Psalm 13

I have had a very blah day. I was not at all productive at work -- don't tell the boss, but other than attending a couple of meetings I'm not sure I can recall anything I did today that was of real consequence.

I hate days like that. Time is far too precious to waste.

Unfortunately during the drive home "blah" turned to full-on grouchy. I spent time thinking about all the things I'm waiting on that just aren't happening. Like what? Like moving on from my current job and all of the day-to-day BS that comes along with it. Like Rob moving to day shift and us living in a normal rhythm, just like the rest of the world. Like getting our yard landscaped (enough with the rain already). Like getting the laundry done and put away, and not having my closet annihilated by a five-year old.

I am not a patient person. My impatience has bit me and my little family in the butt before though, and so I've spent the last three years really trying to get better about it -- and I have, honest and true. But right about now, with at least some of the things mentioned above, I feel like enough is enough. I'm singing David's song:

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? Look on me and answer, O LORD my God. Give light to my eyes,or I will sleep in death; my enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

Overwrought much? So OK, maybe that's exaggerating things a bit, but in all honesty I do find myself waking every morning and sitting on the side of the bed rubbing my eyes, asking "how long, Lord?" This is nothing new, just a remix on an old classic. When my parents were ill and life was, admittedly, much harder than it is now I cried myself to sleep every night asking "Please, God: how long, how long, how long?"

It was a very long time.

Maybe that's why I'm feeling discouraged now. Because we've been chasing things for months into years, but day after day it's just more waiting. And as I believe I've mentioned already... I'm not a patient person.

At least there is good news, and trust me I'm looking for that a lot right now. As it turns out, David's song doesn't stop there. It goes on, and he closes it like this:

But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me.

I believe this. I know it is true. I KNOW it. I know that good will come from waiting.

I'm just really, really bad at it.

Hang on a second

My blog seems to have gotten away from me. Small wonder -- most everything has gotten away from me these days.

I have friends who are planning on fun summers. It never occurred to me to plan a fun summer; I am too preoccupied by what isn't so "fun." They are traveling. They are taking their kids to the pool. They are going on vacations, going to the lake, sleeping in.

I am not. I am worried about... pretty much everything.

This isn't a woe-is-me post. Honest and true. It's just that in the last few days I've realized that time has sped past me and I'm not sure I have a lot to show for it. What would I say about the last year? Not much that's good.

What do I want to say about the coming year? Lots of things. I'd like to be able to say that the coming year was exciting, fun, happy. That I made good changes in my life. That I handled the bad (because there is always bad) with grace and faith and strength. And that most of all I really lived my life, rather than merely passing numbly through each day.

I need to work harder to finish those things I can't seem to wrap up. I need to make a point of letting go of some things. I need to plan to spend time with my friends and family. I need to remember that time to relax really, really is just as important as time to wash dishes, and pick up toys, and go to the grocery. I need to stop thinking about the future and get to it already.

I wonder if there's an app for that.

Tuesday night wrap-up

It's funny, how long days are much more tolerable when they're spent with people you love (rather than people you manage).

It's bath time now, and Sara is very tired. She should be -- we had a busy, fun day that included a trip to Traders Point Creamery, lunch at a "rest-uh-rant," a shopping trip to Trader Joes (where the pint-sized cart was manned man-handled by our pint-sized girl), and some playtime outside with kids from the neighborhood.

I often ask Sara to tell me about her favorite thing that she did during the day. This helps me know what she's doing while I'm off at work and keeps me in the loop on preschool drama or Papa's (mis)adventures. I asked her the same tonight, certain I would know the answer. But I was wrong.

"Sara, what was your favorite thing about today?"

"Uhhhhh, right now."

"Really? Taking a bath was your favorite thing?"

"Uhhhhhh, yeah? I fink so?"

"That's OK. It can be your favorite. I was just surprised, because I thought maybe it was when the cow gave you a kiss, or when we went to lunch with Papa, or when we made popsicles, or when you played with Thomas and Abby, or something like that."

"Oh. Spending time wif you was my favorite."

Now, the water was running and she wasn't looking at me, and I was busy making sure that the bubbles were really foaming up for a super-sudsy bath. So I wasn't sure I heard what I thought I heard.

