I am so thankful that thanks to the Internet, I am never alone. Someone is always awake or at the very least, I can tweet something, knowing it will be seen later. Having such high regard for Twitter and Facebook seems silly and frivolous but folks, I lived in a rural area in which nothing happened after sunset. It was incredibly isolating and lonely.

That said, I like to think the Internet exposes us all to new ideas and ways of thinking. Unfortunately, what I’ve discovered is that while the Internet is a democratizing tool, what it enables is every mode of thinking from the incredibly ignorant to the brilliant. Or maybe I should stop beating around the bush: there are some stupid people on the Internet. And these stupid people often share their stupidity widely and loudly.

Am I being elitist? Narrow-minded? Judgmental? Yes, probably. And I own it proudly. Because when did the ability to think critically become a negative????

The truth is that that while the Internet has enabled unbelievable levels of connectivity, it has also given everyone a voice. And I’m shocked at some of what I read.

Before the rise of the Internet. I could believe that people were mostly intelligent and thoughtful. Now, however, I am forced to conclude that many people don’t have a damn clue what they are talking about and lack the ability to think critically. Because I’ve read them. Their articles. Their blogs. It’s appalling.

What the hell has happened to our civilization in which critical thinking has become a lost skill? And if your comment is anything other than, “OMG! U R a rock star,” your comment is deleted. What happened to discourse? To thought?

I realize that I am on a tangent, but I have seen some stuff recently that makes me want to throw knives at the wall. Hard. Deep impact.

So here is a brief list of what to stop doing on the Internet as of today. I know the list will grow and feel free to suggest your own items.

• Stop trying to prove you can eat healthily on $5 a day or whatever. Here’s the thing. You are missing the full picture of what it is like to be poor in this country, so your experiment is nothing but ignorant and elitist. If you want to replicate typical conditions, work outside the home all day and then have to take mass transit to a store in your area. Buy only what you can carry and then go home.  Or, go to a store and buy what is available period. Do you have an hour to cook lentils or quinoa? Or are your children asking for dinner around 6 PM because they need to be in bed before 8 so they can be up when needed the next morning? If I want to cook fresh chicken, it will take me almost an hour in the oven or 15-20 minutes on the stove top. Pork? 30 minutes in the oven.  It’s easy to focus on, “I bought all this awesome food for $5 and cooked in 20 minutes” when  you are either home all day and/or live in an area in which such food is readily available.  The bottom line is that YOU DON”T KNOW what it is like, and your laughable experiments help no one.
• Stop fat-shaming. Do you think overweight people don’t know they are fat? Do you think that your posting pictures on your blog of barely-obscured identities will help? Posting pictures is horrific and unethical. What gives YOU the right to be the arbiter for health and acceptance in this country? Especially when you likely don’t have all the information. Let’s look at statistics about poverty as well as food availability in an area.  Do you really think any parent wants their child to be overweight and unhealthy? NO. The problem, though, is likely what food is available and that can vary dramatically based on income level.  Not because the parents don’t know better but because of what is available and affordable.  So before you start fat-shaming children on the Internet, stop and think for a moment…a few seconds (surely your brain can spare that?) about what might be contributing the situation you feel compelled to pillory.

Rant over. For now. Seriously: what do you want to see ended on the Internet?

I Read Books!

Defending Jacob

A 14-year-old boy is found stabbed to death in the woods near his school, and Assistant District Attorney Barber is shocked to discover his son is the prime suspect in the case.  Jacob insists that he is innocent, and ADA Barber shifts into defense mode to save his son as the world he thought he knew falls apart around him and he is forced to confront unpleasant truths about his past as well as whether he really knows his son.  Most of the book is a courtroom drama, but there is a shocking plot twist at the end.

This book was a very fast read and very engrossing. That said, I didn’t think it was a very good book, but it earned raves from many prominent reviewers.   The father’s a jerk. The mother is a cipher, and Jacob is never fully present in the book. He is portrayed through recollections and stories.  One of Landay’s goals is to make you question whether Jacob is an sullen, emo teenager or a psychopath as well as whether there is such a thing as a genetic disposition towards violence. The problem is that you never get to see the world through Jacob’s eyes but through only his mother’s and father’s, and they are not what I would consider to be reliable narrators.

