She Said / She Said: Goodbye

Posted on May 9, 2011 by Laura

Laura

I realize my view of life is a bit like collecting badges in Girl Scouts.  Each piece represents a small skill or experience.  When taken by itself the occurrence is just a scrap of fabric, but when taken as part of the whole becomes a thread in an elaborate tapestry.  Writing this blog was a badge I enjoyed earning, but time has moved me past that endeavor and onto other little things.  I cannot say there is something so pressing that I will be doing instead of sitting with you, only that there are lots of small things I’m interested to try.   That, and this prize has been won; I’m running out of things to say.

In the Renaissance there were more people like me: people that liked to work for badges.  We’ve evolved into a society that prefers depth over breadth, and I can’t seem to find a place to display my trinkets, here.  There seems to be little place for someone who’s tried everything but is good at none of them.  But because you’ve let me whistle on to you about this or that week after week I’ve even gotten up the gumption to pen a novel.  A bad one, mind you, but I’ve done it.  Another merit badge.  For that I will be eternally grateful.

As I take my leave of you, let me just say I’ve come to believe there is no road but the one we all share.  Don’t spend time looking for the less travelled avenues because whether we feel we belong or don’t, we’re all headed in the same direction.  There is no right way, no easy step or meandering course; it’s all just taken-in until it isn’t.  What’s best about viewing it as a more travelled road is that I get to share it with you.

Emma

I blog to make sense of my life. I blog for the same reason that I recently indexed our pantry and taped the final version to the inside of the pantry door. I like to be able to see what I have, what I’m thinking, and what I’ve accomplished (or have left to do), and I do that best out loud (or in sloppy – occasionally amusing – written word littered with parenthesis). I like to be able to hear or read what I’m thinking, and to have a reference to return to, for those (oh so frequent) ‘what the hell road did I think I was going down when I did that?’ moments.

Also, I like to share. More than anything, I love it when I admit that I went some ridiculous direction or had some out of the wild blue thought and someone else says, hey me too!

You have let me share my life-indexing and road-mapping with you for a year now, and every time I log on to write I have appreciated it. Consider yourself gifted with a big old kiss or an invitation to me and Laura’s doomsday ranch (the address of which is still unknown to even us, so let’s keep our fingers crossed that doomsday is still some years away), whichever you prefer.

I have other outlets. I have two other blogs, and somehow three things can seem overwhelming where two can’t. I have loved my time here, but The Road More Travelled was a project for Laura and I, and without her I too shall move on.

Obviously, she, I, and all of you are going to kick ass on our own travels. I wish you all nothing but sunshine and happiness on yours. Ok, sunshine, happiness, and an umbrella and a broadsword.

You know, for emergencies.

 

Bye!

Love Emma and Laura

Posted in Ramblings, She said/She said | 1 Comment

Lost and Found

Posted on May 6, 2011 by Laura

Why is it that we can be so sure of some things and so lost about others?  I was sure that I wanted to have children.  It may have seemed impulsive at the time, but I didn’t hesitate because I didn’t have anything to think about.  I was sure I wanted to marry my husband.  Never once did I get cold feet.  But I’ve never been sure about what to do with my life.  I’ve soul-searched and pondered, gotten advice and done workshops, read every book on the subject I could find.  I may never know what I’m meant to do.

Sometimes I think we see an area of life more clearly than the rest.  I had a friend who desperately wanted to get married but couldn’t seem to find “the one.”  On the outside it seemed that she didn’t know what she wanted from a relationship, but after years of watching her dating habits I concluded that she didn’t want a marriage; she wanted a fairy tale.  She’d bought into the idea that there’s a perfect person out there for her and was vigilant in her search for him.  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that real marriage is always settling for a real person.  That doesn’t make it less wonderful, but when you’ve got your heart set on perfection it’ll never measure up.  That was my take on the scenario, anyhow.

The flip side of knowing what you want is having the ability to get it.  I’m often stumped by which direction to go, while others find their ideal path road-blocked.  The millions of women in fertility treatment come to mind.  Or the people in prison.  I tell myself that if I only knew what I wanted I’d know what direction to go, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking.  Sometimes there’s no work-around.  And if that’s the case then it seems like we’re all just sitting around with the engines running.  Some of us are waiting for the road to clear, others for a sense of destination.  I suppose others are just out of gas, or otherwise waylaid.  Why, then, do I feel like the only one on the side of the road?

 

Posted in Growing Up, Ramblings, Work | 1 Comment

Just for Today

Posted on May 4, 2011 by Laura

I get quote of the day, and today I was blessed with this gem:

“The passing moment is all we can be sure of; it is only common sense to extract its utmost value from it; the future will one day be the present and will seem as unimportant as the present does now.”
— W. Somerset Maugham

Sometimes one good thought is enough.