"What, Sara?"

"I said SPENDING TIME WIF YOU WAS MY FAVORITE."

Funny. Spending time wif her was my favorite, too.

The long ride to preschool

I'm not sure how my mind got there.

I was just driving from work to Fairview last week, undoubtedly thinking great thoughts -- so great, in fact, that I can't recall a single one of them. Most likely it had to do with work and some things that I expect to come to pass over the next 18 - 24 months. I'm not looking forward to these changes. In fact, they might be deal-breakers for me.

And this is where the memory of my great thoughts becomes quite clear. I remember coming to that conclusion -- that if what I expect to happen actually comes to pass it could be a deal-breaker for me -- and thinking "Boy, do you have a lot of nerve." How many people lost their jobs last year, and along with them their savings, their possessions, even their homes? How many people would fight tooth & nail for a good, secure job today? How many people are scratching to make ends meet, thankful for the paychecks they bring home to their families? And here I am, suggesting that a change in my work environment just might cause me to kick my career to the curb? Boy, I do have a lot of nerve.

I know all of that. And while I often grouse about my job I am thankful that I have a certain set of skills and talent that someone is willing to pay for. The income that my job provides is vital. I'm not going to chuck it all because I don't like the new logo or am irritated by the new company line.

But here's the rest of the story: Economic crisis aside, it has never been in my makeup to imagine that there could be something else beyond what is laid out before me. I work in a setting where, with my particular background, there are not a lot of different career paths to choose from. Early on most of us decide on educational versus medical tracks; once you've established yourself & developed certain areas of expertise, that's pretty much your professional lot. At least this is how I have experienced it and how I have observed it in the lives of my colleagues.

It never occurred to me that maybe I had options.

It never occurred to me that other people had already figured this out.

By now, I was out of the car and walking the path up to the church. The significance of my epiphany wasn't lost on me. It's pretty liberating to realize that it really isn't crazy to think about chucking it all. Lots of people have done it and been incredibly successful in the process. There must be a way, a method of getting from A to B to C that people follow. It's different for eveyone, I'm sure. But there have to be common threads.

But it wasn't until I got to the door that the bigger lesson (yes, bigger than the freedom to change your life's work) hit me: I have to make sure that my daughter doesn't get caught in my trap. I have to make sure that she isn't snagged by the fear of change and failure that has left me blind to the fact that I can reshape things. I have to figure out what it takes to be able to do this, and I have to be sure that Sara knows that her path is not a long road without turning, but a winding, hilly journey -- and the joy of life is in the bends and turns of that journey, not the comfort of a smooth, straight, uneventful path.

I'd say it's about time for me to buckle up and enjoy this ride. Wouldn't you?

Garden porn

I've spent hours (no, seriously) pouring over the seed catalogues: Burpee, Jung, Territorial, Johnny's. After dreaming about all the possibilities, then paring it down to something more realistic, then paring it down to something that actually might be realistic, I've landed on the following line up for this summer's garden:

• Asparagus: Jersey Knight [in truth, this is still a maybe - not sure I have the space to dedicate. YET.]
• Pole beans: Malibu [probably no bush beans, but if so: Soleil]
• Carrots: Purple Haze and Baltimore
• Popcorn (yes, popcorn!): Calico
• Cucumbers: Diamant and McPick
• Lettuce: Petite Rouge, Jericho (romaines), Victoria (butterhead), & Microgreen mix
• Watermelon: Petite Treat
• Onions: Copra
• Spinach: Olympia
• Tomatoes: San Marzano Gigante, Golden San Marzano (paste), Chocolate Cherry, Yellow Pear (cherry), Brandywine, Pineapple, Kellogg's Breakfast (heirloom)

With some obvious exceptions (lettuce, melon) these were selected with both fresh eating and storing/preserving for winter in mind. Depending on how things pan out I'd also love to try some potatoes. We've never done them before but it would be fun to grow some fingerlings to have around next winter. I'm also hopeful that we can do some swapping with a certain fabulous gardener friend that I happen to know.

If we have a successful year or two (or three or four), then I'm hoping we can branch out and try some other favorites: beets, broccoli, cauliflower, winter squash, cantaloupe, sugar snap peas... obviously, I could go on & on. But I won't.

