Saturday, September 28, 2013

this morning, this week, this month...

I woke up with my head full of horrible dreams, clogged up and stopped up ears, and feathered hair.

If only this were the 80s...the early 80s then maybe I would be rocking this feathered hair. No amount of coaxing, brushing, or gel-ing seems to work and I am far too lazy to soak my head and wait for it to dry and/or hunt down a hair dryer and do as a normal gal would.

Feathered hair it is. Methinks I will spend the day listening to The Runaways and Suzi Quatro...I mean, I would if I could find which box of cds they are in. CDs? CDs, you ask? Why yes, I am neither a girlie girl nor a person of this new tech-age for my ipod, my ancient third generation ipod has finally bit the dust and my uber cheap, pay-as-you-go trac phone does not play music. I have taken to listening to my old Nervousness swap mix cds in the's fun and kinda like a jukebox.

Not that I don't want an ipod or touch or smartphone...I just can't justify the cost or afford the monthly payments on a new phone. I am still in wanting of a new camera lens and shoes that don't make my feet hurt. In the scheme of things in my and a new camera lens are more important than portable tunes and a camera phone. Though golly, how much fun would it be to be able to hunt down any theme-worthy music for the kiddos at the school to go along with group time and how ice would it be for me to NOT knock my camera into yet another three-year-old's noggin?

For now, I wait and frugalize things even more than I have save for this week's thrifting excursion that ended in two stores, forty-bucks spent and the acquisition of two vintage books with nifty covers (photo propping), a jar of lavender buds (sensory binning), three wooden bowls (nature table), two gauzy summer tops (it's been HOT), three happy-cheery tops for cutting up (sweet november is fast approaching), five nicely name branded long-sleeves in anticipation of cooler weather (j.jill, banana republic, ann taylor...), and a slightly mothy cashmere wrap.

I would really, really like to wear that cashmere wrap....

It's still warm here...for us at least. Regular temps in the 80s with a smattering of 90s. We also have wind. Lovely pollen-carrying wind. I fear I will never be able to go outside again. I should really go outside. My legs need to walk and lungs do as well so I stay inside. My head is full, full, full of allergy gunk but not nearly as awful as it has been. I cannot think of the culprit this time around other than unpacking which is still a long, long way from the finish line. The heat combined with the allergies and the lack of shelf space for planning, along with my new work schedule and crazy exhaustion when I get home is not conducive to unpacking. Neither is my new back pain which could be from wee bodies throwing themselves atop me or it could be a dreaded kidney stone. I'm hoping for the general pain of thirty-pounds of energy jumping on top of me. Just in case, I am monitoring pain and drinking so very much water. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.

It's crazy how quickly this month has flown by and how busy I have been and how little I seem to have accomplished. While the mister has been digging up the back lawn and building me shelves, all I have managed is to complete lesson plans, feed the three of us and keep myself from a full blown-over-the-top allergy attack....cough, sniff, wheeze! Though if this doesn't clear up soon I will be popping some pills for it Crossing fingers it all goes away...and soon!

Sunday, September 22, 2013

happy fall!

It's officially fall and yet our summer temps keep popping up here on the coast. Today however, was beautiful. An overcast morning with a cool breeze, just about perfect if not for all the pollen that blows in along with the wind. My head is so congested I am a cranky mess. Darn pollen. Just like the old days my ears are packedy packed with mawd knows what and my poor bronchial tubes have an errant group of ravers mucking up the place.
So rather than wrap myself up in a soft blanket to sit on the sofa with, I have been moping about the homestead in an old t-shirt and patchy jeans. Instead of cozying up with a cup of pumpkin spiced something I have been guzzling water and leaving a trail of tissue all over the case I can't find my way to the bedroom. Instead of going outside and taking deep gulps of that crispish (at least in the morning) fall air I have been lollying about on the not-made-up bed alternating between a cheesy romance reed and a marathon run of candy crush, papa-whats-it-callit, and farm heroes crappity crap.
It's the first day of fall and all I have managed to do in honor of the day is to bust open a bag of pumpkin spice m&ms...a flavor wrapped up in scent that I and my anosmic-self cannot appreciate.
I try...though...I really do. Happy Fall (or Spring if yer down-under)!

Friday, September 20, 2013

with a cluck, cluck here....

In the house (er...condo) I grew up in, we were big mug users. I drank cocoa, tea, milk, ovaltine, and/or juice either from one of my mother's mugs or one of those mawd-awful plastic dollar-days tumblers that were all over the place in the 80s. I write "mother's mugs" as I had always assumed the assortment of mugs that dangled from the accordion rack to the left of the sink was a collection of sorts and that they were more specifically, my mother's collection. One of her many collections...dolls...thimbles...tea cups...plants...there were a lot of collections. Now you know where I get it from.