Landay employs a very surprising plot twist at the end that I didn’t see coming – it truly shocked me – but I felt like he spent so much time setting up the twist that it impacted his characterization. Maybe that’s why Jacob never seemed like a main player in a book that is ostensibly about him and his supposed crime.

Coincidentally, I read the book a few days after the Newtown shooting and maybe it was too soon. Maybe the frustration I felt over the lack of character development mirrored the frustration we felt at being unable to ask Lanza WHY.  We’re left to extrapolate meaning from memory and conversation relayed by others when what we really wish we could do is talk one-on-one.

Far From the Tree

Maybe it’s a good thing I haven’t had a chance to write a review for this book because I’m not sure how I could do it justice. Andrew Solomon spent a decade meticulously researching and investigating ways in which children can be profoundly different from their parents and what that does to our notion of family, identity and the world.  He begins with his own experience as the homosexual child of heterosexual parents and goes onto explore deafness, autism, disability, dwarfism, genius, schizophrenia, Down Syndrome, children of rape, criminals and transgender.

I cannot say enough positive things about this book. Solomon does a masterful job of helping you enter the worlds he describes and handles each identity thoughtfully and with great respect. I learned so much, and I also had so many ideas challenged. Each identity is its own chapter and that made it easy to jump around or take a long time to read the book (as I did).  I highly recommend this book if you are looking for a big book to chew on.

Lean In

So Sheryl Sandberg wrote a book. Maybe you’ve heard of it?  I eagerly read this book, curious to see what had generated so much debate and whether I, as a working mother, would agree or disagree with Sandberg’s advice. Overall, “underwhelmed” describes my reaction to the book.  A lot of what she advises is common sense: marry a man who will be a real partner; even if you plan to take time out of the workforce when you have children, don’t use that as an excuse t0 check out too early; take a seat at the table; don’t let fear hold you back.

I don’t mean to imply that it is a bad book; it isn’t.  Sandberg offers a lot of useful advice about finding a mentor (if you have to ask someone, then they aren’t a mentor) and how to assert yourself (focus on what problem can you solve for someone).  I liked that Sandberg talked about the conflict, guilt and a judgment she feels from time to time.  Sandberg has achieved a lot and knows what she is talking about, but I expected more.   Sandberg’s advice is for the individual woman in the workforce and what she can do to succeed, but there is no talk about how corporate America and our work infrastructure must change in order to make it easier for women to succeed and have families.   She comes closest when she notes:

“For decades, we have focused on giving women the choice to work inside or outside the home. . . . But we have to ask ourselves if we have become so focused on supporting personal choices that we’re failing to encourage women to aspire to leadership.”

There is a lot of truth in that statement, but what is left unsaid is that encouraging women to aspire to leadership is not enough. Aspiration won’t be sufficient to break through the real barriers that exist; what can business do to support women better?

Summer Reading List

We’re going to the beach in about 6 weeks (yay!), and I have been adding books to my list in the (likely) deluded hope I get to read any of them.  Here are a few that have caught my eye:

• The Interestings
• Sisterland (I’m not a huge Sittenfeld fan, so we’ll see if I like this one any better)
• Lexicon
• The Yonahlossee Riding Camp for Girls
• The Shining Girls
• The 5th Wave
• Poppet
• Life After Life

Don’t worry. I’ll also go through my book sale treasures for the conspiracy theory books that are my guilty pleasure

Confession

I’ve stated that I will read almost anything, and I mean that! If a book sounds fun or interesting, I’ll give it a shot, no matter how pulpy.  To prove this to you, I’ll share what I consider to be my most embarrassing read:

The Left Behind Series.

Yes, I read every book in the series. All 16.  I checked out those suckers 3 and 4 at a time from the library.  I was hooked.  I was intrigued at how the authors would tackle the Rapture and the events in Revelations.

