Join Me

Love

There is a little bit of a daredevil in me, but only if someone else drives. Johnathan doesn't mind driving, but prefers to play it safe.

I feel guilty about wanting to eat something I know I shouldn't have. Johnathan feels guilty after he looks in the mirror.

I read the books. Johnathan watches the movies.

I think cussing is okay, as long as I don't do it in anger. Johnathan thinks cussing's a sin and only does it when he's angry.

I would rather argue than have Johnathan mad at me. Johnathan would rather I be mad at him than we argue.

My idea of quality time is getting coffee and enjoying one on conversation. Johnathan says that's not doing anything. His idea of quality time is getting dinner and enjoying a movie.

We (Johnathan) decorated for Christmas today. This involved moving around some furniture, but ultimately it helped us put stuff up in the attic that we've been meaning to for some time now. You can actually walk into our office now, which is cool. That's been the dump room for months-- whenever Johnathan has papers or music or cd's or dvd's or belts or deodorants that I'm not allowed to throw away, they end up in the office. I'm sure we're not the only household who does that, but I am getting off of topic. I absolutely love the way the house looks after we move stuff around. It's always been that way-- even if we just sort of rotate furniture every few months. Change refreshes us. It encourages a paradigm shift. It shines a light in angles previously undiscovered. It helps us get at the hidden dirt and grime. Of course, I have more than vaccuuming in mind; I'm thinking about what change does for our lives, too.



There are a lot of people who fear change, but I hope that my family will always be able to embrace it for what it is: a new start to get out of an old rut.

I have just put the (not-such-a) baby down for a nap. She is sick, so I'm crossing my fingers that she sleeps. Her eyes look a little rounder than usual, not so bright, and one keeps watering. I can see she doesn't feel good, and it got me thinking about how some days I just don't feel good. On these days, Johnathan is constantly questioning, "What's wrong?" and I'm constantly answering, "Nothing." And truthfully, these days go bad because of several "nothings" that add up to grumpiness. Of course, I'm sure that the hormonal imbalances of being (almost) 30 weeks pregnant play a role in feeling upset while "nothing's" upsetting me, but that's something I can hardly understand myself, much less explain to someone else. It's almost like I literally embody a rainy day.



Drip, drip!

I've Got an Itch

So these last few days were rough. Not because we did anything, because we actually did nothing. But those days are rough. None of us felt good: Aubri had an ear infection, I had a head ache and sore throat, and Johnathan has a sore throat and earache. So we laid around the house and watched TV. And I always feel gross about myself on these days, so to have three in a row really did me in. I had a hard time getting up this morning, and was not going to go kickboxing but decided at the last minute I was feeling up to it so I jumped in the car, running a little late.

Today is beautiful. I rolled my windows down and jammed the car into gear, and the trip to kickboxing got a little more violent (with that gear-shifting) than it has since high school when I thought it was cool to always be in front of people. The instructor didn't show up, but the ride back home and around town for some errands was just as fun, and I realized I needed to read a book. Not re-read a book, or read the beginning of a book and never finish it, but really read a book. A new book. So I am looking for suggestions! My plan is to sit on the porch and enjoy the weather while my kid shreds paper and hands me the pieces. 

People with Disabilities and that Little Blue Sticker

When I worked for DLP, the closest parking lot to our office had several handicapped parking spaces, which is quite normal. However, those handicapped spaces were taken up by obese HR employees who had a harder time walking than most but no other obvious physical disabilities. None of us is sure exactly how these HR employees obtained Handicapped parking permits, because a friend of mine temporarily confined to a wheelchair was denied one despite providing a doctor's note and clearly being unable to walk. To sum it up, my experience with the Handicapped spaces has been a running cynical commentary instead of any serious consideration for people with disabilities. 