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Unpacked

Posted on May 2, 2011 by Laura

I took Friday off because I was on vacation and figured I deserved at least one small token of respite.  I’ve worried about it since, but it was a good exercise anyway.  On the way home from Florida I realized that most everything that happens to you can be summed up this way: It’s not what you expected.  As long as you’re okay with making things up, readjusting, growing you’ll be okay in life.  But if you’re like me, not good on the spot, anal, and steadfast you’ll probably meet life’s hiccoughs with a little more mustard than you’d intended.

For the first half of my vacation I was trying to figure out how I’d been transported into the past.  As we were driving down a major interstate the first day I saw a gigantic Confederate flag flying on what could only be assumed to be public land.  Are you kidding me?  Now let me just say that I believe in freedom of speech- whatever that speech may be- but that just seems so… unpatriotic.  As in, “Hi, we’re the people that don’t want to be part of your country and we’re still hung up about it 150 years after losing the big war over it.”  They can do what they want, I just feel affronted.  What’s wrong with America the way it is?  But after a few days I simmered down and realized they’re just proud of their past.  It wasn’t easy, but I think I’ve made my peace with it.

On the plane ride home I was having another moment when all the nice people around me were watching a movie I really wanted to see but I couldn’t because it was taking all my available reserves to keep my children quiet.  I whipped out one snack, game, show, activity after another all the while trying to keep my tiny cup of Coke far enough away from flailing arms as too prevent it from spilling all over our 3 cubic feet of living space.  When I ran to the bathroom to hide out for 3 minutes by myself I realized that life wasn’t so bad as long as you don’t expect it to be different.  Knowing that nice people get to drink cocktails and watch the movies and laugh at witty articles in magazines is available, just not to me, and it would be better to know that going in.

So finally today when I’d unpacked the bags, done the laundry, gone grocery shopping, made dinner, and cleaned up I had to remind myself that everything is okay as long as I don’t have it in my head that it’s just or fair or easy.  And I know that sounds pessimistic, but really it’s freeing because once you let go of the idea that things are going to work out the way they do in your head, all you have left is what is. Truthfully, what is actually facing you isn’t that bad, but it’s hard to remember sometimes.  So I’m home from my vacation and wondering what my normal life will bring.  I have an idea, but I’m trying not to put too much stock in it because it seems a lot less exciting than vacation.  You never know, though, the reality might just be better.

 

Posted in Musings, Parenting, Travel | Leave a comment

jitters

Posted on April 28, 2011 by Emma

I have a final exam today. I’m as prepared as I can be considering when I started preparing. That is, if I’d been paying close attention in class and taking copious notes for the last four months, I’d be better prepared than I am, but since there’s no good way to go back and do that, the IMing-with-my-brother-while-taking-half-assed-notes version of me is as prepped as possible.

Anyway.

Last night, I was a big old pile of loopy. Go see the bottom of my post today on emmanation for an example of types of made up jokes I subjected my boyfriend to for hours on end. (He finally fell asleep right in the middle of them in self defense). I couldn’t sleep, even when I pulled my never-fail sleep method – think about sea horses.

Really, thinking about sea horses puts me to sleep in no time flat. I think it’s their little horsey heads.

Then this morning I dropped a bottle in the kitchen and spilled my coffee and almost spilled Crockett’s coffee.

Added all up, I thought perhaps I was more nervous about the test than I claimed to be, but that doesn’t seem quite right. I’m not that nervous. It’s an exam in a course that’s required for a major that is no longer mine. The only reason I didn’t drop out is because I would have had to pay the school some quitter money.

More likely, according to a study published recently, is that it has something to do with the fact that it’s shark week. Or lady week. Whatever you want to call it.

You know, Aunt Flo is visiting.

From the University of Melbourne: “Podiatrist Simon Bartold said lower oestrogen levels at the beginning of women’s menstrual cycles reduced their muscle tone and coordination.”

Sure, there’s no mention of bad jokes, but I can’t blame everything on my lady parts.

Posted in Body | Tagged | Leave a comment

Just Wrong

Posted on April 27, 2011 by Laura

I recently saw a Queen Latifah movie called Just Wright.  (If you have a problem with romantic comedies as a genre you wouldn’t like it, but I have a point so stay with me.)  The gist of the movie is that a famous basketball player falls in love with a beautiful girl who burns him and so he has to learn the hard way that the plump, fun, witty girl is actually the one for him.  The take-home message of the 102 minute film is: you can learn to love a fatty.

