Inverted Close-Ups

Walking out the door to go to work, I saw it. A cardinal. But not just any cardinal, THE cardinal I have been trying to photograph all month. I eagerly threw my front door back open and raced to get my camera to snap a quick pic before I left. Only when I pushed the "close-up" feature I forgot to verbally explain to my dimwitted camera that the focus was to be on the bird and not the barren tree it was perched in. Fail.


Despite my disappointment with this shot, I still begrudgingly added it among my 2011 collection of “A Year In Pictures” that I religiously post to everyday on Facebook. After all, it is a great picture of a winter tree. Perhaps with the fuzzy crimson bird in the background one might consider this photo artistic.

While this is not how I intended to practice my first day of incorporating art into mundane daily activities, I thought it would nestle in quite nicely among the idea. At the furniture store, part of my job is managing customer care, ie: damages, replacements, etc. My primary form of organization consists of colorful post-it notes that have reminders, usually written in an aromatic black Sharpie, of what needs to be done next with each claim. Tuesday, I took to work with me a deep fuchsia Sharpie from home to make my notes with. My moods are affected by color; the interior of my house is painted a variety of colors and my wardrobe screams of a jewel-toned rainbow. I thought this would be an appropriate way to insert art into my regular routine, and I believe that it made my day at work just a little brighter. The following day included making and consuming a vibrantly colorful dinner, both visually appealing and delicious.



One of my 37 days included incorporating a new jewelry creation into my everyday morning routine of typical Facebooking and blogging while drinking coffee. The results were very exciting and since that day I have made a new creation everyday since this challenge doesn't specify against one consistant art form. The results are exciting, they offer me a slightly new perspective on things, although I admit I still have quite a long way to go.

Yes...

I love that God is a “she” in this poem.

My “Life As A Verb” 37-day challenge is encouraging me to feverishly and freely use the word “yes.” I’m inclined to share the following passage, verbatim:

I was saying a big yes to my life—to all of it, the zinnias in the sun and the syrup on the floor.

It is “stuff” that keeps us from participating fully, from saying yes. Our mobility and sense of fun and playfulness and ability to be directly engaged are muted by our concern for objects, our holding on to. We cherish our objects and we are hampered by them as well, unable to move freely around in the world and engage directly for fear of leaving or losing our coffee cup and 8x11 faux leather legal-pad holder with our initials stamped in the lower right corner in faux gold. No, we say, we’ll just sit right here with our faux things. Objects distance us from ourselves, from others, from life. Things keep us from saying yes. So, too, do other people. And don’t forget us. We most often keep ourselves from saying yes.

Engage with intensity. Say yes. And dance more.

I agree with the author and immediately have the urge to clean out my closets, photo boxes, pantry, and all of the other “junk drawers” disguised as larger storage spaces in my home in the name of simplicity, of letting go.

37-Day Do It Now Challenge:

Each day for the next 37 days, find at least one way to incorporate artfulness into your life. For example, make paying bills an art exercise. Each time you send a letter or bill, decorate the envelope with a drawing or picture cut from a magazine—make are of it. Include inside the bill payment a small card with an inspirational quote. Create goofy caricatures of each family member that you can use as kind of a shorthand when you write notes to one another. Arrange your vegetables on your place in concentric circles, not just a pile and create smiley faces out of fruit in the mornings. Life is art.

I plan to force myself to embrace this challenge out of obligation and intrigue, this could get really interesting, perhaps invoking the organic creativity my soul produces yet has stifled for so long due to external circumstance. In this small, somewhat trivial task, I sense the faint and mysterious aroma of hope. Day 1.

Versatility

When we were in Sea World during Christmas of 2009, to say that Shamu splashed us pretty good would have been an understatement. Because Ryleigh's pants got so wet, they refused to stay up. To keep her pants on, I took my jute belt off and put it on her, only after wrapping it around her about 6 times. Yesterday morning Ryleigh apparently found Dinky's collar laying in the bay window and put it on. It was a perfect fit. I couldn't believe that her 5-year old waist was the exact size of my dog's neck, which has actually gotten a little smaller over the years as he ascends the dog-year ladder. I guess we know where to find her belts from now on, Pet Smart.




I was randomly thinking the other day that water has to be the most powerful “thing” in the entire world. It has the power to clean but it's also the destroyer of many things it comes in contact with, fire, paper, electronics, people, and the ladder also makes it fatal all the while a life source for underwater animals and fish. It is relaxation therapy with the sound of its crashing waves topping the chart of every sound machine available on the market and its soothing abilities as a hot bath releasing tension from achy muscles or the stress of a hard day at work or an icy blast of relief in a pool on a dog-day of summer. Water, in moderation, plays God on many levels for the necessary role it plays for plants to grow and for humans to survive. Water is rain, that which falls outside and also inside ones soul.