Today, however, I was changed. At the Starbucks in Boonsboro, I put my (awesome little red Honda Fit) 5-speed in reverse and checked my mirrors before backing out. The lot was full, except for the Handicapped parking space immediately to my right. An elderly woman pulled into it, but we both noticed the elderly man with oxygen tubes in his nose that was following close on her tail. 

The woman called out to the man, "Excuse me, sir, I'll be just one minute!" (Meanwhile, he's in his car behind me and preventing me from leaving.) 

An argument ensues. She does not have a Handicapped Parking permit, nor does she have difficultly walking-- elderly or not. (A line of cars has formed behind the elderly man, and I still can't back out.) 

I can hear her explaining her reasoning to the elderly man who DOES have a permit, in addition to an oxygen tank. "This store, here," (a UPS store), "has failed to send a package to New York like they should have. It will take me just one minute, sir, to straighten the situation out, and then you can park in your space. It's not your space, any way, it's for people like me, too!" (More cars have lined up; I still can't back out, and this woman clearly has no right to the only Handicapped space in a very full parking lot.)

She heads back to her car, and for a second, I thought she was going to move. So did the man, but it turns out she was just getting her purse. In anger, the man drives off to find another space, and the woman begins to laugh.

My windows are down, and she clearly thinks she's in the right so she turns to me and asks, "Can you believe that he expected me to move?"

Rather chagrined myself, I reply, "Well, the space you are in requires a permit, which he has. Do you have one?"

I can see immediately I have offended her, so she tries to defend herself to me. "Well!" She sputtered. "I am only going to be one minute! He can wait if it's absolutely necessary."

"And you can move. There's a reason it's illegal to park there without a permit."

She glares at me a second before hustling into the store. I can see the elderly man shuffling across the parking lot (holding up traffic, because he is towing an oxygen tank and going very slowly.) He has a package in his hand, and I decide to see who comes out first. 

Sure enough, after 2 minutes, the elderly man is the first to leave the store and is having visible difficulty making the walk back to his car. I can see the woman in the store having it out with the store clerk (exaggerated gesturing and occasional hand-on-hips attitude) and shake my head. A new respect for parking permits has entered my soul, and I find I no longer resent those handicapped parking spaces. 

Things that Make me Squirm

Grammar and spelling errors get me literally biting my tongue and spelling and re-spelling the word/sentence in my head until I have got it out of my system.

I hate feeling like I have a booger in my nose while I am out in public.

I have to put lotion on after I have touched water because I am constantly rubbing my fingers together.

I grind my teeth when I see a cop.

I worry I will hit something whenever I go through a drive-thru.

My legs itch terribly when I run outside and I can never decide whether or not to scratch.

Determining how much my request to fix a Starbucks drink will annoy the barista who messed up. 

I don't like annoying people.

I'll admit it, sometimes letting Johnathan take the lead makes me squirm.

On the other hand, I never want to go first when we walk into a restaurant or church or into a movie theater. I let him open the door, then I follow him to the seat of his choosing.

My heart never fails to leap a little when Aubriana first sounds a cry.

The smell of puke is pretty gross. Sometimes the smell of the trashcan is worse. 

I am so not a backseat-baptist. Sitting in the back distracts me and I can never settle down.

What Do You Do With Your Time?

I have a difficult time answering the question, "What have you been up to, lately?" My days are filled; but I can never recall what they are filled with. Truthfully, I haven't watched an episode of NCIS since our DVR broke last week, so I must be busy. but with what? It makes me think a little bit. 

"Well, you know-- I've been working out, and visiting Johnathan at work, and I get coffee every day. And, of course, there's my daughter, but...what have I been doing with my time?" 

I figured it out today. My work is in relationships. See, for a long time I was terrible at keeping up with people. I didn't hang out, I didn't go out, I didn't want out. But despite an earlier post, I really have been working on connecting with people. I realized a few weeks ago how disappointing it was that a friend of mine never talked to me about the way God spoke to her. And when I heard (indirectly) the way that God was speaking to her every day, I felt gypped. I felt gypped because of the weight of glory; we talk about every day life but here she has something going on in her life that's eternal. I feel like she should be sharing that with me, because I want some! 

