It's all About the Gnomes

 

Photo by Brigitta Schneiter on Unsplash

Christmas fads may come and go, but a gnome, pointy hatted, and fuzzy bearded is forever. Even when it isn't. I hope I always have a gnome watching over us during the Holidays.

Thanksgiving break. Are you all drowning in the memories? I am not sure I am drowning in memories person, but it is IMPOSSIBLE not to have little flashbacks around the holidays. The magic of youth-was anything better than playing with my many cousins? There was always a little initial shyness and then we would become fast temporary friends, playing hard, gathering memories. It wasn't until later I realized I didn't fit in. I do wonder if that was influenced by mom's discomfort. She had real reasons to be uncomfortable but maybe sharing it with us wrong. I have probably passed than onto my own kids. Well, it takes a long time to open your eyes to the bigger picture. It's okay. 

Thanksgivings away from family when I was married to my Air Force ex-husband. Time with friends. I miss friends. I actually love having people over-once they are there. The dread and cleaning and shame over my less-than-perfect house and lacking housewifery skills make it so hard. And now I never meet anyone I think would mesh. Maybe friendship is for the young. And I remember how my ex's friends were always fun, and the fancier, middle-classier people I snuggled up next to, always turned out to be so tremendously dull-party-wise. Fun and intelligent when sober-dull as tombs for letting your hair down. Not that I am some wild child-but a little too much wine, a little too much laughing, a little too much silly girl-- talk that's where it was at.

Later, Thanksgiving days, miserable somewhere, and evenings with my mom when my kids went with their dad. And on and on. I don't really like Thanksgiving. Brown and orange? Really-what kind of decor plan is that? Turkey? Oh well. Time off work is nice, although I still have to work with my homebound student.

When did Barefoot wines become screw cap? There is something...fancy-feeling about corkscrews and corks, and this screw-off cap isn't working for me. 

Last week, I decided I was going to dive into alternative religions, maybe buy some herbs, impart meaning into crystals, search elsewhere for the missing. And then suddenly, I don't want to. 

I feel the pull of traditional religion, despite being a Democrat and knowing I would likely never be completely accepted in traditional religious groups because I actually believe in feeding the poor without forcing them to listen to a sermon and treating immigrants and refugees like humans rather than animals. What a sinner I am. But at Christmas time, I long to stand with a group and sing praises-to feel the light and warmth. Or maybe it is God pulling me back-I know he loves me-though I think it is more in the ugly, unplanned daughter way, rather than a cherished child. I tried reading about the tug back to God-(if you know, you know)  but it just talked of guilt, and guys, I just don't feel that. I feel guilty when I hurt people, but guilt for pulling away from organized religion? God is God. If he is strong and all-powerful, he doesn't need my guilt. He doesn't need my tears. I am a drop in the ocean. And I have this fear, this deep, undying fear, that Heaven is going to be SO BORING. I fear it will be like that middle-class Thanksgiving, with subdued restraint and polite small talk. 

I want more! I want to be a warrior, fighting a battle for good. I want to soar through the Universe and dance in the ocean of an alien moon. I want to be beautiful and fall madly in love with someone who loves me back and wants what is best for me, and slowly let's go when it is time for me to move on. I want laughter and dew dropped lily of the valley wreaths wrapped around my head while we dance happily in rings as the golden sun rises. And friendly, happy gossip and hand-holding and glowing, crackling firelight, and books of knowledge crammed into libraries with stars for ceilings. 

And seafood. I am craving creole-flavored seafood. I find myself thinking of my Marketing teacher at MSU, in the intro class I needed to get into the MBA program. It was such a fun class. Practical, but -still creative. The older teacher liked to talk about how she had crayfish flown in from the shore because they had to be fresh and they had to be from New Orleans. I want that life. I only got a B in there-like so many classes I took the grade drop to avoid the presentation-but this time, I wasn't avoiding. I was interviewing for the Teacher job corps (whatever it was called) in NYC. I didn't get the job. But I did get a trip to NYC and a chance to meet native New Yorkers, and walk through Central Park, and buy a coffee at a coffee shop, and wear a suit as I walked through NYC, and it was pretty amazing. It wouldn't have worked out well, though. A single mom in NYC with no family to help out? Nah. So I came back and started the MBA program for awhile. It was crazy interesting, but I didn't have a focus there, so I went back into the teaching program. 

