the color of futility

I think it’s a very pale shade of green. Yesterday I helped paint the church basement again, and that sucker ain’t ever gonna be finished. Oh sure, it will get done eventually. I realize that. But when you have in your head 2-3 days and at the end of the first day you barely have a first coat on most – not even all! – surfaces, it feels Sisyphean. There is just so. much. area. to paint.

But at least it wasn’t quite as hot/stale/muggy as the first painting escapade, which translated to me not feeling quite so much like death.

And I shopped for children’s church library books today. I feel like we were successful? And that I might understand why there’s no big box bookstore in D-ville? Because everyone just goes to Goodwill. Seriously could have spent the day looking through their books. But after awhile and before that another new-used hole-in-the-wall store that will never survive if they charge everyone as little as they charged us, I was running on vapors and had to quit. Note to self: ALWAYS BRING ALMONDS.

Whatelse. School is going swimmingly for K.Lo. She’s been processing her school days behind a closed bedroom door, playing teacher for hours. Really. It’s the most awesomest thing ever. J.Lo has a nasty cold that he’s trying to pass on to me. I’m waving around bunches of garlic but I’m not sure it’s going to work. I'm also pseudo job hunting again, very specifically for online something or other, for the moment. And it always sends me into a deep spiral about my abilities and inabilities and back to that pale shade of green. But I’ll buoy myself out of it dammit, at least to send in an application or two. RIGHT?

Or something.

Those PBS montages are just epic. Thank you for insisting I watch them finally, as I noted their presence on pinterest awhile ago and told myself to click on them but never did. I can’t even decide which is my fave. Eating, imagination and art. I mean. Let’s just embrace all three shall we. THE STUFF OF LIFE.

Also who wouldn’t embrace a random independence day that is highly symbolic. And go you with your epic weight loss! Someday perhaps you’ll blog more about that. And what you think home will hold, after your sentence contract ends.

I suppose it’s bedtime but I’m feeling noncommittal. I’d really like to usurp – is that really a word and am I using it in the right context – control of the television so I can finally watch ProRun, but I’m allowing the sickie to do some Netflix movie streaming. Which leaves me and my marginally amusing book club read, which no one else in the group has had the time or energy to even start, so the motivation has sort of dissolved very quickly. But we’re meeting at a sushi place on Friday night, so I’m looking forward to that part. Just not the reading part. Maybe I’ll forage for a new book tonight, hmm.

Also, all of my clothes suck, being baggy, or old, or appropriately summery. Basically I am ready to wear jeans. But perhaps I’ll be both ambitious and lucky tomorrow in revamping an old shirt or two to fit correctly. and not hideously. or pale greenly, by which I mean metaphorically, not literally.

that is all. goodnight.

the mediocre talents of pen

she reads

she writes

she bakes

she cuts hair.

she doodles

she plants

she photographs

she paints walls.

she tends to children.

she daydreams

she analyzes

she respects the need for rules

(while at the same time despising the constructs).

she wonders

she observes

she snarks

she calls bullshit

she demands

she listens

she feels

she cares.

she has no idea what to do with any of it.

that last one shouldn’t be a talent

but it is

it’s not a boohoo

just a statement –

she’s a pen of many small trades

master of none.

to m – if i weren’t pen,

I guess I would have stuck with being a biology major and diverted to horticulture in my last few years of college? Or maybe I would have ditched the sciences for the humanities all over again, but hopefully would have chosen something practical – not English, and not something completely vague like Communications – like counseling? Which of course wouldn’t have been lucrative, either, but decidedly more concrete. More marketable – more needed.

I don’t know where these choices would have taken me because obviously I would have met a completely different set of people and the space-time continuum would have been completely thrown out of whack. I wouldn’t have met you (gasp), not in Chicago, because I wouldn’t ever have gone. Unless it was for a business trip, or somesuch. Maybe I would have migrated to the mountains of Western NC, or somehow found myself back up North. Maybe.

Would I have been more centered, surrounded by plant life or the emotionally off-kilter? Perhaps. Maybe I would have found yoga sooner, or became a vegetarian. Maybe I’d wear glasses all the time – although I’m sure it still would have given me headaches. And obviously I’d be a brunette. With an eyebrow piercing, a penchant for jean jackets and possibly an ankle tat. Maybe I’d be the kind of person who could choose and commit to a tat. But I still would have been adverse to tanning, bumper stickers and phone conversations, I’m sure of it.

