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The rambly fifteen, #18.
Fifteen minutes straight writing…begin…right…now.
Tonight’s #dsma was intruded upon by a Paleo fanatic perpetuating myths about T2 diabetes and carb intake and remission and shit. So not cool. (At least he didn’t say the “c” word – cure, right? Ugh.)
A couple things I later tweeted:
Extremists in food philosophy can bite me. Respect my choices that bring me health, I’ll respect yours.
Don’t pay attention to what others say you should/shouldn’t eat. Everyone has to decide for themselves (Paleo, vegetarian, vegan, etc etc).
Off healthy eating soapbox.
***
At a crossroads. Lots of decisions need to be made in the next few weeks. Dealing with it in the usual Rachel way – procrastinating by focusing on less meaningful stuff. Okay, so reading isn’t meaningless, it just distracts me from what I need to be doing.
Insomnia is back, which doesn’t help. (Maybe because I’m procrastinating on big decisions? Or did I get mildly addicted to Benadryl after two weeks of hive control?)
My family is awesome. I used to have a hard time saying that, but the birthday cards this year? All around, perfect. Gives me a little push out of the procrastination.
Especially the words of my sister’s card (from Carlton Cards):
“Believe in the power of wishes, hopes, and hugs. That small things can be mighty, and big ideas can be reality. That anything is possible. And most of all… Believe in yourself. I know I do. You’re a great sister, and I hope this year is really happy for you.”
(Of course, drawings from two-and-a-half-year-olds warm the heart, too.)
Weekly Grace, #14.
(courtesy Schmutzie‘s Grace in Small Things)
- Writing (crappy) poetry.
- Stopping in at the old job for a few minutes to see familiar faces.
- Only an hour stuck with a renewal at the DMV. (With interesting people-watching, including a surprise treat of a verbal altercation.)
- Treating myself to a massage for my birthday.
- Sushi! (for the first time since July.)
The rambly fifteen, #17.
Fifteen minutes straight writing…begin…right…now.
I had more to say last week. To write, to explore. Not much this week, and so begins another edition of “the rambly fifteen”.
Watching the D-1 women’s basketball championship. Kind of hoping for a Notre Dame upset, which is a strange concept. The part about wanting Notre Dame to win, I mean.
There’s some study out this week that says 33 is the perfect age for happiness. Ha. Other than my twin nieces being born, 33 was a pretty rough year. A major health scare of another family member, my own emergency open abdominal surgery and a five-day hospital stay, then finding out that my reproductive system was/is a hot mess and knowing I’d need another open surgery to clean up what couldn’t be done during the first one.
That being said, I am holding out hope that 36 is a great year when I turn that age in a mere six days. That it will be the year of awesome. I deserve that after a few years of suck. Right?
I wrote some crappy poetry tonight amidst the pizza-and-wine routine I partake in every week or two. What can I say, National Poetry Month brings out the crappy poet in me.
I wrote some crappy poetry, and I’m writing this rambly blog post. When I should be working on my résumé. Getting some cold feet about such a big move, though. Which makes me wonder about those hives being stress-related.
After a week of those hives, I think the itching and scratching is finally over now that none of that has happened for 48 hours. Avoidance of ibuprofen is now of utmost importance until I can confirm with an allergist. Or dermatologist. Not sure which I should see when I am ready to confirm that sort of information. Again, it could all be stress-related.
Snow is over and spring will return tomorrow. As a friend said, I see the snow as flame-retardant against wildfires…
Weekly Grace, #13.
(courtesy Schmutzie‘s Grace in Small Things)
- Cheesy cauliflower.
- Wearing sandals in March (in spite of feet not-quite-ready-for-sandals-weather).
- Thrifting.
- Movies without happily-ever-after endings.
- Benadryl and Eucerin Calming Itch-Relief Treatment.
Choosing a little happy.
I am not an expert in happy.
I know cranky. I know sad. I know dark and twisty.
Don’t get me wrong. I also know laughter, I also know smiles, I also know hugs and kisses.
But I am just not an expert in happy. I can recall memories where I recognized being so very happy and where shit started feeling right, and then it seemed that the happy all evaporated so very quickly.
The past few days, I noticed more than ever how all that negativity affects my body, affects my interactions with others, affects my life. Reintroducing an exercise routine has lifted a mood that was extremely dark and twisty this past winter, and now I notice how down and out I come off to others both on- and off-line.
Realizing that you have spent the vast majority of almost 36 years on the opposite side of happiness could be depressing. Someone might take a look at what my life looks like at the present, what it has looked like the past couple years, and say, no wonder you have been depressed.
The clouds are lifting, and I am choosing to be optimistic, even though life is still unsettled and uncertain. Things are going to get good, things that will bring happiness. I am not afraid to believe it, I am not afraid that things will collapse like they always have.
I do not have to be an expert in happy, but I do need to laugh more, smile more, give and receive more hugs and kisses.
(And when I start feeling like crap and turn pessimistic, I will force myself to read this post over and over until I start to feel the clouds lift again.)
Wordless Wednesday.
(From Saturday’s hike in Southwest Boulder. Click to see the high resolution photo and there are specks of snow left in the upper left hand corner.)
OH, she’s fourteen.
Miss O.H.,
Back in the spring semester of 1998, I strategically placed my classes to avoid Fridays, as most graduating seniors tend to do in college. That meant Thursdays were bogged down with classes.
However, I will never forget returning from the long day of classes on the first Thursday after spring break. There, on the voice mail, was your mother letting me know you finally arrived, at home, of all places. I noted the distinct difference in her voice after giving birth to you in her place of comfort as opposed to what I heard following your brother’s birth in the hospital a few years earlier. It made me smile and ended up making you special in your own way amongst all my nephews and nieces.
A couple days later, I saw you for the first time, with that full head of hair!
Speaking of hair, do you remember giving me a “fancy hairdo” that week I spent watching you and your brother? I am so very glad I got that chance to spend some time with you, as I missed out on so much before and since. (That will change soon, I promise.)
Even if you choose something else in the future, I am delighted that you have stayed as interested in science as long as you have. Despite being quite a few years younger than your mom, not many girls my age pursued heavy science and even though I tried, I could not keep up. I cannot wait to see what your generation produces as far as that goes. It is totally okay if you end up doing something else, because I know you will still always have an open, curious mind.
Love,
Aunt Rachel
