More Being Busy

Due to an unforeseen dump of work to do, I have little in the way of updates and photographic inspiration. The little morning peace bubble that I usually use for self-reflection, brooding, practicing my comedy, and prayer time, has been short if not neglected in favor of a frantic fight to stay afloat in today's world. 

The Fella and I are just swamped with deadlines and commitments. We come blasting into our days, cutting corners in areas like nutrition and hygiene, and run all day long and crap out at the end of the day. One or both of us has been falling asleep before 9:00. We've been willingly getting into bed by 9:30. Is this how it starts? Surely we'll bounce back, right?

I started a rigorous (that's sarcastic) weight training expedition a couple weeks ago - I'm working to counteract my thighs that fell down when I woke up on my 33rd birthday, and it's going well and all, but it sure makes me sleepy. I've often chuckled at people that go to the gym to pick up heavy stuff just to put it down again, so sometimes I get real tickled about what I'm doing and the ab workout that the laugh attack causes is the cherry on top of a grueling 10 minute workout. Point being, deciding to exercise with weights for the first time in life, alongside all the other bits and bobs, seems to make for an early bedtime. 

In fact, it all that started because of a pre-annoyance about menopause. I read an article about it and got real mad that I have to do that, so I have start building up my bones now even though they say it's already too late. Just another one of life's little slaps in the face.

Brett has more realistic excuses for his exhaustion but it still seems like we should be able to make it to 9:30. He and I haven't had a real conversation since last week sometime and that's saying something for a couple that's usually deep in a polarizing chat about morality and other important topics like "who wore it better." 

We did take approximately 1 hour last weekend to go get ice cream and read in the park and it was as lovely as it sounds like it would be. 

Also, due to Mom being the leader of her bible study group for the semester, Brett and I have been having Monday night dinners with Dad at assorted locales around town. This makes Mom angry because she want go to to these places too, but Dad always waits for a night when she's unavailable. Wonder why that is?

I do have real things to report on. I'm just waiting for a few little pieces to line up and then I'll tell you all about it. 

Springtime Giddiness

We made it. It's warm out. That felt like an especially long winter - but I reckon it's because winter doesn't foster lots of hopeful dreaming, and a lack of that sort of thing just leaves you wallowing around with  your stuffy nose and dry, scaly skin.

There was that limbo moment when the sun was hot but the outside temperature was still chilly. That was about a two week period, so both dogs, both cats, and I set up shop in the bedroom where the sun comes into the window and heats up the floor to a most excellent temperature. All the pets tolerated lazing in such close proximity to each other presumably because we all understood the yearning for a comfortable outside temperature and the universal luxury of sunbathing.

Now that it's warm out, all the people and animals are coming out from our hovels with our disheveled fur and pasty complexions, and the world feels full and busy again. It's fun being in an actual neighborhood because you get to track and monitor the activities of your neighbors. All the Spring, Summer and Fall joggers are definitely not Winter joggers - so months pass without seeing them. It's nice to see that they've survived for another go round. Friends start leaving for long weekend adventures, the flowers bloom, lawn care reignites, traffic builds, restaurants fill up... what a busy little anthill we live in. 

Brett and I are no exception and we've been outside as much as possible; visiting all the parks, public docks, and outdoor cafes with friends.

That reminds me. This is Ned Cricket. He has a broken foot and an ornery disposition. He's my latest rescue mission but he won't let me too close. I'll keep you posted.

I found a bunch of old seed packets in a storage bin while I was cleaning so I somewhat haphazardly sprinkled them into some dirt and now we have more seedlings than we know what to do with. This is photo is about 25% of them. I didn't think they would even sprout. Surely they won't all survive right? That will be too many tomatoes. Either way, the thrill I've been getting watching these grow might be unreasonable. 

A blog post of substance will be coming soon. I've overbooked myself for the month of April and am floundering around juggling things. I hate when I do this to myself. It usually only happens once or twice each year but it comes on so fast you can't stop in. 

