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a thanksgiving list

23 Nov

Here is a Thanksgiving list of ten of my favorite things in no particular order, maybe:

10. Watercolor. I’ve been painting a lot lately. I have an Etsy shop now, and I’ve made four sales! If I decide to sell it, my November work will be listed some time next month. Though it flatters me to be commissioned, it’s not one of my favorite things. The pressure of specific peoples’ expectations is tremendous!

9. Fall. I love Fall. Winter used to be my favorite season, but I realize now that Fall is so much better. It’s all the buildup of the Christmas season and none of the letdown. New Year’s Day is probably the most depressing holiday.

8. Netflix. TV with no commercials is my favorite kind of TV. It bugs me that I can’t catch the next season of Showtime’s Homeland on Netflix and that it only has the first season of Jane the Virgin, but in two days the world will be blessed with four more extra long episodes of Gilmore Girls, and that makes up for a lot. Also, I’m noticing that all of my favorite things so far have ended with a slightly negative comment, but I have to share now that I’ve been having, like, real anxiety about the new Gilmore Girls. First, it’s going to end. Again. Second, it will be different. It has to be, right? And I’m worried it will feel different and I’ll feel separate from it. A separate I’ve never felt with them before. Ugh. But I’m still mostly excited.

7. The Internet. I wish that the Internet was what it is now when I was in high school. I feel like I could have been better. With today’s Internet then, I could have cared less about being liked. I mean, I still would have cared, but it wouldn’t be so bad if I felt disliked, because there would have been a lot of people online who thought I was cool for it, I think. If they were there when I was in high school, there was still too big a chance they were Internet creepos Degrassi taught me to avoid.

6. Bubble Tea. Boba is good. I probably drink/eat too much of it. Bubble tea has been my special treat for, like, two years straight. Maybe three. We should get together some time and spend approximately fifteen minutes chatting over boba, kay?

5. My church. I like my church a lot. I feel like I could spend more time there than I do. It’s pretty much Christmastime, and it’s always so beautiful then. There’s always something more I could be doing to get involved and be closer to God, in general. That’s all.

4. Date nights! Daniel and I had the most amazing date last weekend. Time alone together now is extremely rare, so it is so wonderful when we get it and can truly connect. Also, the food was so good AND we got bubble tea after.

3. People. Sort of. I know most of the time it seems I’m trying to avoid them, and I am, but there are a small few I actually really like. I cancel plans, take too long to reply to text messages, and I’m a terrible friend. Still, these are the people in my life with whom I feel pretty close.

2. Milo. You know. He knows.

1. Daniel, duh. He’s so patient and kind and loving when I’m too often terse and annoyed. It is not lost on me how incredibly lucky I am to have been married to this man for three years!

 

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look

16 Mar

When I was younger and intentionally fascinated with things that would make my mother cringe, I would take her old sewing needles and thread them through a thin layer of skin on my fingers and tell her to look.

weekends like this

15 Mar

The sun has already set on our weekend. Daniel’s working on his computer next to me, and Zuko is pawing around our desk trying to make us notice her. Along with a cool March breeze, shouts and laughter from the kids in the pool downstairs travel through our open jalousies. Dinner is ready, cooling on the stove top, and I’m tired. It’ll be another long week, but if I can expect weekends like this to follow, I think I’ll be okay.

but we didn’t have pie

14 Mar

imageMy night, basically.

lows in the sixties

8 Mar

My phone always says it’s 76 degrees out, but it’s not. Today the temperature was in the sixties, and I could hardly handle the cold. After church, Daniel and I spent the rest of the day on the Windward side hanging out with family. I found a thick pair of socks in my old bedroom so I put those on, and when my brother’s friend mandated Family Game Time, we played two rounds of The Game of Things and laughed a lot about “lizard sandwich”.

We’re home now, and the cat missed us. So when I’m done with this, she’ll probably tell me about her day and agree that it’s time for bed.

just not completely terrible

4 Mar

Daniel took me out for pho last night, and it was delicious and wonderful and just what I needed. We came home to the Ultimate Couch Bed we made last weekend when we rented Gone Girl (brilliant, perfect, amazing, love love love) and watched an episode of Fixer Upper on HGTV before crawling into bed and balancing body temperatures. I’m hesitant to say that today was good, because I know how quickly it can still turn awful. For the most part, my hair was cooperative. Not fancy or beautiful by any means, just not completely terrible, which I consider a win. I can breathe through both my nostrils today, and I feel more awake than I’ve felt all week. Maybe the cold has passed. I celebrated with a $3 bag of li hing gummy bears to eat at my desk with chopsticks and some music while I reconciled month-end reports for work with all the colored highlighters Buffalo bequeathed me when she left. I saw Wolf today wearing that sweater I said was nice, and he was kind, helpful, and much appreciated. I guess it’s pretty safe to say that today was definitely not bad. For dinner, Daniel and I are making something chicken cacciatore-ish. Except for that one time when we had only three ingredients and it tasted dreadful, it usually turns out pretty good. Mom always said I needed to help in the kitchen to learn how to cook. I don’t think I was ever much help, but I watched her, and I learned from her, and I’m not so great at following recipes now either, but I think it tastes okay!

better to be safe

27 Feb

Read Part 1
Read Part 2

He poured a cup of coffee and pushed it across the table for me. He sat down with his and stared.

“Pete,” I said, calmly, apologetically patronizing. I ran my finger over the rim of my mug, and Peter continued to stare. He usually hated when I did that, but he didn’t flinch. He was afraid of germs, of bacteria from our hands killing us through our mouths. He was afraid of radiation from the microwave. When heating food, he’d stand a good ten feet away until the third beep signaling its time was up. Better to be safe, he’d say. He was afraid of becoming Jeff who was happy and kind and passionate, who had big dreams, and left his family in pursuit of them.

“I don’t actually hate you, Pete.”

He nodded, because he knew. He sipped his coffee, waiting for more.

“And I never wanted you dead,” I said. “You know that, too.”

He looked at me for the first time all day. His eyes, somehow, almost smiling. Peter wasn’t happy. That had been clear for a while. He made sure to stay consistently low, always most deserving, in the room, of praise or pity, either suiting him just fine. Two days ago, he accepted a part-time job at Abby’s school when the counselor went into labor seven weeks early. “They were in a bind,” he said. “What was I supposed to do?” I drank my coffee and smiled back at Peter, content now that I seemed fine, that his family was under the roof of the home he’d provided through his successes at the firm. Upstairs, Abby’s bedroom door opened. Little feet bounded toward us, and stopped just short of an inch from mine. She brought my ear to her mouth and whispered, “Daddy loves you.”