Knowing what I know now, I should have double-majored in geology (or geography should geology be too tough) and antiquities (because come on! That's would be so interesting). I should have gotten my master's in geospatial science-although the job market is probably better for younger, single people-which is sort of what stopped me. I would have liked the public admin master's too-I was in it for a week or so, but doubts over not having a clear path overcame me. But maybe not. I had some correspondence with graduate geology program, advisors and I certainly would have gotten into one, even without a background in geology (some math and physics will make people drool--they probably think I can do programming or something-ha-jokes on them), but really, I just wanted to go to Antarctica to study ice cores. But I think, I think, I just wanted to go to Antarctica. I think, I am much more into experience than actual scientific knowledge. And I think, that's okay. Once upon a time, I would have hated that-called it shallow, but screw that. It's a rare person who really wants to study the chemical composition of the polar ice caps. And it is okay if I am not that person. It is okay not to be the smartest or most serious. What isn't okay is this deep longing that I am supposed to do something, and not knowing what it is. Once upon a time I wanted to be a mom, just raising babies and homeschooling and being all right-wing and homemakery--where did that girl go? Was she even me? She certainly married the wrong danged people to live that lifestyle. I just---want to know the whole danged point of dreams and desire if maybe they aren't even real. Maybe they are just influenced by a book I read and a romantic notion. So weird.

What I am doing is fine. It is. I just-don't know what to do if there is nowhere for me to climb. I don't know how to stay still. I don't want to stay still. 

Red Moscato is good but so so sweet. I am just a cabernet gal, I think. 

My two gnomes are watching from the side table, wise, quiet, mystical. I hope when I sleep tonight, I fall back into the ancient dreams of wise women long-past.

It has to beat this mornings dream about cleaning out a filthy garage filled with spiders.

November Weather

 This weekend has been a weekend of wet, falling grey skies and cooler temps. Otherwise known as November. It has been perfect. I have been lazy and homebound (mostly) and enjoying it as much as a mom of three loud, boisterous, fighting boys can. 

I am reading two books this week. Queen of Shadows is part of the Throne of Glass series, which is pretty good. I am losing steam on it, I think due to the lack of romance-I am a sucker for romance- but  I will finish. Plus I keep reading spoilers, which isn't smart, but I get impatient.

In Nonfiction, I am reading The Art of Showing Up: How to be there for yourself,  and your people. Thus far, it appears to be about knowing yourself and knowing your boundaries. It's pretty good. I struggle with the first part: the knowing yourself and your boundaries. I think the problem is, I read too much. I know I am this person, I think I should want to be this person, and if I want to meet worldly success I should be this other person. And thus, I struggle with deciding who exactly I want to be. The common-sensical side of me says, umm, girl , you aren't a spring chicken. Look at who you are and where your energy is now and it should be evident where your values lie-, but alas...I want more.

My marriage is in a weird place. My spouse and I are separated, but he lives down the hall. It's cheaper and easier for now. We still do some things together. It's a weird place to be. I will spare you the details, but my own boundaries were crossed one too many times, and I just had to put my foot down. And now we are floating in this weird limbo area. I know, realistically, I am not good at dating. I have high expectations, huge needs for independence and privacy, and yet crave intimacy and getting lost in love. I think my romantic self actually sabotages my ability to fall in love. Since I went nearly five years without a relationship when I was single in my late 20's and early 30's, I don't imagine it would be better now with more weight, an older body, and less energy. I don't like casual sex, I can't imagine 50-something men desire raising someone else's young boys. This may be it for me, romance-wise. I used to think I was just too shy or picky, but now the words, "low end of average...just a 4," keep resonating in my head. Maybe I already knew that anyway. But in this world, a girl needs to at least FEEL pretty. Well.  Maybe I will just have to place my energy and hope elsewhere. Plus the men I am attracted to are not the type who I respect in the long run. I am a mess!:)

But I love having my own room, and when my two little ones stop creeping in bed with me at night-Oh the good sleep I will get. 

But I am lonely. I am lonely, folks. I want to shop with my girls, sometimes, but don't want to be a burden, so I don't ask. I find myself thinking of how people would go calling in the past, a la Little Women, and wish there were just a designated time when we opened our houses for people. Just an hour or two once a week. I want to write a novel, but fear I have nothing to say. 

But it is delightfully Novembery, and I wonder what Anne would say about such a Novembery day. Although on P.E.I. I imagine November is more like December here. 

Next week, I really should get out and explore the world a little more. But for today, this cozy room is all I need.

All's Quiet on the Domestic Front

 I haven't had a lot to say lately. Truly a series of disappointments has been laid at my feet this autumn (along with some lovely times, as well), and I am trying to adjust and see where to go from here. 

All this striving and pushing seems to not get me anywhere. Part of me is like, well, duh! You are an INFP, they are smart and capable, but rarely really accomplish anything. The other part of me, is like, yeah, you are basing your life on a made up system which has been discounted by most serious academics in the field of personality. 

I lost my Amazon affiliate status again, and the overall failure just made me feel like I need to stop trying to run a successful blog. The truth is whatever value people are looking for, they aren't finding it in my blog. Plus, I am disillusioned with Amazon. I know of at least two purchases that were made from shared book through the blog, and yet Amazon said there had been none. Suspect, I say.