In the meantime - Liv and Dad at Easter lunch. 

Another "Almost" Post

It's almost warm out. Which means it's just about time to watch all of the movies I love that give me Spring Fever - I have found that it is devastating to do this prematurely. It's almost time for shorts, and warm sun on your pasty white legs, and floral breezes, and sitting on the porch after dinner. 

I'm almost finished with Grad school. There's just about four weeks left. That doesn't feel real or good to me because I finally found "my people" in my school program and since we all live in different states, not seeing them every week will make my life a little less shiny. I've decided that I would recommend animal advocacy (as an interest, as a career, as a volunteer effort) to any gentle people who haven't found other humans to be very validating. There's a whole big spectrum of personalities in there, but one thing everyone shares is a powerful ability to step into other peoples (and animals) shoes, and feel life through their soles. (Souls?) I am consistently amazed by the compassion, intelligence, and selflessness of my school peers. 

I wish the program could go on forever.

I might have almost gotten a job but I can't tell you about it because of the cosmic sabotage. In any case, it's almost time to decide on my next chapter. 

I've almost built up enough arm strength to do some new acrobatic stunts up against the wall by the front door.

Nora is almost comfy enough to fall asleep next to me in bed. (This is shockingly rewarding.)

Most importantly, the biggest "almost" in the Guy/Ray family has officially moved into "it's here" territory after an agonizing years long countdown. 

Uncle Dave has retired! Happy adventuring to Big Dave!!!

Gigs hosted a gut-bustin' semi-surprise retirement party with lots of familiar happy faces. 

Though this is my favorite photo from the night...

More good things to come.

The Closet Clean Out

Earlier this week I arrived at Mom and Dad's house during a very rare occurrence. Mom had convinced Dad to go through his clothes and deem things worthy of keeping, tossing, or donating. For a person so inattentive to fashion trends, Dad sure has tons of clothes. The sheer volume of shorts he owns could clothe a small army of lawn care professionals. 

"Well these are my work shorts," he said, searching for the required hole, grass stain, or protruding clump of plaster that qualifies an article for the designated pile. "Are these too tight?"

Mom monitored things from just behind him. She offered her commentary as well as some disapproval, but overall she gave encouragement as the pile of throw away items grew ever larger. "How about these? You never wear them?"
"Those? I like those. They're my golf shorts."

"But you already have so many golf shorts."

"But these ones are blue!"

I sat in the corner as a giddy bystander. I love listening to them process the other's ideas. Dad can effortlessly dismiss Mom's thoughts, while Mom grants him no wiggle room.

"What's that pile? Throw away?"

"No, those need to be washed. Go wash 'em for me."

"Why do I always have to be the one to wash things."

"You like washing things."

"No I don't! It's just that you do it wrong. Hey wait, put that in the give away pile."

"I like that shirt!"

"It has a hole in it!"

"So?"

We made our way through shoes; 

"Should I keep these?"

"No."

"I'm going to keep them."

To suits and dinner jackets;

"Oh now this, this is a nice jacket. I'm keeping it."

"No, they're all nice jackets. You have to get rid of some. Look they're all the same color!"

"But this one is really nice. It's Jos A Bank!"

"Just one, get rid of one navy blue suit. Come on! You can do it!"

"That one is a little bit outdated," I added. Suddenly Dad paid attention.

"Really? Ok, well let's get rid of it. Oh wow, look at this one. Now this is a nice suit."

"It covered in stains."

"No it isn't."

"Dad, we can see the stains."

"Really? Ok. You can take it."

And finally to neckties;

"No no, I need my ties!"

"You have way too many! And you never wear them!"

"But what if I need them?"

"You think you'll need 50?"

"Listen, I wore a tie every day for years!"

"Well, lets just pick out a few you could let go of."

"No!"

"Come on Dad," I said, "Look at this one. It's pretty tacky."

"Yeah, I guess that is tacky... ok, you can take it."

"Great, now how about this one? Pretty bad huh?"

"Not that one. I love that one!"