And they truly weren’t the worst books I’ve ever read. Sensational? Yes. Over the top? Yes. Dogmatic? Yes. But this all-but-professed atheist found them riveting. Maybe they play into my conspiracy theory-loving soul. Maybe I was bored.  I don’t know, but I read the entire series, and I don’t regret it.

What is the best book you read recently?

What is on your summer reading list?

What’s your most embarrassing read?

Berry picker

Last weekend, Daniel and I went to a local farm and picked strawberries.  It was a blustery day, very unusual for May in North Carolina.  Daniel was so excited. Honestly, so was I. I’m not sure I’d ever picked my own berries before, and we’re fortunate to have several farms in the area that allow you to do so.

I quickly schooled Daniel on how to identify ripe berries vs unripe ones.  That explanation mostly worked.  I was left holding the pail as my super-fast little boy’s fingers nimbly plucked berries from the vine.  He might have picked a few green berries by mistake, and he definitely ate more than a few berries as he picked them. I gave up preventing him from eating them and tried to keep him from putting half-eaten berries in our bucket.

It only 20 minutes, we had a huge bucket filled with strawberries for which we paid only $10. Daniel tried to carry the heavy bucket to our car but after he left a trail of berries in his wake, I convinced him to let me carry the bucket.

I used some of the berries in daycare lunches for the week but was at a loss at what to do with the remaining strawberries before they went bad because I knew Daniel would want to go pick berries again and soon.  As I was prepping for the Listen to Your Mother cast party last Wednesday, I was inspired to bring along the remaining berries.  They had been picked by Daniel and he had more or less listened to my instructions, so it seemed right to have them at the party, like a little token from him.

***

Listen to Your Mother. Y’all.  I don’t even know where to begin or how to find the words. The cast was amazing and read flawlessly. It was so gratifying to hear the audience laugh at the parts that made us laugh and cry at the parts that devastated us. Our sold-out (!) audience was very into the show, and it felt like we were performing for family and friends. OK, many of us were, but there was an intimacy in the hall, and it was possible to connect one on one – a glance here, a smile there – with the audience.

I am so damn proud of us and the show we put on.  That these 14 women and 1 man were able to swallow their fears, doubts and anxieties and bare their souls. To be brave, to use the word of the night. It’s one thing to write something, publish it and walk away. It’s another to stand up in front of a crowd and read it, exposing the most vulnerable parts of you.

But this cast did it and knocked it out of the damn park.

Mingling with my pride is a wee bit of sadness. It’s like the day after Christmas, when you have the let down after weeks of euphoria and anticipation. I can’t believe the show is over and that 14 people came to mean so much to me in such a short period of time.  But we’ve converted our FB group to an alumni group, and I hope that we can continue to stay in touch.  I can’t imagine any of us would turn turn away the possibility of more friends.

There are pictures to come and the full video will be on YouTube in a few weeks, but for now, check out show photographer Jess Rotenberg’s post on the show with a few gorgeous pictures.

Too often motherhood is portrayed in the media as black and white: you’re either good, perfect and saintly or bad, selfish and neglectful. In reality, though, we know that motherhood is complicated. Mothers are complicated. It’s not and we are not black and white. There are many, many, many shades of gray and I am honored that we were able to give a microphone to these amazing women and man so that they could tell their stories.

Beautiful flowers from the cast after the show

Somehow, it has become May, and it’s time for our show.  It truly seems like only a few weeks ago when Marty and I were trying to find a location and then holding auditions.  It seemed like we had plenty of time before the show, but the day has come.

We’re ready. There are a few show-day hiccups however: one cast member is in the ER for pain and shortness of breath, and I sound like a 3-pack-a-day smoker thanks to allergies (hopefully) or a poorly-timed cold (hopefully not). But the show will go on, and it is going to be so awesome.

We’re sold out, y’all. Sold out. We hoped we would sell out, but actually seeing the ticket site say zero tickets remaining gave us chills.

And our cast rocks. Despite only getting together a handful of times, the 15 of us plowed through forming, ignored storming, and quickly progressed to norming and as of tonight, performing. They are exchanging emails and offering each other hugs and advice, and swapping stories.

