings at work, they create so much waste, and I've known that making oatmeal at home would be healthier. I bought this bulk bag of oats several months ago--and instead of just making some freaking oatmeal with it, I kept buying packets and left the bag of oats sitting in my pantry (I think my new things are probably just succeeding in showing you all how lazy I can be).
Saturday morning, I cooked up some oatmeal with a cut-up apple and some lemon juice, topped it with maple syrup and toasted pecans, and had a healthy, hearty breakfast. I made extra to put in the fridge to take and reheat at work. Yum yum.
The last new thing of the week. . . salsa dancing! Some friends invited Dan and I to join them for salsa lessons after they put together an event and auctioned off spots for our church fundraiser. I never thought Dan would go, but he almost immediately took a "why not?" attitude. Yes, that's right, friends. . . DAN danced both the salsa and the merengue on Friday night! He did quite well, and it was a fun new thing for us to do together. Just the fact that he did it makes me love him even more (I swear he is just the cutest). On a side note, I have also now danced both the salsa and the merengue with my minister . . . now that definitely falls under the category of "something new!"
The next new thing for this week? Making oatmeal instead of buying it in smaller packets. As convenient as the latter are for mornings at work, they create so much waste, and I've known that making oatmeal at home would be healthier. I bought this bulk bag of oats several months ago--and instead of just making some freaking oatmeal with it, I kept buying packets and left the bag of oats sitting in my pantry (I think my new things are probably just succeeding in showing you all how lazy I can be).Saturday morning, I cooked up some oatmeal with a cut-up apple and some lemon juice, topped it with maple syrup and toasted pecans, and had a healthy, hearty breakfast. I made extra to put in the fridge to take and reheat at work. Yum yum.The last new thing of the week. . . salsa dancing! Some friends invited Dan and I to join them for salsa lessons after they put together an event and auctioned off spots for our church fundraiser. I never thought Dan would go, but he almost immediately took a "why not?" attitude. Yes, that's right, friends. . . DAN danced both the salsa and the merengue on Friday night! He did quite well, and it was a fun new thing for us to do together. Just the fact that he did it makes me love him even more (I swear he is just the cutest). On a side note, I have also now danced both the salsa and the merengue with my minister . . . now that definitely falls under the category of "something new!"
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
If You Have Cats, This is a Must Read!
In addition to finally pulling out the sewing machine, the other thing I finally did last week was get around to researching new options for my cats' food. This does not sound monumental, but I have discovered that determining what is healthy for a cat to eat is almost as confusing as determining the best diet for people. I am very fortunate to have a veterinary technician (my sis) on my side to help direct me to resources. She sent me to this website a while ago, and for some time I have been in denial about the fact that there is a good chance the food I was feeding my cats was the equivalent of giving them McDonald's every day (and I was giving them supposedly "good" stuff).
To all my friends with cats, take note: I've become convinced that cats should not be eating dry food and I'm switching mine to a high-quality, high-protein, low-carb wet food. I've decided to make the switch even though it's more expensive, and even though every time I smell wet food or see it or it accidentally touches me anywhere on my fingers I kind of want to vomit. My cats will still get dry food once a day because Dan and I don't sleep if we don't use the automatic cat feeder for their morning feedings (and dry is the only option there), but the other two feedings will be wet food only, and I'm going to switch their dry food to a high-protein, low-carb variety while adding a little extra water to their wet food to ensure they stay properly hydrated.
If you have kitties that you love (and I know many of you do), please, please take some time to read through the info here on this website. It's a lot to wade through, but it can't be surprising to anyone that pet food companies are out to make a profit and are not always looking out for the best interests of our furry friends, so we have to be educated. To me, the information presented here makes sense, and switching my cats' food seems to me to be the best thing I can to do to help them lead healthy lives.
My little girls
If you are interested in knowing which foods I've decided to switch to after doing hours of research, feel free to leave me a comment or drop me an e-mail!
To all my friends with cats, take note: I've become convinced that cats should not be eating dry food and I'm switching mine to a high-quality, high-protein, low-carb wet food. I've decided to make the switch even though it's more expensive, and even though every time I smell wet food or see it or it accidentally touches me anywhere on my fingers I kind of want to vomit. My cats will still get dry food once a day because Dan and I don't sleep if we don't use the automatic cat feeder for their morning feedings (and dry is the only option there), but the other two feedings will be wet food only, and I'm going to switch their dry food to a high-protein, low-carb variety while adding a little extra water to their wet food to ensure they stay properly hydrated.
If you have kitties that you love (and I know many of you do), please, please take some time to read through the info here on this website. It's a lot to wade through, but it can't be surprising to anyone that pet food companies are out to make a profit and are not always looking out for the best interests of our furry friends, so we have to be educated. To me, the information presented here makes sense, and switching my cats' food seems to me to be the best thing I can to do to help them lead healthy lives.
My little girlsIf you are interested in knowing which foods I've decided to switch to after doing hours of research, feel free to leave me a comment or drop me an e-mail!
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