When I closed my online shop there was little remorse. I feel a little sad about it this week. I think it is because I am breaking away from reading ALL the time-it is so hard with the boys and their constant need for care-particularly Alec. The shop was doing okay, I felt. Not what I wanted, but slowly building. It had been really taking off pre-Covid, but who cares about clothes when you are sitting at home all the time. But it isn't my passion. What is my passion. Does lying in bed reading books and daydreaming about romance and travel count as a passion? Or is it just escapism?

I am beginning to feel the box lid closing. Like there is all this opportunity and hope and romance in the world, and yet my expiration date has past, and I am being placed on the shelf to await patiently with all the other people who didn't make it. Just biding our time, until it IS time. Time for the box to be chucked out in the garbage bin of the Universe to make room for all other boxes of middle-aged people who didn't make it.

I am separated...sort of. When 

The Things Which Should Be Easy

 

Photo by Joshua Fuller on Unsplash

Sometimes a decision is made and the door is shut. Deciding to shut down my online kids clothing business was one of those. No real tears, no loss of real joy or passion-it was just a decision made. It was time to focus my time and finances elsewhere.

But there are some decisions which tear at the edges of your  mind. Decisions which cause one to second guess and doubt and feel real sadness. What is initially a choice of empowerment fades as reality sets in. Self-respect doesn't provide much companionship through life's daily trials and adventures. And part of your brain keeps digging for the good, the gold, the precious memories. And they were there. And you want to hold onto them and you want to keep going down the precious memory path, but the truth is, the insidious pitfalls are already set and waiting. And every time you think, one more try, you end up hurt and crying and wondering why you didn't end it when you could.

Is this a victory? It isn't a reason to gloat. It isn't a reason to celebrate. It is a loss, a closing of a door which will lead to pain. Is it the right thing to do? Who knows? Who ever knows such things? Pain and pleasure lie with every choice. Some people cling to religious texts for answers-some seek out  modern day prophets for guidance. I am just---trying for forge a path, trying to keep my eyes open. Today is a Golden early November day. But January will hit. Long, cold nights will happen. I just remind myself that I want more than companionship. more than mere coexistence. I want to be able to say what I think without fear of it coming back at me in anger. I have a lot to learn. I need to learn to temper my own words with wisdom. I fear future decades of depending only on myself and whispered prayers for companionship. I fear making a big mistake-because nothing has a clear path.

Decisions which are clear-cut on the outside are never that way when you are living them. Nothing is simple. But letting go, while keeping an open heart for the future, not always turning back and wondering what if,  must be the only path there is for someone like me.

Maybe there is no right or wrong. Just choices. Just actions and consequences. Maybe wonder at the journey is the answer.

Are You Kidding Me? A look at my Pet Peeves

 

Photo by Scott Umstattd on Unsplash

We all have a list of things that just really get to us. Whether its leggings as pants or someone's use of "irregardless," there are just some things that drive us batty.

While the overall mission of this blog is to focus on positivity and creating a better life, I thought it would be fun to digress just for a moment and take a deeper look at the things which bug me.

So without further ado, here we go!

Today's Pet Peeves

1.  People who think I am depressed when they read my blog. You know what I am not? A blow sunshine up your ass Pollyanna. If I am that way to you, it's because I don't like, know, and/or trust you.  If  I am sad that my life is totally boring and unaccomplished and I have never done anything great, I am not going to shrug it off with an "It's all good." I am going to be honest about how disappointed and pissed off I am. That said, by expressing the sentiment, I will almost ALWAYS FEEL BETTER. I will have a load taken off me and feel pretty okay. One person said that is why my blog isn't more popular, "It is too depressing." Maybe, maybe... but please don't mistake my honesty about what hurts with my wallowing in pain. If you don't like me, fine. But don't pity me.  I guarantee as soon as I hit publish and get a like or two, my mood has lifted. And if not, I can thoroughly enjoy sadness. If you don't understand that-we are just not kindred spirits.
2.  People who sleep directly on mattresses. Grown adults who sleep directly on $1000 mattresses. Grown adults who smoke and sleep directly on $1000 mattresses without sheets.
3.  People who see me typing and still come into my space uninvited and just start talking.
4.  Almost four year olds who aren't very interested in using the potty. Like, they totally can, you know, they just don't want to be bothered.
5.  Elementary teachers and their hyper-organized holier-than-thou judgmental attitudes. I have worked in elementary schools. I know it's there. No, I don't always check the backpack. At the end of a long, hard day, I don't care what's in the backpack. I'll trust you to do a good job educating, you stop sending home a bazillion papers with a bazillion details about crap. 
6. And on that note, school fundraisers. Not interested. So tired of my kids coming home excited about prizes only the wealthy kids with wealthy friends and huge social networks are going to get. 
7. Dishes. I have just had it with dishes. I mean, I wash them and wash them and the sink just keeps filling again. Maybe I would feel differently if I had working dishwasher. And on that same note: laundry.
8.  Credit cards. Evil little boogers. My life is currently very unpleasant due to overuse of credit cards. The worst part? I could have had the dishwasher and new countertops and this and that for the amount I owe. But the guilt at going out and charging such big expenses was too great. So what did I do? Fritter the credit away on small this and that purchases that didn't wrack up the feeling of guilt, but instead, left me with all the debt and nothing to show for it.