I learned in Performance Leadership that the quickest way to build trust and intimacy is to share something about yourself, to show that you are human; that’s what each of us have done in our pieces.  Baring our souls has allowed us to gel, and I’ve never felt so close to so many former strangers in such a quick period of time.  Everyone one of us is grateful for the opportunity to be in the show and keep thanking me and Marty while we keep thanking them. It’s their stories that make this first-ever show in Raleigh-Durham possible.

I have a new dress. I have new jewelry. I have a new haircut. And most importantly, I have new shapewear.

Of course, none of that is important. We could read in burlap sacks and it wouldn’t alter the impact of our words.

Spare a moment to whisper “break a leg” at 7:30 PM EST if you can.  I can’t wait.

And work has responded by crowding my calendar with meetings, meetings and more meetings.  Today I was in Greensboro for our strategic plan refresh session. I was in meetings pretty much every day last week and will be in meetings every day this week. Even Friday, and that’s just wrong!

Months ago, I signed up to be part of PAIL’s Monday Snapshot. They told me it would likely be April before mine went up, and I promptly forgot.  Last week, they emailed me that Monday was my day, and I promptly forgot again. Then this morning, I woke up to an email asking if I had gotten the earlier email and if I could still participate. Yikes.

I was looking so forward to participating and had screwed up royally. I hurriedly found a picture, wrote a few paragraphs and sent it out. The PAIL ladies were very sweet to work with me despite my tardiness, and my profile went up later today.

I’m not usually so disorganized, and I hope to be in better form soon. In the meantime, check out my Snapshot if you have a moment.

We survived Monday, right?

I wonder if the right, the so-called conservatives or family-values brigade, realizes how contradictory its positions are.  Don’t have sex until marriage (the 1900s called and they want their values back), but if  you do and get pregnant, you better keep it.  If you are pregnant, that 8-celled embryo has more rights than you, but don’t expect us to help if the child you dutifully birth needs Head Start to prepare for school.  If you expect to get government assistance (AKA welfare) to subsist, you have to work; where and in what conditions you put those kids we begged you to have isn’t our concern.

Sure, I’m likely generalizing quite a bit and being a bit inflammatory, but honestly, I’m shocked and appalled at what is going on in this country lately when it comes to reproductive rights and then the lack of policies to help care for children from the self-named “family values party.”

Look, people are going to have sex.  They’ve had sex for hundreds of millions of years, and your declaration that sex outside of marriage (a fairly recent invention) is immoral isn’t making a difference.  Women want to have sex responsibly and be in charge of their own reproductive outcomes and seek contraception, yet there is a war on that.  Women get pregnant (because they didn’t have access to contraception) and decide to seek a legal (remember that fact?) abortion.  Unfortunately, for lower income women, it may be difficult to obtain one in the legally-allowed time frame due to cost.  As a result, they may have to seek one at type like Gosnell’s.  Do you think a woman wants to have a partial-birth abortion?  Do you really think a woman wakes up one day and says, “you know, I’m tired of this whole pregnancy thing. Think I’ll get a partial-birth abortion.” The woman who settles on a place like this clinic is desperate and poor.  She can’t afford earlier procedures or better conditions and puts her life in the hands of this so-called doctor.  It’s NOT a whim.

Let’s say the woman decides to have the baby and parent it.  That’s wonderful, right? Except for the fact that she will need to work to support her family and/or obtain any government assistance.  She has to do something with the child, right? Decent, regulated child care can be difficult to obtain at best and unaffordable at worst.  Do you think this mother wants to leave her beloved child in a situation that might cause unease? That might seem unsafe? Daycare is expensive.  Good daycare is VERY expensive.  How can you demand a mother work to receive any assistance, yet make it impossible for her to find decent care for her child?  And then when tragedy happens, you cluck that this is what happens when mothers enter the workforce, conveniently ignoring the fact that you have contributed to this Scylla and Charybdis.