"Oh Chris, it looks like a tie for casket viewing."

"It's my only green tie!"

The best part about the green tie was that I looped back around to it after he had gotten into the purging spirit. When he saw that tie, that precious green tie he just had to keep, he said, "Oh that tie is awful!" 

"That's the same tie as before."

"No it isn't. I wouldn't have tried to keep that one."

I witnessed this scene for a good half hour and the giant grin never left my face. Dad did a wonderful job letting go of clothing articles from 40 years ago and even relinquishing a few pairs of enormous shoes. Mom was elated. I was tickled. Dad moved on to his next task as though nothing monumental, endearing, or interesting had happened at all. 

I could watch them all day. 

Cosmic Sabotage

An early winter's morning at Oak and Palm Acres.

There some kind of phenomena in my life whereupon I notice something, observe, ruminate on, or endure it for some time, and when I finally declare it to another human being it suddenly ceases to be true. 

Some examples:

Two years ago my heart was hurting. Sometimes it felt like it would forget to beat for a second. Other times it would beat real quick for no reason for just a moment before going back to normal. Sometimes, it just felt sharp in there. This was disconcerting to me of course, but because medical things can make me unreasonable, I just endured the beatings. Brett didn't seem as concerned about my heart's mutterings as I wanted him to be, and since medical things can make me unreasonable, I just kept waiting to die. Finally, I compiled a list of rapid-fire health questions and made an appointment to see my doctor. 

"Does this bone feel weird?"

"No."

"Is this normal?"
"Yes."
"Is this broken?"
"Possibly. Does it hurt?"
"Only sometimes."
"Wouldn't worry about it."
"Should I be able to do this?"
"No."
"My heart hurts sometimes..."

A chilly beach venture.

She was also not concerned with my heart, which should have been a relief but since its my heart and all, it seemed more like the opening dialogue to the documentary film of my life that interviews all the people I spoke to leading up to my untimely demise by a rare heart condition.

"Didn't seem out of the ordinary," my doctor would say from the mirrored interrogation room at our local precinct, handcuffs searing into her wrists. My parents would be devastated. It might even tear up their marriage. Ellen would be bummed out. Brett, precious Brett, he's the one who hired the film crew. Avenge my name, Bubba!

My doctor told me to "pay attention to it for a while" which seemed like what I had already been doing. "If it keeps up we'll give you a heart monitor." Presumably so they could pay attention to it for a while. Meanwhile my aortic walls would be dissolving into tissue paper. Sure hope there isn't a timeline on this sort of ailment. 
Anyways, it stopped hurting and dancing around after I proclaimed its presence to my doctor.

Christmas Cuddle Trap.

Similarly, there was this very sharp pain deep down in my brain for a while - mostly when I exercised or tied my shoes. I figured it was some kind of pre-aneurysm but I didn't want to be unreasonable so I waited around until I got scared enough. Then I went to my doctor.

"Well, pay attention to it for a while and then we can do a brain scan."
"But I have been paying attention to it. That's why I'm here. How long do I confirm that it's still there before it kills me?"
"Come back when you feel very concerned about it." 
I went home angry, and my brain never did that sharp aneurysm thing again. 

"So-and-so is coming to the party!" I'll declare. They'll go on to not show up.

"This restaurant serves the best dinner rolls." They've switched to breadsticks.

"I'm going to go for a jog today!" Existence will wear me thin.

Things like that. 

If I really want something I have to keep it to myself - but I suppose if I want it to go away, I just have to spend the money to tell it to a professional. Consider it a convenience fee.

This is all Preamble to telling you that I've changed my school project because I foolishly declared it in this public forum and then all the ends refused to meet (so to speak) and now I've had to change it. It's hard to make yourself wad up an idea and throw it over shoulder when you already spent a whole big bunch of time working on it and you could see exactly how you wanted it to go. I still want to do it, but I've got more things to learn first. Bleh. I can't tell you what I'm doing instead or else that'll go up in flames. 

It's almost like the world wants me to stop talking about myself.

