Static

I've been debating with myself over whether to post this or not, but I have to comment. I just have to.

I was having a conversation with someone the other night, and this person said (to paraphrase),

'I don't see the point in having a 10 year reunion because no one has changed at all except the expected changes anyway. I know I haven't changed at all.'

I think there were three people sitting in the conversation. No one responded. I'm not sure if the mutual silence was recoil or if the other people were in agreement with this (apparently stunted) individual. It took me a minute to regain my voice, but then I tried to gracefully and tactfully respond that I couldn't think of anything that hadn't changed in my life.

I find myself replaying this conversation and feeling vaguely sorry for this person right now.

But this blog isn't about other people, it's about me. And it's about how the one thing I took away from this weekend is that as I've grown up I have learned and I hope many others have too...I have never felt regret for being kind to people.

And really kind.

Not just to their face, in your head too. Wish them well, be interested in their lives. Other people's successes are not your failures. Most people are just like you, trying to get by.

It is totally worth the extra effort.

But I'm not gonna lie, I'm not planning another reunion. Ever again. Or if you want the unedited version directly from my brain:

When hell freezes over.

So here are a few of the great pics from last night! This is K and I at the Starlite lounge. K is my friend who watches Holden 2-3 days a week and he loves her. She also helped get me through last year with her encouraging emails. I really don't know how I would have made it through otherwise. It seems like everytime I was down and totally exhausted I would receive an uplifting email from her, telling me she was praying for me. I totally don't have her permission to post her picture, but she looks great here so I don't think she will care.

My wonderful husband happens to have graduated in the same class as me.

No we did not date in high school.

This 28 year old isn't used to 3 a.m. two nights in a row.

I'm ready for a nap.

Mostly Sunny

So the weekend is here, finally.
10 year class reunion here I come.

I have to say, with the kid at grandma's house (and only minor problems there--Grandma had to take him to urgent care for a quick x-ray of a bruised foot/ankle bone...poor kid), and the husband golfing with an old high school buddy, I have nothing to do but stretch out in my bed and rest my eyes.

Or read a book.

Or dance around the house half-naked listening to early seventies music, flat ironing my hair, ironing my clothes, and putting on makeup.

What?

Don't pretend like you don't do it when given the rare opportunity.

Under the big top

I spent yesterday driving halfway across the state with my grandmother. Perhaps the most interesting thing I learned yesterday is this:

My people are nomadic circus people. No Joke.

My Great-grandmother grew up in a traveling circus and her father used to be a tight rope walker.

This is so interesting I seriously couldn't have even made it up.

It also explains me and the funnel cake.

But I want it all

As I was loosely following my daily routine today, I started thinking about passion. I wonder how many people actually do something they love on a daily basis. I also wonder how many people started out doing something they love and ended up somewhere else.

I must first say I love spending time at home with my son. He is a little ray of sunshine, and a blessing in my life.

This morning I started thinking about the few times within the last few months that I can recall a clear and abundant feeling of exhilaration with what I was doing
(of course excluding marital moments which isn't exactly the topic at hand here! ;)

The first is when I was doing simulation as charge nurse at school. That felt right.

The second was when I was driving home from an auction where I found some great deals and spent only $18. I went on a whim, spent the morning bidding, and every time I see the antique primary colored Pyrex mixing bowls I bought (among other things) sitting in the cupboard, it makes me smile.

Now, it is unclear to me whether the feeling of exhilaration from these activities is because I am meant to do them or because I am an adrenaline junkie. I have a tendency to believe it is the latter, because I also love roller coasters and scary movies and almost became a paramedic instead of a nurse.

The other time I feel my best is when I am baking. Anything. I would open a bakery if I thought I could actually make money doing it.

Is there some way to open a bakery/antique shop, have children, and work 3 shifts as a nurse on the side?


Do you love your job now? What would you do if money were no object?

The Scenic Route

I was flat-ironing my hair this morning and wondering about my class reunion, which I briefly mentioned in my last post. It is causing me a lot of anxiety, even though I have seen pretty much all of the people who will be there at least once since I graduated from high school.

I think the most anxiety producing aspect of a reunion for me is making small talk. I've never been good at it. In a rare mood I can turn on the charm and be "on" for an hour or two. If I drink half of a fifth of vodka it can last slightly longer (that's 8 drinks for anyone interested). My husband is the one with the sparkle, and I am content to sit back and enjoy people watching.

I don't want to talk about my life much. A conversation isn't like a blog.

I don't have an hour to edit it.

I don't want to talk to my former cross-country teammate or the people who worked with me in the lunch line about how since high school both my parents have died, I have been pregnant 5 times, gotten married, been in school intermittently and haven't finished yet (nor will I for many years), my career goals, or retirement plans.

The only thing I feel is a safe topic is my wonderful child, and I definitely don't want to be one of those boring people who only want to talk about their kids.

But maybe I am.

How about politics, religion, or the economy?

Maybe I should pay a visit to the MSN wonderwall ?

I should not be wasting time thinking about this on a Tuesday morning.

As you may be able to tell productivity is my middle name these days.

I think my husband may have been a carnie in a former life. He made me funnel cake tonight...mostly as an experiment because he knows about my complete obsession with funnel cake.

Something about the way the powdered sugar melts into the hot golden brown batter and oil of a funnel cake fresh out of the pan. Oh my.

I am beginning to think maybe my husband doesn't like to be able to feel my hip bones when he grabs my waist...because he has made me 3 fried dishes this week. Crab cakes, fish tacos (with homemade beer battered fried fish), and funnel cake.

Ten year class reunion here I come.

While he was standing over the hot oil, he turned around and found me standing at the kitchen counter, fried batter in hand, pajama top and face covered in a light dusting of powdered sugar.

Yes, that's me.

Sexy.

He encouraged me to eat another whole funnel cake but I told him about my rule about one funnel cake per year.

No really, it's my rule. So I dusted myself off and held my ground.

Then we had a rather lengthy discussion about how a funnel cake might taste when it is reheated-- and I pointed out that I don't think I've ever had a funnel cake last long enough to wonder if it tasted good reheated.

Really.

So now my carnie husband is boxing up the remaining funnel cakes to share with his coworkers on a work-related road trip tomorrow.

Do you think cold funnel cake tastes like doughnuts in the morning?