Yesterday was a busier than normal day for me, and I was exhausted by its end. But when Jess stopped by to drop off food for align I realized we needed to talk. So we talked. And we laughed. There were silly things and pointless things and deep things and God-things, and it was good. And I think God was pleased with some of it.

So what do you do with your time? I am happy to say I have been building relationships. You should join me!

Awake but Still in Bed

I had read Kate Chopin's The Awakening before, but I only remembered once I had finished re-reading it. I did not remember finishing it because I could not recall what happened, but having definitely finished it this time, I know why I couldn't remember the ending. She essentially commits suicide, which is too easy a way to wrap up a book which tangles emotions and beings and conflicts till only a high degree of inner tension is left.  Then again, no one wants to read about how that tension explodes, so maybe that's why I forgot the ending: it was a relief not to have to get into that pain. 

Edna Pontellier's inward struggle only confirms something I have noticed in my own daughter: the more she realizes she has thoughts and feelings and wants which are distinct from mine, the more unhappy she is. It makes me sad, because we really are a small part of a Great Big Wholeness but we feel that in order to be ourselves we must exert our own force of personality which proves our individuality. I am not sure this is the answer. 

He

Every once in a while, one of us sleeps in the guest room to get a night's rest of uninterrupted sleep. It is easier when I do it cause Johnathan takes more stuff to bed with him than a normal person takes on long trips (i.e. computer, 8 DVD's, phone, phone charger, Kool-Aid, trail mix, condoms [you know, just in case], Benadryl, Advil, and sometimes a bowl of ice cream), but Johnathan sleeps better in there because of . . . the cat. Apparently he (the cat) needs me. He (the cat) can't sleep without me. And when that guest room door is closed and he (the cat) can't find me, he (the cat) develops suspicions. 

Last night was my night. Johnathan was watching the 2-hour season finale of 24, and I just ached for bed because my darling angel of a kid got up at 5AM that morning. So at 8:30 I was snuggled all warm in the bed. At 10:30, he (the cat) was banging on the door. And even though he (the cat) is a cat, when I say "banging," I literally mean "banging." He (the cat) takes his paw and just swats at the door which of course shakes it in its door jam, and the resulting noise is most definitely a "bang." I open the door and swat back at him in hopes he (the cat) will leave me alone. Unfortunately, opening the door confirmed his suspicions and doomed me to a night's rest of oft-interrupted sleep. Still I persisted, through the door bang's of midnight, 3 AM, 4:30 AM, and 5AM. But once the 7AM one came, (and I realized I had probably stored up enough pee for a 30-second long stream) I got up. He (the cat) was absolutely ecstatic. He (the cat) followed me into the bathroom (for a 22-second pee) frantically weaving in and out of my legs. When I crawled into bed with my husband, he (the cat) jumped purring onto my chest and refused to budge until the baby started to cry. 

He (the cat) makes me feel very necessary to the world. 

Not in Pursuit

Sometimes I can be pretty stubborn. I know this might surprise some of you, but it's true! I am in one of those moments right now: I absolutely refuse to chase people. The last six months or so I had been doing a pretty good job (by my standards) of keeping up with people and relationships through invitations to hang out. But lately I have been doing less and less of that, and have found myself on a lower stress level as a result. You see, when you invite people to hang out with you who are willing to, but probably would not have thought to invite you if the situation were reversed, you leave yourself subject to being stood up, forgotten, cancelled on, etc. And this stuff stressed me out. 

There's seriously nothing worse than scrambling at the last minute to occupy your day.

So I have decided that for the next three months, I will extend no invitations to anything unless it is my turn to reciprocate. In other words, I am waiting to be invited to hang out before I do any inviting. And while this might leave my social calendar a little more open space, I think I will feel better about it.