Oh! And then there's the herb garden...

• Basil: Aroma 1
• Chives: from my mom's original stand
• Dill: Dukat
• Lemon Verbena
• Sweet Marjoram
• Oregano: Greek
• Sage: Grower's Friend
• Thyme: French

Hmm. That's still quite a list. But I have no idea what I'd be willing to part with.

We've also got some strawberries that we need to get a better handle on, and I'm dreaming of red & black raspberry bushes and blueberries as well, and who wouldn't love blackberries and grapes and an apple tree or two?

Some day...

Getting ahead of myself

Today is Monday, December 21.

Just four days until Christmas.

I am not done with my shopping, and haven't even thought about wrapping, and have just a bit of baking/cooking to do. You might think that I would feel a little overwhelmed by all of this.

You would be wrong. The thing is, I have seeds on the brain.

More precisely, I have next year's garden on the brain. This is a phenomenon that usually sets in a week or so into January, when the dust of the holidays is long settled and that mid-winter funk starts to set in. The seed catalogues begin to arrive, and I spend hour after hour leafing through them, planning gardens and scheming about canning and freezing and preserving.

We will never have a big enough yard to fulfill these wild dreams of mine. (My dear husband should take some small comfort in this.)

I've been doing my best to stave off these cravings. After all, it's the holidays! I have a little girl who is VERY excited about Christmas, and Santa, and carrots for Rudolph! 'Tis the season! And while on the one hand I am not as overcome by the holidays as I have been in years past -- with the traditions and the merriment and the warm-fuzzy feelings -- on the other hand I am not as overcome by the holidays as I have been in years past -- with the rushing and the stressing and the why-didn't-I-start-this-in-October panic.

To me this feels like a year of transition, at least holiday-wise. This will be, to say the least, a Christmas like no other. The vestiges of the season spent so often with my parents have all but completely fallen away, and let me be quick to say: I'm alright with that. The traditions that are dearest aren't going anywhere. But still, it's all so different. A little freeing even.

Free to dream about seeds, and planning, and a summer spent working and playing in the garden with Sara; remembering how my father tended the plants and my mother put up the harvest, and then making our own way ahead. Maybe ultimately, that's really what I'm looking toward: time in the garden with Mom and Dad. A new season to celebrate with them.

Standing outside the fire

I was chatting today with some friends from work about a girl I went to school with many years ago. The details of her story aren't really relevant, but the bottom line was this: She's doing something she's just not very good at, but she does it proudly and without any trace of doubt.

And at that moment I realized how that would never, ever be me.

I am my own worst critic. My dreams never seem to get off the ground because I'm convinced I'm not good enough to do whatever it is I imagine. There is always someone better, or more creative, or more talented, or better suited, or more experienced, or luckier, or prettier, funnier, faster, smarter -- whatever. Some of this self-doubt is in the genes, I'm convinced, but most of it is just me. Me & that shitty little voice in my head that is incessantly reminding me of my mediocrity.

Sad.

Sadder still is that I'm not really sure what to do about it. I guess it's some small thing to at least recognize it for what it is. But even as I praised my old classmate for doing what she loves, critics be damned, I silently reminded myself:

But I could never do that.

Dying a million tiny deaths

OK. If I had the time and the money and the chutzpa to go there, I would totally go see House Beautiful's 2009 Kitchen of the Year.

Why?

Ina Garten.

Ina Garten will be there.

Ina Garten will be there, in an amazing kitchen.

Ina Garten will be there, in an amazing kitchen that she inspired.

And I know if I went we would be best friends.

Because that's how it works, right?

(I love you, Ina.)

(Seriously.)

Photo courtesy of The Food Network, via thebarefootcontessa.com

(Please don't sue me for copyright infringement.)

Forget Orlando

Oh no.

Despite what you have been led to believe by The Mouse, the happiest place on Earth can actually be found on East 86th Street in Indianapolis.

The internets have led me to a local shop that quite literally took my breath away when I stepped into it for the first time yesterday.

(Thank you, internets.)

