Showing posts from March, 2013

Wearing my heart on my sleeve

Four years and two weeks ago, I wrote a blog post that contained the good-bye email I wrote to my coworkers on the occasion of my last day of work. I was pretty proud of that note, which was quite hard to write as it reflected almost 13 years of being with one company, which is pretty rare in this century. I reread that note this morning to remind myself of what I had said, as that time feels like a lifetime ago. One sentence struck me: I am not sure where I will go from here or what I will do (although I fear cooking will be part of my immediate future), but I like to think onward and upward. I really had no idea what it was I was going to do or how long I would be without steady employment. Never did I suspect I would more or less be a SAHM who subbed and freelanced on occasion (sometimes the subbing and freelancing were often; other times I could go weeks without working). But here I am, just over four years later, getting ready to head back to steady employment.
On M…

Interactions and relationships

Yesterday, I nearly finished a lengthy blog post, but then decided against posting it because it was focused on things that made me sad, which is going against the way I am trying to be. Then I took one piece of that post, and worked on that a bit, but that topic was too distressing. Last evening, as I was reading some article about a prison guard being attacked, I thought about writing a more lighthearted post about jobs I would never want to have. But I never actually put fingers to keyboard. So this morning, after being awake way too early, I decided to write about something more personal but hopefully not so negative: friendly relationships

I am grateful that I have a handful or more of "true" friends who I know like (or at least accept) me for who I am, with all my faults and quirks, and whom I can trust. If I had only one or two of these people in my life, I would be luckily, but (yeah me!) I have more. Next there are those who although might not be the people I can …

Man versus woman

Before I launch into this post (and I am not entirely sure where it will go, but it will need to happen in about 20 minutes because I have lunch duty), let me begin by saying my hubby is pretty darn good as far as hubbies and daddies go. He cooks for us almost every day. Considering how much I love to eat, he could do little else but that, and it would not matter too much to me. [Note that a few years ago, I cooked for the family but was "fired" after a week or several. No one appreciated what I thought tasted good.]

He also keeps the "mechanics" of the house running. He has black-topped the driveway, mixed cement to fix our crumbling steps, and planted grass. He moves heavy stuff around, figures out some electrical things, and when I fail at toilet unclogging, he helps me there too.

Unlike a lot of dads, he spends time with his kid (though, he will be the first to admit not nearly what I spend with her), and is happy to help out with physical projects and certain…

Not there yet (but it is the journey)

As I do most Lents, I gave up sweets this year. As also happens most Lents, I have failed a few times. One of the few exceptions was Lent of 2002, when I was super workout girl, spending six and sometimes seven evenings a week at the gym doing various forms of cardio and lifting weights. I was in fantastic shape. I had low body fat. I could do 25 pushups (I just checked and I can do almost seven now). And I was eating pretty well. As hard as it was to put nothing sweet in my mouth for about 46 days (or however long Lent lasts when you count Sundays), the thought of keeping my newly lost weight off was a great motivator.

This year I did pretty well until this past Tuesday, when I was at the funeral luncheon for my little brother's MIL. Once I screwed up there, I continued down the bad path and had "dirt" two days later at the after-school program where I volunteer. I followed that up two days later with a Twix candy bar, which I practically inhaled during the intermission…

I think it's about forgiveness...

I have been thinking about forgiveness lately. I know some other bloggers have blogged about it (I forget which ones; I read too many), and I have commented on various posts. I also have discussed the topic with friends and family as of late. So it was fitting that forgiveness and reconciliation were the topics in yesterday's church reflections group I often attend.

For years I used to think you could not forgive someone unless that person said he was sorry and truly meant it. Many people can do the former but not really mean it. And then one can be sincere in his apology, but continue to do the same things over and over. As a result, I had trouble forgiving some people for their wrongdoings.

Over the years, and particularly in the past year, I have come to realize that sometimes we must forgive others for our well-being; it may not have anything to do with what they have said or (failed to say), but rather how we feel.

According to Psych Central, forgiveness is letting go of the nee…

If I were in charge, everyone would go in late today.

I like Daylight Saving Time just as much as the next person. It is nice that it is still a little light out at almost 7:30 p.m. And the time change also means I can stay at my mom's later during our biweekly visits as I now get to have at least some daylight to more easily spot those deer and other critters. But getting up the first work/school day of DST is no picnic.

Hubby and I argued about this, this morning. He insisted whatever effects there are/were should have occurred on Sunday, the first morning of DST. I disagreed because I woke up Sunday when I woke up; I paid no attention to the clock. I got about eight hours of sleep, which is what I usually get on the weekends (assuming I am not beset with insomnia), so my body had no idea an hour disappeared. In fact, I felt "normal" all day Sunday, quite happy, actually, because it was sunny and in the mid 60s. The only downside of DST that day was that I forgot to change my car clock, so after being out with my mom and …

What, me worry?!

Although I don't like creepy, crawly things, I am not afraid of them and am perfectly able to kill them when I see them. I like the dark, heights don't bother me too much (though I don't love them), and ghosts don't concern me (not sure if they are real, but have not ruled them out either). So what worries me and sometimes keeps me awake at night (or infiltrates me dreams)?

This first one is really, really strange, and kind of gross: overflowing toilets. This goes back to a time when I was in high school, and upon flushing the toilet in the "big bathroom" of our house, the water starting pouring over the seat. I freaked out! I can still picture it happening and my subsequent panicking as water flowed onto the floor. I don't recall who was at home who came to my rescue and, presumably, turned the water off. What I do recall is being afraid to flush the toilet when I was home alone after that for weeks if not longer. Fortunately, I have never overflowed a …

Bluz indirectly reminded me of this (my blogiversary)

One of my favorite blogger friends, Bluz, over at Darwinfish 2, recently posted about his four-year blogiversary. I recall thinking at some point in either December or January that January 2008 was when I started this blog, but, surprise, surprise, I forgot about it when the actual time came. Regardless, five years is a long time to be doing something like this, for me, anyway, so I do want to acknowledge it. Yeah, me!

My original intent for this blog was to post things about my kid, mostly pictures, so my brothers and their families would be able to keep up with us. Because they live too far away! But right from the get-go, my first post had very little to do with the kid, other than I posted a picture of her and the dog (I cannot believe how little my J looks in that pic). That post was a bit disjointed and lacking focus. The next one I titled "True Ramblings," yet it actually was not all that rambling (unlike many of my subsequent posts). Worth noting is I did not capital…