And it’s very possible I’d have an entirely different set of children, a lingering fear of dogs and no m and no j.lo in my life, none of which is okay, clearly, and so the exercise can only take us so far…

still pen, still here :)

do birds feel grief?

Yesterday I was sitting in the backyard while the children played on their waterslide, and out of the blue there was a random *thunk.* A bird’s nest fell out of our Japanese maple. And it turned out there had been an egg in it, and it did not survive. Sadness! No commotion of birdspeak, feathers or flying followed the incident, and so perhaps it was just gravity. Or poor planning on the part of the builder? I couldn’t help but wonder about the mama bird who just lost one of her  young, and whether she knew it was her fault, or not, and did she lament the fallen nest and egg on the ground. Or maybe it was just an *oops,* or a *damn, that’s inconvenient,* and she moved on to build a new nest and lay the rest of her eggs without lingering. I suppose I’ll never know the answer, but it was still sad, anyway. And I swear I still don’t like birds. Okay, maybe a little bit. Maybe.

bounce

This post is sooo long overdue, but here I am. After K.Lo’s Bouncy Party in January, I was all psyched on the idea of bouncing, and wished to muse. I briefly pondered the purchase of a trampoline, and still it remains tucked away on my secret wish list for someday. Maybe when the children are older and I can better justify the monetary and yard space costs? All I know is, it’s an amazing workout: cardio and calves both feel the burn. But so much better is the experience of bouncing. It is instant tele-transportation back to childhood. It is brain on ice. There are very few activities in my world where I feel freedom from thought. Not of thought; there is plenty of that. From thought. Most nights I have trouble getting to sleep because I can’t shut my mind down, and must make a concerted effort to do so. It’s an interesting problem to have, over-thinking. Not bad necessarily, just interesting. Maybe that’s just what it is to be a girl. It is my personal advantage and disadvantage, assisting me only up to a point. For instance, I type really well—until I start to think about it. Same thing with walking. Talking. And parenting. It’s why I’m bad at exercise as well, too much time and space to think about the action of exercise, and ponder its futility. All exercise should be like bouncing, where there is nothing to do but bounce and fully immerse oneself in the physical action of it. And in a bouncy castle, creepy as m claims them to be, all I see, all I know in that space is color and laughter and the green and blue and brown world tossing about just on the other side of the net, and it’s a beautiful thing.

 

30-31: Reflections

Overall, I’d give 30 a thumbs-up, though I generally have better luck with the odd-numbered birthdays. Which is a positive for this upcoming year, right? I just like being in my 30s, so much better than the 20s, and especially better than the teens. It’s like I’ve *arrived.* Like this is who I am supposed to be. Although I still have many, many moments of uncertainty and other imperfections, I feel like it is generally a wiser, more productive era of penelope. I feel a better sense of direction and purpose over the present and future. Nothing *big* happened this year, for which I am honestly, entirely grateful. I’ve had a lot of bigness crammed into a very small amount of time, and I’m preferring to let the results of that bigness (marriage, home, children) unfold just as they are for a little while before I invite more in.

Meanwhile, I have nothing *big,* per se, planned for this year, either, but a lot of small things, which tend to culminate into something. I will read, I will exercise. I’ll do a few house projects and spend time outside, and garden. I’ll try to pry myself away from Facebook more, but will keep writing on my blogs, which is important. Will appreciate good relationships. Eat well. Maybe plan a family trip? I’d like to go camping, at least. Listen to self, tend to self, taking especially into account my own limits. And weather storms small and large, remembering that they all do pass, that the sun will eventually shine.

Today, I’m thinking: Nikki’s sushi for dinner with J.Lo. Ponder the brilliant shadowbox. And maybe figure out some sort of a chocolate sauce, for which I have some strawberries.