One of the first things I wanted for the now-defunct (new) tiny casa was an accordion rack just like my mamos' to hang my wee collection of vintage mugs from. My goal was to acquire an assortment of chicken mugs to clutch together on the hook and coo to their hearts content. The acquisition of said rack took a few weeks (thrifting with a goal is always fun) and maybe a few squabbles with the mister but success was had. Not only did I find one rack, but I found two. The first rack had knobs that were too big (that sounds a little dirty...eeps!) but the second rack was just right. Actually it was perfect as the color was a most delightful shade of curry yellow and no painting needed to be done. Al I needed was a few more chicken mugs to accompany my first one gifted to me by a most favorite person.

So every thrift visit had me searching, searching, searching the toppling towers of kitschy mugs for the one gem that featured a hen or rooster or chick. Sadly, my thrifting mojo only ever conjured a single cluck but etsy twice made me happy and then target once with a delightful Good Morning mug...and then finally, after a visit or two to a few local shops I had a small coop fairly full...eight out of ten ain't bad.

Figures it took me until the last week in the now defunct (tiny) casa but at least I got the pictures to prove it!

Goodbye happy rack of mugs...

Thursday, September 12, 2013

oh geeze...

and eegads!

It seems my last post may have fallen victim to TLDR (too long didn't read). What I meant as a post about understanding the culture of self and adapting to the other somehow lent itself to a bit of wonkiness in our wedded bliss. Along with a few comments there were a handful of worried emails agreeing that marriage was hard and all that jazz and what I want to clarify is that I'm sorry if my long and windy rambling had you worried so. And thank you for your concern but things in a-go-go land are puttering along with dizzy bits, dancing spells, confusing conversations, hip checks and lots of laughing. We're good and sometimes grumpy as I suppose most all of us are.


My rant was mostly the culmination of too many people expecting me to accommodate them without them accommodating me. I had had it up to here and exploded all over blog land. Sheesh! I don't like games and hints and clues, come right out and tell me and we'll move forward. Also, if you REALLY need to contact me stop leaving passive aggressive messages on my FB and phone and just email me already. Capisce? (can you tell I'm still cranky about it all)

The new job has been keeping me terribly busy and ridiculously joyful. And no...I have yet to tackle that darn front room painted all pale pink just for moi. It's a mess. I'm afraid it is even more a mess than it was then days ago. I have also misplaced some asthma meds and I have just about driven the mister up the wall with the search. So far...I have found doll parts, thrifted black paper placemats, ruffle bottomed skivvies, yarn, yarn, and more yarn, and the bag that held all the tchotchkes from Rodney back in 2012.

My wheezing has been on again off again which is why I need to find those meds. Also can I tell you how batty my eyebrows are driving me? I'm no good at making them pretty and it has been so long since they were that I dropped everything that needed doing on my first day off and hightailed it to my favorite brow place only to find it had closed. Waaaaaaah! It was a great $10 walk in place ad all the gals did a nifty job and now I need to find a fancy pants stylist and pay $30 to tame these Brooke Shields wannabes. Other than work, wheeziness, eyebrow stress and not unpacking, I may have immersed myself in a cheesy series of romance novels and I may be on the last in the series and I may be in search of some new reads so if you have any recommendations let me know! I read all sorts of stuff.

We've had constant warm temps up here and now that the days are a leetle bit shorter I find myself wanting to wear sweaters and scarves only it is too warm for that. Shoot. I also really need to get that room organized and a zillion other boxes unpacked so the mister can have his garage back. All I really want to do is make stuff...and read...and bake but I need to get that room finished so that I CAN do all that stuffity stuff. In the meantime there is pom pom making and family dinner fun and preschool fun....

It's all good...really...lookie all the fun things that have happened since...end of summer picnic seaside, weekend crafty gathering, cucumber and tomato sandwiches, not making the bed, and jazzing up my classroom thanks to a pile of tissue and many small hands!

Monday, September 02, 2013

still unpacking {with bonus rant}

and it is driving us a-go-gos crazy. is driving the mister crazy but he will say it isn't. I suppose it really isn't but it certainly does cause a lot of strife between us. I'm sure this is not uncommon. See...I am a magpie, he is a raven. I like pretty things, he likes useful things. I have a lot of stuffity-stuff of questionable use. The mister has a lot of useful stuffity-stuff. I like my stuff, he does not and while I'm pretty easy going about other people's stuff, the mister often feels the need to remind me of the uselessness of mine. This may sound harsh and while I agree that much of my stuff is showy and not useful, I cannot help but wallow in irritation until I explode and that is never fun. Makes for two cranky a-go-gos at a cultural crossroad.
Let's see if I can unwrap the thoughts in my head about an individual's culture. I'm not talking about ethnicity or social-economical status. I'm talking about the culture of self, of you. We can compare it to temperament and personality but it is more than that. We are the sum of our parts and many of those parts were picked up along the way from infancy to this morning.
I come from a family of collectors and artists. We see things that interest us and we acquire them, display them, collect them, and make them. The mister comes from a family of farmers and engineers. They see problems and fix them. They do not waste minutes and they are most certainly clever, productive, and ridiculously smart. Put us in a room together and it is definitely interesting but put us in a living situation and there is a lot of negotiation that happens.

