Sunday, February 27, 2011

comes the sun

I keep a notebook by my bed. A big, chunky spiral one. Each night before I go to sleep, I write down, in list form, what was good for the day.

Some days the list is long. Some days, it's shorter.

Some days there are big things, like "my niece was born" or "saw U2 in concert."

Some days, the list contains minor things, like "sweet potato pear soup at my favorite cafe" or "good hair day."

But lately, it's been difficult to make a list at all. These past few months... They've been hard.

Some days lately I just write "breathing." Because, if nothing else, all day long, I was breathing.

And I was thinking this morning that I am really ready for February to be over, because it really has sucked.

But when I walked in the door from my run, Hubby says that my sister is on the answering machine and wants me to call her. So I play the message. "Call me right away when you get this." And I know that something is wrong.

So I call.

And she says that Dad was in an accident. He's four states away. The car is totaled. He is fine.

I didn't really, fully start breathing again until I talked to him a few hours later. Heard his voice. Four states away. Very sore. Not going to be home for a few more days. But fine.

And the world snapped into perspective.

It has, in fact, been a long, cold, lonely winter.

But it's alright.

Tonight I get to list that I am breathing. And that my Dad is breathing, too.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

you capture - the letter L

So Hubby says one day, a few weeks ago, that he entered a drawing to see Sting (his man-crush) in a private concert. And it's just for the tickets, we'd have to pay for the rest (the hotel and the food and such). But the concert's location is not really far away. And he won't get them anyway. So it really doesn't matter.

And then, a few days latter, he received an email that started with "Congratulations!"

He won.

And, let me tell you, a private concert is the way to go. It was at a super small, beautiful old theater. In the gorgeous lobby, with the ornate chandeliers and hand-painted wall murals, were banquet tables piled with food. And a fully stocked bar. And feel free to help yourself to as much as you'd like. It's all free.

And then head on in to the actual theater (you can take your food and drinks with you) because Sting is going to play for a few hours. And his band will include Hubby's favorite drummer (Hubby is a drummer, himself). He'll play lots of Police, but also lots of Sting-different-time-signature songs, so everyone (at least Hubby and I) will be happy.

Oh, Hubby was in Heaven.

It was definitely, most definitely, cool.

PS - L is for lights.


see more at Beth's

Sunday, February 20, 2011

gotta get away

Hubby and I took off this weekend. We went away. Far enough away that we needed a hotel. Three days worth of away.

Of course, we went to a pest hole. Entire blocks of vacant buildings. Random vehicles with sirens wailing driving around with no real purpose at all hours. And I might have been hit on/accosted by a homeless man. In the "nice" part of town. But still. It was away.

This was our gourmet dinner. And we were stupidly lucky to find it. We were just about to give up looking for someplace to eat, and maybe even drive back to the toll road rest stop Panera. But God had mercy on us, and plunked a Jimmy John's down, right in the midst of the pest hole.

This? This was a downright, absolute, I might have shed a tear, miracle.


I also got to see this.

It's one of the cars used on U2's Zoo TV tour. (Duh.) And I got to see U23D again. And lots of other bits of music history on display.

And the real reason for the whole trip?

Hubby won tickets to a private Sting concert. As in Sting. His man-crush. My husband-in-law.

Kinda made it worth three days in a pest hole.

(PS - more later...)

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

you capture - warm

"Stressed spelled backwards is desserts. Coincidence? I think not."
- Anonymous


see more at Beth's

Sunday, February 13, 2011

big lady pants

Saturday started out so good.

I ran. I ate honey glazed carrot soup at one of my favorite restaurants. I was having a good hair day. I hung out with Hubby. I took pictures of my sister's family. And ice.

And then I went to Target, and it all unraveled.

Because I had to try on pants.

Which meant that I was alone. In a locked cubicle. With nothing but harsh lighting and the truth.