dear blog,

Apologies for my pronounced neglect this week. Am currently vacationing in Book Land with Alice and Charlie Blackwell and the tale of American Wife. My idle mind ponders little else, except maybe the sunshine and flowers that were out all week and then suddenly this morning disappeared. And the looming issue of Exercise, and what to do about it. Nothing appeals anymore. Am stuck in a sort of resentful and unproductive inertia that human beings should even have to exercise to begin with, why can’t we be naturally toned and fit from the comfort of our couches, or even the comfort of outdoors, swinging the children on the swings and pondering what vegetables and herbs will go in the garden. Oh and one more thing: why exactly did the Red Tent ever go out of fashion. Because seriously, in the midst of the rainy, chilly weather that looms for the next six or so days, my mood is an exact reflection and I mainly feel useless, if not detrimental, to societies large and small. Although remembering the past days of sunshine and light, I did purchase a set of four exciting snack bowls to replace the white set I found aesthetically displeasing based on shape alone: the new set is black on the outside with a beautiful shiny red on the inside. They make everything they hold taste better, I don’t know why. And the banana cake in the fridge with the cream cheese frosting remains a daily highlight. And my fa-mii-ly all seems (knock on wood) to be well and happy for the time being. A Smartini cabin retreat in the mountains looms large on the horizon that is April, along with a local herb fair at the end of March, not to mention a potentially exciting secondhand sale tomorrow in which I hope to procure a double stroller that may assist the aforementioned Exercise issue, even if I’m skeptical that walking will really be that effective or efficient, calorie-burning-wise. Maybe it will be so, over time? Lastly, in my even-more-sensitive-than-usual state I am perhaps a little more than vaguely concerned about m and her absence, like what is going on 3000 miles away and I hope she’s not entrenched and spiraling in her dark place, but seizing the free time that lies before her to create and dream and realizing above all that she’s all kinds of awesome and fully worthy and able to accomplish even the most lofty of goals, however unattainable they at times seem. I worry that instead she’s hiding out in a bunker somewhere with access only to Netflix Watch-It-Now and our game of Facebook Scrabble, which inarguably have their value, but what about the art supplies, and let’s not forget the mountains and the sky and the trees.

That is all I have for now, my dear blog... 

xoxo,

penelope

Red Tent, barren landscape. It has a certain appeal.

recent findings, (in)conclusions

• I do not, nor possibly will I ever, enjoy brown rice.
• Same goes for whole grain pasta, although I *might* give it another chance.
• Until then, I plan to fully enjoy my nutritionally valueless refined pastas and rice. Yum.
• Most of the other grains I eat are whole, with no HFCS. I know too much to eat differently, anymore.
• It’s very difficult to find hot dog buns without HFCS. Even from the grocery store bakery, you still might not find them.
• Antiperspirants make my underarms hurt (random? or is it), so I’ve switched, as an experiment, to all-natural deodorant.
• I’ve tried two different kinds, and one works just fine, although it’s not summer yet. If you know what I’m saying. My underarms felt much better.
• The other kind totally still make my underarms feel weird, and I swear that it made my boob hurt, too. A lot.
• Just because you can’t google the pain, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.
• I’m kind of lucky that I don’t sweat much, though.
• Not exercising aids this issue. There’s a positive. Of not exercising.
• Although, I did exercise twice this past week. For the first time in forever.
• Organic Braeburn apples are stop-in-your-tracks tasty.
• Costco is still the most convenient place for me to buy produce. Even if it’s mostly not organic, and definitely not local.
• Whatever. It’s like, wherever and whenever possible.
• I love dark chocolate, a whole lot.
• Farm-fresh eggs? Yes.
• Pure & Natural soap smells really good and comes in a container with baby’s breath seeds in it. You can plant the container, for real, and thusly enjoy the plant.
• However, despite its Pure & Naturalness, it still makes me break out.
• Aveeno soap remains the only soap that doesn’t make me break out. Fragrance or fragrance-free, doesn’t matter. Aveeno, thumbs-up.
• J.Lo hates the Mrs. Meyer’s dish soap I bought, which is rhubarb-scented. Upon further examination, I don’t blame him. Will probably donate said dish soap to a better cause.
• The glass and countertop cleaners, however, are not not as offensive. And, they work.
• I still use bleach to clean the bathroom, occasionally. Don’t foresee this habit changing. Mainly because it works. Kicks the shit out of some mold and germs.
• Are you still listening? I totally don’t blame you if you aren’t.
• Actually, I’m not sure we have a substantial blog audience anymore, anyway.
• Everyone’s on Facebook, or else living their “offline lives,” or whatever.
• And that’s fine. I’m glad that, in addition to a Facebook account and a life offline, I still have a journal.
• And a space that is just Pen & M’s.
• However, if you are still listening, we love you.
• I can’t think of anything else to say. And it’s bedtime.

Penelope out!

nature vs. not

Recently, I have:

*Read In Defense of Food, by Michael Pollan.

*Perused two other “real food” books, one by Marion Nestle, and one by Nina Planck, until I basically overdosed on seriousness and needed to step back a bit in my pondering.