Fruitless efforts - The early stages.

In fun news, we've continued our home improvement efforts to thrilling outcomes. We took our sad, empty living room wall and turned it into an abundant book display, with accompanying decorative accoutrements. It makes our living space feel much larger than before, which was an unexpected outcome. Second, EisenEars made some fake beams to cover the tension rods in our ceiling and it really cozied up the place. 

If I had been able to take pictures of how we hung those things...

Two Months In One

I've been hemming and hawing about this second post for January. Since December I've been in a frantic strategizing bubble and I haven't really come up for air. That said, December was a wonderfully full month of eating and gathering and visiting with people. It was the first time in my life that I gained holiday weight and I can't say I handled it well. I don't eat all that much as it is, and when you mix in the limited options a vegetarian will find at a potluck in the South, you don't imagine there will be much consumption taking place, but right there at the end of the year I woke up with a little paunch... and I looked at it, and it looked at me, and then I carried on with my day. Surely it would be gone in the morning. 

It wasn't. I looked at it again. This strange, uncomfortable protrusion. "What is this?" I asked Brett. He glanced up at me, bugged his eyes and went back to his book, grinning. "What?!" I shrieked. 
"Nothing. It's nothing!"
"It isn't... I'm fat now!" I wailed. "How can this be? I didn't eat that much! It must be a worm? Maybe I have a tumor?"

The paunch stuck around for about three weeks even after I went back to my regularly scheduled programming. It served as a brusk introduction to the confrontational task of aging, and I didn't like it one bit. 

In honor of the Christmas celebrations, which were glossed over here on this blog, today's post will be accompanied with December photos. 

As for the bubble I've been in - I'm in my last semester of school now. Can you believe it's almost been 2 years? This semester is a thesis-y, capstone project of sorts that you have to present to the school before it's all over. About a year ago I began planning for this class with the writing of a collection of "humorous" essays of real life bits and bobs but with the strategic planting of educational seeds woven into the story. I'm really not smart enough to write such things, but I thought I'd give it a try - and I've been working on it here and there since, waiting for this last semester to really dedicate myself to the task. 

Over this last summer, I had my practicum class, which is a course that makes you actually go practice teaching something to people. The majority of the people in my program are school teachers, so it's easy for them to implement this new content into their curriculum. The minority of us students are wayward drifters with good intentions, so suddenly having to teach people something proves to be quite tricky. One girl brilliantly spent the class developing a course and never actually had to teach it. I thought long and hard about it all, and knowing that I hate being in schools and that a person can't just wander into one and begin indoctrination practices, I made a last minute decision to create an educational video series for the "followers" I have on Instagram. Was it embarrassing and out of left field? Oh absolutely. I would publish a video and then shove my phone down in-between the couch cushions so I could pretend none of it had happened. 

Salt Marsh Monday (that was the name of my series) was much beloved by my advisor who found it "endearingly unique." It had its tiny fan-base, and those handful of people that were really excited about it, made me excited to make them. 
Oh but I was so relived when it was over. How embarrassing was that? I dusted off my hands and threw the practicum course over my shoulder. Check! What's next?

As I prepared to hunker down and write the essays, my brain kept working on my next video series. The Food System Series. I wanted to help people understand how our food system feeds into so many other topics and systems with outcomes and effects... and I just find it all fascinating. I thought about videos on what food labels actually mean and why we have antibiotics in food and this and that, but I couldn't figure out how to do it succinctly and without much background information - because Instagram gives you only 90 seconds to make a point. And moreover, how do I make this something people actually want to watch?

My brain chewed on this while I chewed on Christmas cookies and made merriment with my friends. I figured I'd be mulling this over for a year or so while I focused on finishing up school and looking for a job. I'd get around to it eventually, if I wanted to embarrass myself again. 