You might be wondering what dog I have in this fight.  I admit that I am privileged.  I own it.  Jimmy and I are fortunate to be able to afford the best daycare for our son and any other services he might need. We have the ability to shop around and evaluate excellent facilities according to our whims. I’ve never worried how we were going to support our family.  Never worried about the toll an extra mouth to feed might take. Never had to fight for any type of contraception (and I write that with great irony given my particular conditions).  Hell, we were able to pay a lot of money to have a baby.  Conservatives, we are your people! Except for the fact that I loathe injustice.  I loathe children not being able to get a fair shake in life. I loathe children being placed in unsafe conditions due to a lack of government intervention.  I loathe women being treated as lower-class citizens.  I loathe feeling like my gender is denied intelligence in some political circles. And I also loathe being told what to do with my own body. And overall, I loathe unfairness.

I wonder what it says about a country that values upholding the right of its citizens to own guns–even guns that could almost be weapons of mass destruction–over valuing and caring for its youngest citizens. As Cohn’s article points out, government subsidy of childcare could have huge returns as far as reduced prison, health and special education costs and increased economic contributions.   To me, it seems a no-brainer. What am I missing?

After Newtown, I lost a friend on Twitter after I tweeted that the Republicans cared more about embryos and potential than actual children since they were reluctant to enact gun control measures.  I understand she was offended, but I stand by that sentiment, and nothing I have read has altered my stance.

The explanation often given is to let the free market decide.  Capitalism will decide. I don’t think so. When I was in high school and learning about different types of economic systems, my teacher pointed out that capitalism without restraints can be very harsh.  Capitalism is the “honey badger” of economic systems.  Unsafe conditions or too-low wages? Capitalism don’t care.  Read The Jungle and then tell me government intervention is  unnecessary. The programs FDR put in place and similar social programs were necessary to blunt the sharpness of Capitalism. Yet too many politicians seek to dismantle them. Why care for the elderly?  Why allow our citizens to feel like their country rewards them for any service? Hell, just let us die and then bulldoze over us to build the next monstrosity to profit (for a few!) Capitalism demands.

I’m mad. I’m angry. I’m furious that anyone, let alone any woman, any mother, regardless of financial status has to justify any decision she makes.  Has to jump through hoops to make pertinent decisions for herself, her body and her children or future children. Has to believe she has no other option than to go to a cut-rate abortion provider who doesn’t even clean up after prior procedures. Has to put her precious child in a situation that feels not quite right in order to earn money.

We live in the richest, most free country in the world, yet we’re content to let religion and dogma prevent us from doing what is ethical and what is right. Am I wrong to be bothered by that?

Daniel or baby Elton John?

The (Unintentionally) Inappropriate

Daniel, to himself, as he puts on his pants: That’s not the right hole.

Me: That’s a life lesson.

***

Daniel, at story time: Mommy, I want to get in you

(He means he wants my arms around him, but my eyebrows raise & I snicker like a 13-year-old boy every time he says it)

The Sassy

Daniel, after dropping a starfish in the car: Mommy, get that for me.

Me: I can’t; I’m driving.

Daniel: Oh, I think you can.

Me: !!!!

***

Me: Can you share your water with Elly (the starfish)?

Daniel: No. I will not share with Elly.

Me: Would you share your water with me?

Daniel: No. I will share with myself. I’m not sharing with anyone.

***

Me, during tuck time: Can I have one more hug and kiss?

Daniel, rolling over: I’ve already given you one.

The Sweet

Daniel:  Elly and Henry (two of his starfish) are best friends.

Me: Who is your best friend, Daniel?

Daniel: You are, mommy.  You’re my best friend.

Me: unable to respond because I’m a puddle on the floor.

A quick cuddle with his starfish

A month from now, these 15 women and men who were brought together due to their heart-felt pieces on motherhood, camaraderie formed, confidences shared, enthusiasm evident, will disperse.

For Raleigh-Durham’s Listen to Your Mother show will be over.

I remember in January as Marty and I bounced venue and charity ideas off of each other, how much time it seemed like we had.  Suddenly it was time for auditions and building our cast and our show.  And now, here we are in the last few–very few—weeks before our show.  It’s time to shift our mindset to publicity, to ensuring we have a full house for our show.  It feels like there are a thousand balls in the air that we are juggling for the show in addition to our “normal” lives of working, parenting and living.  We’re at the detail stage right now: designing ads, posters, programs; thinking of cast gifts; finding an after-party location.