The hubs asked me what I wanted for Valentines Day and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing a little. He is notorious for asking about things in advance, my favorite albeit pet peeve is when he asks me what I want for dinner while or right after I have just finished breakfast. My answer usually goes something like this, “Well, I don’t know, can I eat/digest my first meal of today before thinking about my last?” I almost wanted to answer in the same manner about how I’d like to recover from Christmas before thinking about the next giving holiday, but instead I came up with something I think we both desperately need far more than sarcasm, a weekend away together. While I haven’t read of any such known power, I am hoping that the Shenandoah Valley is able to offer us, along with amazing photo opportunities, equestrian entertainment, and the quaint Olde Town colonial shopping experience of the cobble-stoned Friendship Circle, some much-needed healing and renewal.

Rain, With a Chance of Torrential Downpours

I can already confidently cross off several things on my resolution list—and sadly, it’s only January 7th. The "Positive Thinking" flew out of the window when the clock struck midnight on New Year's Eve. The “Do something new everyday” that I so eagerly lifted from my friend’s list was a crash a burn. After the first 3 days I found myself too busy and forgetting to do something new or simply not having the strength to muster the creativity to think of anything new. This New Year couldn’t have come at a more uninspiring time in my life. I even sealed last year with a reading of “The Alchemist” known to be the “book that comes along each decade that changes the lives of its readers forever,” and I was left with nothing.
No inspiration. No optimism. No sense of renewal. I do plan to give this novel another visit at a future date, but what I had hoped to gain from this book was swallowed by my present feelings of defeat. But oh, you say, this should be the best time of your life. You’ve recently gotten married and now have a bundle of joy on the way, and you’re right, one would think that this would be one of the pivotal highlights of my life, and yet, there are so many other burdens clouding this vision that I cannot see past the rain.

Of course, to begin, there is the common third trimester agitation of wanting my own body back from the discomfort of not being able to lean forward to enjoy a meal without my stomach getting in the way, the hip pain that comes from the daily regimen of sleep, the back pain due to the asymmetry of my protruding stomach, and the constant urge to release my bladder.

To compound this problem I have been having routine biopsies done on a batch of pre-cancerous cells that plagued my body early last year. I had an initial surgery to remove them hoping that would take care of the problem but soon after I found out that I was pregnant, before I hit my 6-month check-up mark from my surgery, it was discovered that the cells had returned, and better yet, more aggressively. The cells that have invaded me run on a scale from 1-5. 1 being considered “abnormal,” then there is 2,3, and 4, and finally 5, which is cancer. Last year, these cells were at a solid 2 and since then they have increased to level 3, a mere level away from cancer. The good news is that the baby is now big enough where if my results from yesterdays biopsy prove to be cancerous, he is at what is considered a healthy weight and size to easily survive living outside of the womb with proper medical attention, should they need to take him in order to get me started on immediate treatment. Should all go well and the cells remain under control at a steady level 3 or even 4, then I will simply have another surgery to remove them after we are introduced to Wyatt for the first time. In the meantime, what this means for me is numerous biopsies which get more and more painful the further I am along, as well as the sheer torture of waiting for the results of how these cells are progressing.

I’m in agreement on your thought about my having just gotten married, although I certainly don’t feel married. My husband’s current job has him working and living over an hour away from me, which may not seem like much, but between both of our jobs and each of out children, the time we have available to actually travel those few miles to spend time with one another is limited to about one day per week.
I spend most nights with the sound of the ticking clock in my living room and my dog, my nose glued to the pages of whatever book I have available for my mind to temporarily escape the loneliness that eats me up inside. Gives whole new meaning to my blog title of "The Lone Reed" doesn't it? I feel, even though technically speaking I am not, that I am going through yet another pregnancy, alone. The lack of time spent with my husband has taken a severely negative toll on me and to make matters worse because of our physical distance we have become spiritually distant from one another as well and spend many conversations in argument about the most trivial of things, yet when we're together what becomes painfully obvious is just how desperately we miss each other.

These past few difficult months have reflected on my graduate school work and I ended up with my first “C” in the one class that my fall schedule had dwindled down to after dropping a few others that I simply couldn’t handle with everything else going on. The graduate program at my University holds that any student who receives a grade lower than a “B” must be reviewed for continuance, meaning the panel could decide that I am not a suitable match for their graduate program and dismiss me altogether, and along with that, my career goals, all of my hard work up to this point, not to mention any and all student loans that I have financially accrued. The continuance hearing is supposed to take place this month.