Quilts Plus is now, I am sure, going to be both my salvation and my undoing, the place that lifts me up when I am down while at the same time torturing me with its endless (literally endless) possibilities.

Quilts Plus, I hate you for loving you so.

Unlike the Other Stores Which Shall Remain Nameless, the staff at Quilts Plus are nice -- friendly you might say, though I quiver a little at the realization of this, even as I type. No fabric nazis here; in fact, when the chief-cutter-in-charge said hello I quietly admitted to her that I had never been there before, and instead of sneering at me she actually welcomed me. With a smile. And enthusiasm!

But better than this, if you can dare to imagine, is the fabric. The FABRIC. THE MILES AND MILES AND MILES OF WOVEN EYE CANDY. BOLT AFTER BOLT OF FIBER FANTASY. STACKS AND STACKS AND STACKS OF TITILLATING TEXTILES.

Excuse me while I take a moment.

My mind literally started to spin when I rounded the first corner and spied the "kids collection." If only I had twelve more for whom to make totes and skirts and curtains and pillows galore. And seriously -- seriously, I tell you -- I could feel the breath catch in my throat when I rounded the next corner and realized that I had a least another half of the store to peruse.

Oh, and peruse I did.

But what really won me over, more than the fabulous staff and mind-boggling inventory, was that they had exactly what I wanted. The fabric I've been mooning over online for weeks now -- Moda, Amy Butler, Michael Miller, on and on and on -- was all there waiting for me. Even the one design that had been eluding me* at Etsy** (whose vendors, lets face it, have all the awesome stuff) was there standing in the stack just waiting to go home with me. I maybe might have squealed a little.

OK I did squeal a little. Don't judge me. The ladies at Quilts Plus didn't. They understand.

Quilts Plus, Quilts Plus, Quilts Plus... I think we've got a future together.

Miss you already.

*Sorry, no sneak previews... I've picked this out as a special gift for someone!

**I love Etsy so much that I have already plotted out my own online shop. I even have a name for it. And no, I'm not telling you what it is.

Something

Today as I sat in a meeting where I essentially explained to my boss that what we really need is someone to do my job who isn't me (you know -- in a nutshell), I got butterflies. I chalked it up to the many many great unknowns in my workplace these days and didn't think too much more about it.

And then driving home I felt it again. That feeling you get in your stomach when you go over a hill, or when you are waiting for something to happen, something you've anticipated and are excited about, but also a little scared about, too. You know -- Something, with a capital "S."

I felt it most of the evening, and I wonder what it is. I wonder if the me that I don't listen to often enough knows something I don't know. I wonder if Something really is coming.

Or maybe not.

I do know that it feels like the time is ripe for change. Not the kind of change that I'm trying to engineer (Lord knows how that doesn't work) but change that just comes, like kids growing and leaves turning and your wedding day come and gone seemingly in spite of yourself.

I'm not going to try and figure out what this is, or when it's coming, or even if it's coming. But for the first time in a long time I feel ready for Something to happen, no matter what it is. My life, in all of its smallness, has prepared me for whatever Something comes next. I've figured out that I can do it, whatever "it" is.

And so we will see.

Thinking

I've been thinking about blogging quite a bit lately. Haven't had much to say, I guess.

Here's what else I've been thinking about:

Kitchen tile
Bathroom tile
Range hoods
Kitchen cabinets
(Are you detecting a theme?)

What I'm good at
Cooking
Writing
Day dreaming
Not much else

Yoga

Sleep
Never enough sleep

My friends
Elaine
Amy
Bill
Mollie
Tricia
Angie
Megan
You (Yes. You.)

Business time
Too tired
(Never enough sleep)

Sara
Keeping her alive
Keeping her happy
Sometimes, mutually exclusive endeavors

Moving
More space
Our own stuff
Lots of windows
A patio
Flowers
Vegetables

Vacationing
Michigan
Maine
Outer Banks
Oregon
Disney (Because... right. It's Disney.)

Breathing

My broken Tab key
(Sara)
(Keeping her alive)

Dreaming big dreams
Gardening
Photography
Friends
Coffee
Rest
Home
Crafting
Cooking
Mothering
Playing

Mom
Dad
(Always)

You
Most definitely, you
I miss you
(Yes. You.)