It’s been difficult for me to be as engaged with the process as I would like since work has been crazy just when I need to contribute the most.  I hate feeling like I’m not pulling my weight.

Sometimes my mindset shifts to my old theater days in terms of thinking of the production: need to do this, tech rehearsal, costumes, etc. But then it dawns on me how special our show is, how remarkable it is to be part of the Listen to Your Mother organization.

Our cast is comprised of real women and men with real stories.  These aren’t scripted lines.  They come from the heart.  They are their reality.  The darkest moments.  The highest highs. Painful histories.  Worries.  Doubts.  Appreciation.  Love. Side-splitting humor   I feel honored that Marty and I have been given the opportunity to help bring these stories and these wonderful voices to a wider audience.  I take a step back and am awed and so proud to be able to do this for our community.

Tickets are on sale.  I’ve added a feed of the latest posts on our LTYM site to my sidebar (it’s a bit wonky).  Right now we’re posting cast profiles and posts on our gracious sponsors.  I’d love it if you’d click over and get to know the amazing man and women who will be reading on May 8.

A few months ago, we implemented a behavior chart to work on some issues we were having.  Daniel’s first reward for earning a certain number of stars (30) was the return of his train table, removed to our upstairs bonus room due to repeated bad behavior. Ask me how much I enjoy carrying that table upstairs and back down again while managing not to destroy it, fall down the stairs or curse out my husband.

The Behavior Chart

We needed a reward for the times when the train table had not been removed though.  Something simple.  One reward was a train we had set aside from the holidays.  Another reward was a new book.  About the same time, Daniel’s day care class studied the ocean and ocean creatures, and he became infatuated with starfish.  Charmed, we found a stuffed starfish on Amazon and that became another reward for reaching 30 stars.

Pleased with his new starfish, Daniel requested another one.  A purple one specifically (it’s his favorite color).  The frantic Googling began. We found a dog toy.  A cat toy stuffed with cat nip.  Um, no. Amazon let us down that time, so I turned to the next logical source: Etsy.

Unsurprisingly, there were several stores hawking stuffed starfish.  I scrutinized each one for suitability, vetoing all of them except one store. He made stuffed sea creatures, including hats and Christmas tree ornaments.  He had adorable mini starfish. He didn’t have one in purple, but I messaged him, and he said he could do it.  He emailed me color samples. We ordered three: one in the desired purple and two more in blue and red for back up.  It was easy.  We had the new starfish a few days later.

Daniel was thrilled with his new purple starfish and named him “Flynn.”  As we had suspected, he asked for more starfish.  Pleased with ourselves for ordering two more, we rewarded him with each one as he reached 30 stars on his chart. Eventually, we had Mommy Starfish and 3 baby starfish.

Then he asked for more starfish in different colors.  I returned to my dealer and ordered 3 more in green, orange and yellow. In due time, Daniel was rewarded with those three as well. Now we had 6 baby starfish and 1 mommy starfish.  Daniel made up a language for them, and they speak in a high-pitched, shrill voice.  Last night I told Jimmy that “this is what it sounds like when starfish cry.”

Daniel soon asked for another starfish, in white this time.  Again, we decided it was better to buy in bulk and I returned to my dealer to buy neutrals this time: white, gray and tan.  Last week, Casper the white starfish joined our family.  Last night, Mavis the gray starfish joined.  We have one more to go.

I’m afraid we’re running out of colors. I envision starfish covering his bed, lounging in the “ocean” as he calls the blue blanket on his bed.

Starfish are kind of creepy.  Thanks to our new starfish book, I learned they have no eyes or nose and only a mouth.  They surround their prey and pry open its shell to eat it. They regenerate their arms when they lose one (that’s been fun to explain to Daniel.  We hope he doesn’t attempt to observe it by removing one of his starfish’s arms).  They seem to be the definition of form over function.