I’m mad about this because if the gender roles were reversed you’d lose about 90 minutes of plot. Christy Brinkley could be cast opposite Jason Alexander and nobody would bat an eye.  It’s expected that women look beyond the exterior when choosing a mate, but evidently it’s worthy of a full length feature film when a man attempts it.  I have a couple of theories why this is:  1) We hold men to a lower standard when it comes to morality and depth of character; 2) Women don’t insist their mates be their physical equals.  It’s bad enough the double standards exist, but now the movie industry is exonerating them.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I love that Hollywood takes our social issues head-on.  Someone was telling me the other day that it isn’t good to flaunt homosexuality in movies- that it might give kids the idea it’s okay to be gay.  I totally disagree with said person, and love that movies challenge the injustices of the world.  In this movie, though, I hate how they’ve made the man into a hero.  He’s supposed to be revered because he discovered that true love isn’t about a dress size.  I mean, grow up already.  If they really wanted to challenge the issue they should’ve made a movie about something else entirely and just cast a hot guy with an average looking woman.  They could’ve left it to the viewer to reason that she was worthy of him based on standards that ran a bit deeper.  Now that would’ve been radical.  And appreciated.

 

Posted in Feminism, Growing Up, Reviews | 2 Comments

bebies

Posted on April 26, 2011 by Emma

It’s official, y’all.

Every heterosexual female friend I have is pregnant or has had a baby. Or multiple babies.*

I read once, probably in Sassy (otherwise knows as the best magazine ever), that a good way to tell if you were ready to have kids is if you had a least a passing comfort with all of the main age groups. So if you were completely enamored of infants but found toddlers terrifying, you were probably just in an awwww-babies phase, not a hey-sweetheart-lets-talk-about-stopping-our-birth-control phase.  I have no idea if this makes sense in any way, but, wevs. I’m using it.

I used to be terrified of every age.

See, Crockett has these niblings (nieces and nephews) and the first time I met them I was scared to touch them or talk to them or look at them.

I have grown slightly more comfortable, overall. I haven’t, say, changed a diaper – like, ever – but I can be left alone with a two year old and fairly accurately guess what she should and shouldn’t be putting in her mouth. LEGOs: no. Bread from under the couch: eh, sure.

Laura has kids, and I get to see one of them pretty regularly, and I just love her to pieces. I’m not good with her, necessarily, but I don’t make her cry with my very presence.

The thing about babies is that it’s all very exciting. A little girl that I see fortnightly can say my name, and I find that a big deal. Crockett’s niblings hug me and I’m all man, I must be the coolest person evah. The feedback, especially from the point of view of an outsider, is immediate and quite satisfying. I poke a kid and he cries! It’s like they’re real people! (Please rest assured that I did not and will not at any time poke a child, and that my sense of humor is not necessarily always on point.)

I don’t actually want kids right now. I don’t want to get all sleep deprived and I don’t want to have to put someone else’s needs before my own all the damn time. I don’t want to be pregnant because I like both wine and sushi, and I enjoy not being poked in my personal areas by a variety of medical professionals.

I do, however, see why all my lady friends are doing it. Babies are little people. Who hang out with you. And learn your name. And give you hugs. It’s kind of awesome.

*This is not true. I also have several heterosexual female friends who got married and are now divorced. That is a whole different kind of scary.

Posted in Body, Growing Up, Musings, Parenting, Trying New Things | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Easter Monday

Posted on April 25, 2011 by Laura

Easter Monday

Did you know in some countries the day after Easter is a holiday?  I’m not sure why this is.  I was in Germany on that day many years ago and there were all sorts of special offerings because most people had the day off.  I didn’t know any German so I considered it lucky I was able to order soup- there was no way I could get into the intricacies of bank holidays versus symbolic anniversaries.  Nonetheless, happy Easter Monday, even if you are at work.

 

The other day a woman expressed to me how ludicrous she found the story of the Easter bunny.  I’m right there with her.  How, and why, would a rabbit hide eggs?  She compared the lore with that of Santa Clause- evidently that’s a much more convincing lie to tell to children.  The kind of reasoning that dismisses the Easter Bunny but accepts Santa Claus assured me she was religious.  Like all atheists I wanted to point out that belief systems are only as strong as their weakest precept, but I held my tongue.  I understand the desire for more.  There are so many times I want there to be more to life than I can rationally justify, and I can’t blame anyone for seeing something they want to see.  But I do feel the need to stand up for non-believers.

I’m going to continue, but I will do so lightly because I realize it may be but a thread that keeps you from slamming the lid shut on me.  Here’s the thing: We are part of this world, too.  And since so many public policies are made by believers, for the benefit of believers, I would like to make it known that we are here and expect a freedom from religion as much as others deserve a freedom to religion.  One of the only times I’ve ever felt heard on this issue is in viewing of Religious.