(Just an aside... Why do they make the lighting in dressing rooms so harsh? You'd think they'd want you to think you look at good as possible. Like, just before I was at Target, I'd been at Starbucks. And in the Starbucks bathroom, I really thought to myself - and I'm not even kidding - that I looked okay. Then I got to the Target dressing room and was proven horribly wrong. Maybe the dressing room making people should get together with the Starbucks bathroom people. Anyway...)

You might have heard me weeping.

It was not pretty.

Perhaps if I had not eaten my way though January, or at least moved a little bit more in January in between the eating, it wouldn't have been so bad.

But I ate. And I did not move. And it is bad. Worse than it's been in quite awhile.

(And I know why I'm eating. It's not a mystery to me. I knew deep down even before the Glamour magazine epiphany I had on Tuesday. {I hate it when my epiphanies come from Glamour magazine.} It has to do with unhappiness and situations that I can't change right now. But still.)

I did wind up buying two pairs of pants. I mean, I can't not have pants. And they are cute pants. But I kind of don't like them, just on principle.


I was supposed to run a 5k today. I was registered and everything.

I woke up this morning and decided not to go.

I knew the course was hilly. I knew I wasn't ready for hilly.

I knew that it would take me a long time.

And I knew I couldn't handle humiliation today. Especially after the dressing room trauma.

So I set the ipod at Prince and went on my own run.

And Prince? He helped me.

I truly believe that Prince likes me just how I am. All those references to big ol' hips and big ol' booties can't be a coincidence.

Maybe I really, really don't like me right now.

But Prince? I think he's good with it.

And for an hours worth of run, I was actually okay with it, too.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

you capture - cold

"Cold is the color of crystal, the snowlight that falls from the heavenly sky."

Annie Lennox, Cold


see more at Beth's

Sunday, February 6, 2011

list time, home edition

1. Hubby and I are, apparently, becoming old. We needed a new bed frame. One that had a little more support in the middle of the bed; one that helped the mattress to not sag in the middle; one that offered a little more back support. So, Hubby started researching, and this is what he found:

This bed frame is 7 inches off the ground. I am just a hair over 5 feet 1 inch tall. This frame makes the bed come almost to my waist when I stand next to it. This bed frame gives whole new meaning to the phrase "climb into bed." But it really has some great back support.

2. I love Target. I really do. But the Target brand ziploc bags? They suck. I cannot get them to close. Hubby cannot get them to close. So I went and bought some non-Target brand ziploc bags. They close just fine.

3. I know this picture is a bit blurry. It was taken very early in the morning, and I guess this is how I see things in the morning. But... Look at how many pillows are on this couch. Why is this necessary? What happens out here after I go to bed? Do I want to know? And why did I never before notice that there are 4 million pillows sitting on my couch? I guess I don't sit down very much.

4. I did note the irony today as I was packing away the snowmen while it was snowing, with about 3 feet of snow already on the ground. But I was sick of the snowmen. So they had to go.

5. Should I have bought this stupidly cute, stupidly expensive, winking owl cookie jar? No.
Do I regret buying this stupidly cute, stupidly expensive, winking owl cookie jar? No.

6. I insisted upon buying this and hanging it on the wall:
I think it's good to have a daily reminder.

7. Sometimes I just really like to be home all by myself and jam a little Bob Seger while I put away laundry and do dishes.

8. The overhaul of the meditation room was a smashing success. It is more open, more functional, more calming. And now there is a beautiful, simple, comfortable chair and ottoman where I can sit and read and drink tea.

9. That book, Moon Over Manifest, won the Newberry Award this year. And it totally deserved it. It is the best book I've read in a long time. (I guess that's only marginally home related, but oh well.)

10. I tend to like Yogi Tea, mostly because they have little sayings on the tags of their tea bags. Today I had the very best Yogi Tea saying ever:

We are spiritual beings having a human experience.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

you capture - red

Apparently, I will buy whatever Bono says to buy. (But I do feel better knowing that my money is actually doing some good...)


see more at Beth's