"You knew the job was dangerous when you took it."

Have you read that before on the blogg-o? This is a phrase that the mister and I use when we are frustrated with one another. We knew what we were getting into and we can't complain. It is a reminder. He knows I have stuff and I know that he simply cannot enjoy a pajama morning.
Back to the culture of self. I grew up with little parental guidance. In many instances I was the caregiver to my mother. In grade school, I got myself up and ready for school and made sure my mother had her tea, a little food and her meds before I headed out the door (we're talking age 7 and up). I lived on the third floor and learned how to tread lightly and move quietly as the downstairs neighbor was prone to complaints and my mother was often too sick to be up an about. What this has resulted in is a preference for quiet and solitude, a light foot, and a bit of mothering on my part. It also means that you let someone finish their nap or their sleep and you do not wake them unless they asked you to (this caused an ENORMOUS fight many many moons ago between myself and a suitor, it was bad and I wish I could forget it, grrr). The mister's family is close and for the most part they all grew up pretty healthy. No one needed naps or mothering and I have yet been unable to hear the mister in the morning. This is not an issue, just an observation. How a tiny bit of your childhood household influences your later preferences.
This goes back to why we do the things we do and why we prefer the things we prefer. I'm a last minuter. I'm pretty sure this is because I was not instilled with a make hay while the sun still shines attitude. I can have all the time in the world to get something done and yet I can't seem to get to it until I have no more time left save for an hour before it is due. The mister, however, hits the task as soon as it is handed out. I get this and I roll with it and I troubleshoot and attempt to "do better" next time and I am grateful the mister works the way he does. What I don't do is attempt to change him or belittle his behaviors. I try to apply this with everyone I know. In my head I think this is how so-and-so works, I need to remember this so that I can meet them in the middle. I may not like the way someone does something but the thing is, it doesn't matter what I like, it is THEIR behavior, THEIR life. Once I figure out how best to harmonize with that person I do. It is not a problem until they or you make it a problem.
Here is what I mean. I used to have a friend that I adored. I still adore them but had to step far far away from them. I figured out how to meet their needs on their terms and did my best to do so. We would get together and I would be the ear they so needed to share with. Did they share loud and often. It became so that I could not get a smidge of a word in and for awhile I realized that this is how it was as I adored this person. But then grandma died and my infertility was diagnosed and I had one enormous paper hanging over my head that needed to be finished before I could get my degree and I needed someone to talk to. To unload with and I knew it would not be them, it could not be them and I figured out I needed to step back and so I did. This isn't about needs being met but about deciphering the other.
I'm rambling but let me try it this way. I am not a phone person. Everyone who knows me should know this by now. I like email. I do not like the phone. I do know that if I want to tell my phone people in my life something important I need to call them. They are phone people. So I call. While I would rather send an email I know that their culture of self uses the phone and since it is I who want to get to THEM, I call. Many of my phone people know that if they need to get in touch with me they should email and they do. It's nice and easy. I know what you want, you know what I want. No big deal. Yet, there are some who absolutely will NOT step out of the culture of themselves to acknowledge the culture of other and work with me. Many many fights have happened over this issue. I am tired of it. I need to contact you and you prefer a phone, I call. You need to contact me and I prefer email you do not call and leave harassing messages. That makes me want to contact you less. Also, get over it, stop complaining and bitching about it. Really. The amount of energy wasted on making sure everyone knows how unhappy you are with me is nothing but a waste of time and an outpouring of negativity. The cortisol you are creating is doing nothing good for your self. Accept it and move on (can you tell this has been going on for awhile?).

Let's see...I'll try to bring this back around...You knew the job was dangerous when you took it...mister knew I was a magpie, he knows this and he needs to let it go when is feeling frustrated. I know he is not a magpie, I need to remove myself from is space when he is frustrated with me. I need to let it go and sing a happy song. I can choose to be in control and I can choose to let it effect me or not.

I could also choose to pretend it doesn't but then go type-ity type all the angst on my blog.

So, do you have a strong culture of self? Does your culture offend others? How do you respond?