But Daniel loves them.  Apparently Mommy Starfish mated with Daddy Whale to produce them.  He takes one or two to day care with him every day.  They make him happy.  So we put up with our increasing starfish population, and I’m grateful to have a dealer in California who can make and ship them quickly.

Our burgeoning starfish colony minus the newest one. So cute, aren’t they?

Now, for a few links:

• FUNNY WOMEN #98: Classic Novels Rejected by Modern Publishing Houses I could so easily see these novels receiving that feedback today
• How Much do Cats Actually Kill?  When I read this, I laughed so hard I cried. At work. My coworkers were concerned, but then I sent it to them and they laughed too.
• Why everyone should learn to code: an event recap. I agree 100% with this recap and was pleased to see English and linguistics majors highlighted as being very good coders. I was never a creative writer type of English major, but when I became a web developer (something that shocked the hell out of me), I often told people that coding allowed me to make pictures with language in a way I’d never been able to before.
• 10 of the Coolest Librarians Alive and 10 More of the Coolest Librarians Alive
• It can be difficult to be liberal in the South when many you know, are related to or grew up with are much more conservative as Misty proves in her great post Starbucks, equality and lost ‘friends’. I had a similar situation happen with the Chick-Fil-A debacle.
• I almost cried (again at work) when I read Law Momma’s post The Keeper.  So very raw but beautiful.

Now I have to figure out what I’m serving with lamb for Easter tomorrow.  Any ideas? I’d like to do something different from what I usually do, but I suspect it will end up being green beans of some sort, garlic-rosemary mashed potatoes and something else.  We are creatures of habit.

PS: I’m feeling a lot better about the work situation this week.  I think it will be OK, and I’m starting to feel excited about the possibilities.  Change is hard and sucks, but we’re all working hard to make sure we are still able to collaborate. I feel a wee bit less diminished than I did. At least this week.

Have a great Easter!

It wasn’t.

Fucking carpet beetles.

Come summer 2012, I was buying new shirts and a few new skirts and dresses to see me through.  Fall 2012 found me buying a few more items.  I tried to purchase carefully, knowing that at some point, hopefully, I would be getting back my wardrobe.

By Winter 2012 I was frustrated.  I had kept skirts but in some cases, inexplicably, not sweaters or warm shirts that would go with them.  I had kept only a couple of sweaters in general.  My stress-induced weight gain made some of the my meager wardrobe look like shit on me.  I was sick and tired of what clothes I had and had to talk myself down from deciding a (small) shopping spree was in order.

A couple of months ago, Jimmy told me he thought we could bring home our clothes.  We had waged war against the damn carpet beetles for over a year and (knock on wood!!), the situation seemed to be under control.  We set a date; I dared not get my hopes up.

Last weekend, our clothes came home.  That may be the stupidest sentence ever written on this blog for its sentiment, but I was thrilled.  THRILLED.  I had a wedding to go to last Saturday and reveled in the luxury of 4 outfit changes.  As I flipped through the clothes encased in plastic, I practically cooed.  I had forgotten about this shirt and that shirt and oh, look at the cute summer clothes I had forgotten (or tried to forget) I had!!

OUR CLOTHES!!! Yeah, we might have too much

I’m proud of myself for managing to survive on a few pairs of pants and skirts for over a year.  My wardrobe was thin, and I hope I didn’t look ridiculous for a year.  I’m a bit embarrassed by the sheer amount of clothes we have, and I suspect I have a lot of weeding and donations to Goodwill in my future.  I have a bad tendency to hoard and hang on to items much longer than I should, but I’ll be happy to go through and ruthlessly weed items that I easily got along without for a year.

But for now?  I’m enjoying the over-full closet. All of my socks are back! I wore a sweater yesterday from the returned items and paired a blouse and dress for today.  I’m far from a clothes-horse or fashion guru, believe me.  Many of the items in my wardrobe have been collected over many years, and I like to think they are classic and timeless.  This week I have enjoyed having variety from which to choose and just having a little fun with my wardrobe. I feel more confident and secure wearing my clothes. They are old friends.

Black dress w/ blouse back from storage

After the last couple of weeks, it’s nice to find a few rays of sunshine.