I don’t think I’m a cold or callous person, but I have to admit that sometimes, I feel less alone when I hear about the big fat mess that exists in other people’s lives (and minds). I don’t want anyone to suffer, but it’s a part of life, and it’s sometimes helpful to be reminded of it.
In case you’re like that, I thought I’d share the story of my really shitty day yesterday. Feel free to be all smug and think to yourself, “Well, at least I’m not that bad!”
As an exercise in I don’t know what (halting boredom in its tracks, maybe), I spent some time this morning looking back on my blogging career to see what I could see. And what I learned was: Continue reading
This is a weird time. It’s sad and scary. It’s colorful and creative. It’s overwhelming and enlightening and stimulating and freeing. And exhausting – mustn’t forget exhausting.
My daughter left for college last month. She is a couple thousand miles away, and let me tell you, it’s just weird. It’s a big deal, but not necessarily in the way I thought it was going to be.
I had nothing to say today. So I was trying to write about how I had nothing to write about when – ta da! – my brain did what it does best. That is, it got distracted and wandered off without supervision and got into trouble. So now I have something to write about after all, which is great even though dinner is ruined.
I’ve never been the kind of mom who has a plate of warm cookies waiting on the counter for my kids when they come home from school. Certainly I’ve made plenty (okay, a few) batches of cookies in the past 18 years, but mostly any sweets we have in the house come straight from Safeway’s cookie aisle. My own mom was the same: she made a pretty good chocolate chip cookie from time to time, but usually it was Oreos or Nilla Wafers after school, and I never felt neglected. Continue reading
I have only one word on my mind: fifty. Not, mind you, as in fifty shades of gray or anything that exciting. Rather, fifty as in: holy fuck, I’m five decades old and what have I done with my life and how many hours have I wasted playing word games?
That kind of 50. Continue reading
Let’s talk about mushrooms. And when I say “mushrooms,” what I mean is “motherhood, and the incomprehensible fact that someone is actually letting me be a parent and I haven’t gone to jail yet and maybe I’m not fucking up that badly after all.”
(Side note: don’t those mushrooms look delicious? They probably were, but I don’t know, because it’s not my picture and those aren’t my mushrooms. Photo credit: Lewis Suraz, Flickr Creative Commons)
When I wrote the other day that I’m not actually a grown-up, I was surprised (and delighted) that so many of you claimed to have the same problem, and I felt a little better. Then I found this draft of a blog post I wrote a year or so ago, and felt a lot better, because I realized there’s a reason I have a hard time behaving like an adult: it’s because my family has given me brain damage. Continue reading
You may remember my decisions to join a roller derby and learn to play ice hockey awhile back. While thrilling to think about, I never followed up – and unfortunately I used my lack of follow-through to beat myself up for being an unmotivated hot mess, especially since I haven’t really exercised on a regular basis since I broke my ankle three years ago. Then I tried pole dancing, and that was great but it made me nauseas and I never went back. Well, I’ve got a new obsession. And it’s the superest invention in all the world. (Superest should definitely be a word if it isn’t already.)
I want my life to be this.
I’ll jump right in: The three other newbies in yesterday’s Intro to Pole class were, as feared, young, thin and relatively athletic looking. They were college friends, and when the instructor, Tausha, asked why we wanted to learn pole dancing, they said they wanted to “dance against a wall” for their boyfriends. Huh? Tausha asked me what aspects of pole was I most interested in – athletics, strength, dancing, sexiness, acrobatics – and obviously I said acrobatics. Because if I could learn to hang upside down from that pole and do other cool circus kind of stuff, that would be my jam.* Continue reading