This is honestly, just to name a few of the things that are constantly running through my mind. I could add to this list several others that include but are not limited to finances, anxiety over the new baby, and dissatisfaction with my employment, again, just to name a few, but what is the use. To see all of this laid out in black and white just enhances the depression that has already started to wash over me. Perhaps rather than crossing off “Thinking Positive” from my resolution list, I should cross everything else off and solely work towards this goal in hopes that a little change in thinking might help me make sense of all of this. Then again, maybe not.

Auld Lang Syne

So here it is, 2011. My blogging inconsistencies find me forced to briefly catch you up again. I’ve currently been cooking Wyatt now for 29 weeks and he’s pretty much outgrown all fruit references, although I’m sure if we think hard we can come up with something for his present size—perhaps a cantaloupe? It’s January 4th and I’m starting to become a bit paranoid that his due date is literally just around the corner. I have the urge to start buying some essentials just in case he decides to revisit the road Caleb took and surprise us with an early delivery.

On another note, my friend and I spent New Year’s Eve dining in Heaven, otherwise known as Panera Bread where we began our lists of resolutions. We are planning to frame them and although she is sticking to the timeless tradition of trying to accomplish each of her goals, I’m planning to frame mine without glass so that I can cross each resolution off throughout the year as I break it. The fact that this goal is much more achievable, I find myself inspired by the possibilities. We closed the night out with a viewing of the film, Black Swan, and let me just tell you, this sexual-psycho drama is an absolute must-see. With a great cast, the acting is phenomenal and I love what another reviewer said about Nina’s (Portman’s character) mother being the “creepiest on-screen mother since Sissy Spacek’s performance in Carrie.”
The music is haunting and the film, in general, effectively portrays the psychological mayhem that is the disturbing world of ballet from eating disorders, the ignorance of physical pain and injury, and dancer rivalry’s all in the name of perfection and competition, to the reality of a very short-lived career that can end without a moment’s notice for various reasons including age, weight, injury, or a ballerina’s worst nightmare, a more talented dancer. To give this film a one-worded review would be easy, brilliant. Don’t walk—run to the theater to see this.

The same friend with whom I spent New Year’s Eve with gave me a book for Christmas titled “Life is a Verb: 37 Days to Wake Up, Be Mindful, and Live Intentionally.” I began flipping through this book yesterday and read the introduction. The author wrote this book after her uncle had been diagnosed with lung cancer and given 37 days to live. The poignant and profound experience she had “helping her uncle live and die” prompted her to begin living each day as though she had 37 days to live.
She stands firm with this number, aside from sentimental reasons, because she states that this is just a brief enough time for people to truly want to act on their lives and not long enough to allow them to forget that they are “dying.” The entire book is a challenge, complete with inspirational quotes, writing assignments, reading samples, etc. to shake people out of their ordinary and mundane lives. I have accepted this challenge and will keep you posted on my progress, posting any writing challenges, and/or reflections here.

In addition, my lengthy resolution list includes an idea that I stole—like a pirate—from Tiffany, my New Year’s Eve date, to do something new everyday. Of course, I decided to adopt this resolution as my own on January 2nd and although I’ve wracked my brain, I can’t think of anything new that I did on the 1st. So I started this resolution on the 2nd, but it’s all semantics anyways. I made steamed shrimp for dinner for the first time on January 2nd and found it to be so easy, quick, and delicious that I made it again for lunch on the 3rd. On January 3rd, I created a 2011 Movie Theater Listmania on Amazon to track and review the films that I plan to watch throughout the year. So far, so good on at least this resolution, but we’ll see how it goes.

For your viewing pleasure, My 2011 Movie Theater Listmania:
http://www.amazon.com/lm/R3HKTPADR0BR3D/ref=cm_rna_own_lm

Big Money, Big Money, No Whammies, and STOP!

Sadly, it's been a while since I graced the pages of my blog, and I’m just wondering exactly how many Christmas references I can cleverly drop in this one post. Good King Wenceslas, it has been a crazy couple of months! Allow me to quickly catch you up to speed. In June, I was still bantering about my disappointment in Julia Child and bragging about my coupon whoring ways. It is now October, and Jingle Bells, it is officially Autumn which for me is the most wonderful time of the year. I am actually going to the store today to stock up on soups, chili, and Brunswick Stew.
Since we last met I have started a book club, The Coffee House Readers and although there are officially almost 10 members the club typically consists of online posting and meetings that occur only between my neighbor and I, the founders and sole participants. In addition to the book club, I have gotten married, and I’m also expecting a baby! How's that for a double whammy? As of today, I am 16 weeks pregnant and my baby is the size of an avocado. Each week since I found out I was pregnant the baby has graduated in size by way of various sorts of food, primarily fruit:

Week 8 Kidney Bean
Week 9 Grape
Week 10 Prune
Week 11 Kiwi
Week 12 Plum
Week 13 Lime
Week 14 Lemon
Week 15 Apple
Week 16 Avocado


In my lazy, hazy days of the first trimester, I literally did…nothing. I didn’t want to clean, read, write, or even cook, some of my favorite things to do. I didn’t and still don’t have an appetite for some of my favorite things such as coffee (yeah, yeah, a pregnant woman can have 200 mg’s of caffeine safely per day and a cup of coffee is 130 mg’s, so don’t judge, I couldn’t drink the stuff anyways!), seafood, aside from tuna which now my doctor has limited my consumption of to two times per month due to mercury. Tell me, for how many centuries were pregnant women eating as much tuna as they wanted to and everything went just peachy keen? According to other research that I’ve read, oily fish, including tuna has so many positive aspects that it contributes to the development of a baby that they say the benefits outweigh the risks involved. The jury is still out on that but given the high-risk nature of my pregnancy I am begrudgingly only satisfying my cravings a mere two times per month.

I go to get my second ultrasound this coming Tuesday and should baby avocado cooperate like a good little avocado, then I’m hoping we will know whether it is a boy or girl. My money is on girl although I’ve honestly had dreams of both. We shall see.

I can’t let a posting go without mentioning how media constantly runneths over my life, so before I go, we, Coffee House readers, or rather my neighbor and I are reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies for our October read, quite appropriate for the Halloween season. I will end on this note, a quote from this fabulous novel and one my neighbor drew my attention to, "The creatures were crawling on their hands and knees, biting into ripe cauliflower, which they had mistaken for stray brains.” Speaking of cauliflower, I wonder when Baby Avocado will catch up to that veggie?

"You just put your pickle on everyone's plate, College Boy, and leave the hard stuff to me"

I seem to concoct a million ideas for projects to start that will confine me to a specific container of time all arriving at a refreshing and life-altering goal. I assumed I could blog about this. My first brilliant idea began with the Julie and Julia project sans all 524 recipe’s from Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking cookbook, both volumes. I planned to simply blog. So far, so good, although I don’t get the motivation to blog quite as often as I like, and experience tells me that if you force yourself to do something that pretty much zaps all of the fun out of it. I’m inspired by quirkiness, random ideas, emotions. Without those my mind draws a complete blank. In any case, another genius idea was to live up to my beloved nickname of Coupon Whore and to only buy things that are on sale AND that I have a coupon for. Then my mind immediately began sifting through all the things that I typically need that I can never find on sale or even an expired coupon for. An example you wonder, well, how about ham cubes. There is this lovely Parmesan Tortellini Salad that I make with divine cheese or spinach-stuffed tortellini, frozen peas, parmesan cheese, and ham cubes, just to name a few savory ingredients. I’ve never seen a ham cube coupon and as I type this I realize that I have to stop myself because I told you I’d offer you an example of items that I could neither get on sale nor find coupons for and I’m just recalling that I purchased 2 packages of ham cubes at Food Lion about a week ago because they were on sale 2 for the bargain price of $4.00. Shoot. Let's re-think this......... Ok, because nothing is coming to me, I will simply justify this rant by saying that even if this were a possible feat, and we are soon to find out, this art of being a coupon whore really boils down to a race against time on various levels; time that is required for perusing through the Sunday paper circulars in search of these coupons and their accompanying sales. You need time to compare prices to make certain that you are getting the best possible deal because what’s the point of being a coupon whore when you find that $.25 coupon off Dawn dish detergent and Walgreens is running a sale on them for $.99 along with Kroger however, Kroger doubles manufacturer coupons up to a $.50 face value making the item a coupon whore’s wet dream, FREE! Actually if you purchase this item with the minimum of one other item and take into consideration the fact that your coupon for Dawn dish detergent is technically $1.00, Kroger pays $.01 of your other groceries as well. Let's not omit the race against the ticking clock; couponing in this manner is also a matter of timing things just perfectly, after all when Wisk detergent is only on sale every 6 weeks to accommodate the coupon that you have which runs out in 4 weeks, keeping in mind the fact that your personal bottle of Wisk contains only one mere orange capful of detergent left to which you just added this to your weekly load of bed sheet washing and your husband has just brought home his clothes from the gym, as you adhere to such a stringent coupon/sale marriage, you could be caught in quite the pickle. We can only hope that jar of dills is on sale this week.