But then all of a sudden, it clicked into place. I drew up a map of interrelated food system topics, and organized them into sections, and suddenly I could see it all! I emailed my advisor - which I knew I shouldn't do because she's the kind of person who will take your idea, add to it, and have you thinking you're capable of it - if not also the only person who could possibly do it. "You're right Mary Pat, I should run for congress!" You can present her with an idea and be certain to hear her say, "Yes! And ..." so Brett calls her Yes Anderson.  

She tried to play coy about it, but we both knew it would be more effective and exciting than my writing a collection of essays. So I've spent the last five weeks designing a curriculum, building a syllabus, creating "edutainment" content, and writing scripts for my upcoming video series. Who is this person? 

There are only 12 more weeks of school, so I'm in a bit of a rush for the "series premiere." Filming starts next week. I now own three tripods, a teleprompter and a clip-on microphone. 

What am I doing??

I'm hesitant, tickled, and embarrassed. My plans for this go far beyond my schooling into an actual educational website and course offerings and whatnot, but for now I'm starting with another cringeworthy series brought to you by a queasy and unsure Big Lue.

The Big One's Birthday

It's belated but I'd like to acknowledge the Big One's birthday. He turned 37 which is strange to me because he was 27 when we met, and also I don't feel old enough to be married to someone who is 37. That seems like a legitimate adult age and surely I'm not mature enough for such a relationship. If you're keeping track, we've just been married 5 years. We don't think that counts for much because sometimes even celebrity marriages can make it that far. 

When you grow up watching movies and tv that portray married life as dull and monotonous, you just assume that things must be that way most of the time, and that people stay together because they have enough fun every once in a while that its not worth finding someone new. The husbands are useless and uninterested while the wives are unreasonable and naggy. I've always prided myself on being particularly reasonable (Is that funny to you?) so I was certain that whoever I married would appreciate me for just that. "She's just so reasonable!" he would declare to is friends. Turns out, living with another human only goes on to prove that we are all relatively unhinged.

What was I talking about? Oh yes, the marriage trope. I have not found the media portrayal of married life to be accurate at all. And maybe it's because it's all still new. Five years is still new when you're planning on making it to 105 years together, but I think we're on a good track. I'll circle back on this in 15 more. Brett makes me cackle everyday and sometimes we get mad at each other but mostly we wake up thrilled to see the other one still laying there, emanating their morning breath, anticipating the day the day ahead.

The average day here and Oak and Palm Acres starts around 6:30 when Brett's alarm jingle jangles. He lollygags for a few minutes before getting up to read, stretch, jog, or sit on the dock and stare at the sun. "It's good for your sleep rhythm." At some point he'll drag me out of bed (sometimes by my ankles) and then scamper off to greet the animals. He sings and dances as he gets dressed and makes coffee, while I bundle in a blanket and try to be as still as possible. Once he leaves, all of the animals and I wallow around and wait for him to get back home again. He just has this way of creating fun in all of the mundane bits of your day; grocery shopping, laundry, walking dogs. He's just so fun to talk to.

When he gets home from work the dogs and I get the zoomies. Our day just got good! Brett needs a brief window of time to decompress from work-mode.  "How was your day? Wha'd ya have for lunch? Was your boss in a good mood? Wereya able to focus? Did you get much done? How are you feeling? Have you thought about what you want for dinner? Let me tell you about my day...." 
Over time he has learned that he'd better finish decompressing on the drive home... can't imagine why. 

I think he's just the loveliest. I'm jealous of the people that get to sit near him all day. Do they know what a treasure-trove of jokes and wisdom he's keeping a tight lid on? I like watching him pretend to be professional. He's very good at it. No one would ever know that he usually puts a pair of my underwear on his head when he's folding our clothes. After dinner most nights, he finds clever ways to slap me around. (He doesn't like it when I describe it that way.) He'll shove me over the top of the couch, pile on pillows and blankets and then sit on the pile while I try to get out. He gets wild-eyed and lets out high-pitched "Yii!" sounds. He'll get me all tangled up in my own arms and I'm usually laughing so hard that I feel weak and sick. It's my favorite. 

I'll celebrate the existence of the Big Guy anytime.