As poor old Ebenezer Scrooge says, “Keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine.”  He, by the way, always gets a bad rap, but actually represents something important: the right to abstain.  And sure, Mr. Dickens wanted us to know that should we choose to do so we’ll be issued a ticket straight to hell.  I guess that’s a risk I’m willing to take.  And if you’re worried about my poor children, don’t be.  They get to eat copious amounts of sugar and deviled eggs, just like everyone else.  We do it to shake things up, to have fun, to participate in modern American culture.  And that’s reason enough.

 

 

 

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Vacation

Posted on April 22, 2011 by Laura

I love The Happiness Project (book and blog), and recently Gretchen Rubin wrote about how it made her happier to start her vacation early.  She would usually have blogged the Friday before she left, but decided that she’d get into the spirit and start the break early.  Good for her.  I was thinking of trying it and it, only made me feel miserable.  What’s that about?

In general, I’ve noticed that not doing something I should do only makes me feel worse.  This comes up most often with exercise.  The kids are in bed, and suddenly the ice cream is burning a hole through the freezer door.  I want to just sit down, suck up some happy times and eat things that are decidedly bad for me.  It always sounds like a good idea.  But what really happens is that I’m up half the night because I didn’t burn off whatever stale energy I had lying around at the end of the day.  I think that energy just sits in my muscles, twitching every time I nod off.

The upshot is that I can’t ever let things go.  My husband begs me to leave the dishes for a few minutes while we play a game or read on the couch, but I can’t. In fact, I’m so wound up about getting things done in a timely fashion that if I’m stressed he asks what needs doing around the house.  He knows I’ll calm down once things are off my plate.

So back to vacation.  I was thinking of taking the week off from blogging.  It’s hard to be out of town and still worrying about life at home.  Still, I find it endlessly fascinating that people can partition their lives up into such clean-edged pieces.  If you love something enough to do it regularly, how could you possibly stop thinking about it during leisure time?  My husband always reads computer science text books in his spare time even though he works on computers all day.  Now that I get.  So maybe I’ll write next week, and maybe I won’t.  I’ve decided that a vacation, in this instance, means not having to worry if I deliver or not.  Should the urge to blog strike, you’ll be the first to know.

 

Posted in Ramblings, Travel, Work | Leave a comment

Oh Cripe

Posted on April 20, 2011 by Laura

I’ve found myself creatively swearing.  Not in colorful, interesting ways, but in the “I’m-going-to-use-a-close-approximation-of-what-I-really-mean-because-my-kids-are-standing-right-here,” kind of way.  You’re familiar with the language I mean: cripe, fire trucks, oh my goodness, cheese and rice, shut the front door.  Not only is it humiliating to be uttering such nonsense on a regular basis, but I’m pretty sure it’s missing the point.  Let me digress a moment to illustrate.

I was at the dentist when a surly teenager emerged from the back.  She’d had a fluoride treatment and was complaining to her mother that she couldn’t eat Raman soup that night since she wasn’t supposed to have hot liquids.  In the course of their paying, rescheduling and leaving the mother and daughter made it abundantly clear that they were, forgive me for my candor, a bit low rent. For example, the receptionist asked if she could put them down for something in October.  The mother replied, “I don’t know, aren’t you supposed to know when I need to come back?”  Then when the receptionist explained how she was asking if they could book it that far in advance the mother said, “How am I supposed to know what’s going on in October?”  Later the hygienist told me the teen kept saying rude things like, “I like to see the same cleaning person each time.  Can’t I have that girl over there?”  The the hygienist informed her she’d been the one to clean her teeth the last time.

I bring this up to illustrate how social class can be ascertained from language and attitude.  It was obvious that in this family rudeness was the normal discourse.  But as you move up the social ladder you’ll notice two things about the way people speak: 1) higher class people tend not to voice complaints or concerns in public, 2) they tend not to be rude or use bad language.  I find this interesting because people of all income levels have problems.  You might think that those of us in the lower tax brackets have more reason to complain, but that’s not necessarily true.  Though the wealthy don’t have to worry about food or shelter, per se, they have stresses in their lives equally as taxing.  I haven’t ever put together a billion dollar merger, but I don’t imagine it to be a day at the zoo.

So back to the original problem: I semi-swear all the time.  I do it because I feel the need to swear, but don’t want my kids screaming “Oh shit,” when they spill the jar of crayons at school; that would look bad.  But given my hypothesis that people handle dissatisfaction based on their class (higher classes are less verbal about it) then using a substitute for a foul word is still achieving the same effect.  Whether my kid says “oh crap” or “oh cripe” really amounts to the same thing.  For better or worse, I’m of a social class that periodically swears.  Still, I don’t think I want my four-year-old using some of my new favorites: Jesus Christ on a piece of toast, or Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ (thank you Diana Gabaldon).  No matter how you slice it, that ain’t right.

 

Posted in Education, Musings, Parenting | 5 Comments