Perfect moments, not perfect planning

 

Photo by Benjamin Voros on Unsplash

Have you been playing the balancing game-trying to give everything and everyone just the right amount of time and attention? I have been thinking about time management lately, and while I  know some schedule out each day, week, month, to perfection-I know this isn't the route for me. 

Schedules vs. Routines

First of all as an INFP (what's that? here's 16personalities description), the word schedule itself makes me a little cranky. I like routines, mind you. A quiet morning coffee in hand, contemplating life and where I stand in it, are just perfect. Every day. Slipping into bed, the perfect amount of lighting in the room, book or ebook in hand, pillows fluffed just right, is perfect every single day. But all that stuff in between? Let's keep it loose. Let's NOT make plans. Let's let it unfold naturally. 

Let It Happen

I don't know how I will feel next Sunday afternoon. How can I possible feel anything but dread if you try to force me into some arbitrary activity outside of my home. That's not to say Aunt Kate's backyard barbeque followed by a trip to Walmart and drive to Branson won't be exactly what I need. But how can I know that now?

I realize I am difficult.

And I have been thinking that maybe for people like me, it is less about perfect balance and more about perfect moments. 

This week I will shower my kids with attention and activities, next week they will play with the neighbor kids and I'll catch up on laundry. Today we have an impromptu game night and whoever can make it makes it. Next week, I'll screen my calls and snuggle in bed with a book and a glass of Cabernet. Perfect moments happen. They can't be planned.

When I discovered my newly remembered love for fiction reading, it changed my focus away from my online shop. And I realized I was done with the shop. Reading has always been a greater passion to me than kids' clothes. Reading changes my soul in a way that trying to earn money cannot. So one was let go and one I continue to pursue.

A Surprising Need for Control

This doesn't mean I am easy-breezy. In fact, I often doubt my INFPness due to my need for control and pickiness. I am not okay with just any background noise (and honestly, silence is golden to me). I can't just let the radio play. I need the right song at the right time, or nothing at all.   In fact, I often think my lack of commitment to future plans has more to do with my need to control the atmosphere by attending to my current mood than any happy-go-lucky easygoingness. And I think people misunderstand that and either steamroll me or think I am being intentionally difficult. I am just being me.

Recap

So, if you are finding you are struggling with finding the right balance or the right schedule or the right PLAN-maybe you are like me. And maybe focusing on your comfort routines and maybe letting your need to attend to your current mood and feelings are what you need in the future (I ALSO easily think I could be an ISFP (description HERE)-despite my lack of artistic prowess-especially when I am healthier and not ruminating on things. I would be totally cool with that, too).

Currently:

Listening  Spotify:

ACOMAF | Feysand| A Court of Mist and Fury | Feyre and Rhysand

Rereading: 

Also reading:

This post contains affiliate links for https://www.amazon.com/

Drinking:

Reusable K-cup mix of Great Value french roast and Creme brule!

Letting Go

Photo by Lubo Minar on Unsplash

I closed my online business today. A few months ago, this would have made me sad, but I feel comfortable. After the last big September push, in which my ads received lots of likes, praise, and views for the items, but only a few sales, I realized it was time to stop. I had been maintaining the online shop for the fun of it, but suddenly-it just stopped being fun. Ironically my organic store views are higher than ever lately, but ultimately it is sales that matter in a business. I always felt just on the brink of breaking out--but then--maybe that's a gambler's intuition, and not business intuition. Just one more day, one more ad, one more instragram push. I am over it. If I had been able to make it profitable, I would keep it up. If there was a chance of it replacing my day job, I would keep it up. But at the end of my life, I want to look back and see written words, lots of written words and self-expression, not an online store run at the expense of my free time with family and writing. The hours I was putting in after my regular job, just weren't worth the money I wasn't getting back anyway. But it was fun.

 It's a beautiful fall day. I love Wednesdays working at home. It's my lunch break now. I will be so sad when we go back to all-week learning. This break from forced extroversion is exactly what my aging body craves mid-week. The truth is, I started letting go a month ago. When I decided to obsess over books rather than searching for items to sell. And after just one last fight with my husband over advertising costs, I figured, enough is enough. And I feel good.