*Visited the local co-op, decided for the most part, it wasn’t worth it when considering cost, convenience, and selection. Wished I felt otherwise, but it’s true. Maybe for a few items here and there.

*Signed petition re: food and politics, hoping to do my small part in supporting BETTER FOOD in America. Posted said petitions to Facebook profile like crazy person. Oh, btw, sign it already!

*Watched “King Corn” on Netflix. Decided, yes, they really are subsidizing cheap crap filler for our food. And they don’t care to stop it because…well, don’t get me started. That’s not the point of this post.

*Eliminated as much high-fructose corn syrup from company fridge and cabinets as possible—until the point where I was vetoed by rest of staff. Now consume HFCS in very small, discriminatory amounts. Husband thinks I’m weird and/or nuts; is possibly correct.

*Started eating a lot more fruit. Fresh and dried, no sugar added, when there is a choice.

*Naturally begun greening the cleaning as well, wherever possible. Will probably still use up cabinet full of non-green products so it’s not a total waste? And don’t foresee axing things like ammonia and bleach for heavy-duty cleaning needs.

*Downward spiraled a bit into Green. I am (and this is the point of the post here) no longer sure where to draw the line on some things. I guess it’s a “wherever possible” thing? An “increased awareness” thing? I don’t know. Because obviously truth is so nebulous today, who is to say whether any of this green & natural stuff really matters. I think it does, it has to some, but to what extent. I’m not ready to jump on 100%.

Because, here is the thing. Some products were created as a cheaper, easier-to-produce alternative, the long-term effects of which were not considered, or else were ignored. Are ignored. Other items, however, were created to meet a true need, and who is to say  whether those products aren’t actually better? Science doesn’t tell the whole story, or answer so many of the questions, but to completely discount it feels wrong. Like, for instance, when I take my Bug to the doctor with a raging ear infection, and she’s better in mere hours, thanks to those wonderful antibiotics. Thanks to science. (Thanks, science!)

So, when examining products to determine their value, their safety, their risk, how does one really decide. For foods, fewer ingredients are generally better, as well as ingredients one recognizes. Pesticides and non-sustainable agriculture = bad, but seriously, I’m still going to buy the waxed, perfect apple. Because that’s what available, and you know what? It’s still an apple.

What about cleaners? I recognize BLEACH, but that doesn’t make it a good thing—or something I’m about to stop using to scrub down the bathrooms and door handles after a bout of the flu. I also recognize TALC, which is supposedly not too great either, and that one’s in my baby’s diaper cream. The tried and true diaper cream that has worked like a charm for both of my kids, and that I continue to use. But is it carcinogenic, because of the talc, or anything else it contains? I can find information that tells me yes, and also information that tells me no, don’t worry about it.

Maybe I’m getting too nitty-gritty.

But, I still don’t know whether it’s worth it to change out the diaper cream.  I’m left to sort of throw my hands up in the air, wondering to dismiss the issue altogether because hey, it’s a mainstream product, so it can’t be bad… but HFCS is also mainstream, and my gut says that’s not good, that it’s totally a sham. Diaper cream is applied daily, for two years or more, directly to skin. The “natural” diaper cream I’m guessing doesn’t work as well, and is like, $10+ for 2 oz., no exaggeration there.

What to do, what to do. Maybe think about something else. Eat something, clean something, change a diaper. Oh wait…

pondering the doom and the gloom.

*Update! Emily was right, it was just renovations, and frankly, I’m so relieved. Because that Cali Avocado sandwich today was the BEST EVER. Although, decidedly smaller, for the same price. Looks like the paint and the drink machines weren’t the only renovations they made… They did give me a whole plate of pickles for K.Lo, no extra charge, so I can’t complain.

I don’t know the scoop on MG or OTB. It seems very strange to me, since they were always busy, and such a huge chain.

Kim had some disconcerting food for the thought the other day over at My Biz, about how, not to be panicky or anything, but things are looking pretty grim these days? And my thoughts are that I’m generally pretty resistant, myself, to punching the Panic Button. These things are cyclical, and it may take some years, but what goes down must come up, and all of that. It will be okay, right now, and get better eventually. But I do kind of hate it. The general air of *bleak,* the wild places my imagination goes, etc. For self-preservation purposes, I have to simply filter a lot of the news out, and focus on our own little microcosm. Have to.

But man. When typically hopping restaurants all of a sudden go out of business? It really does disturb me. My friend told me today that Atlanta Bread, Macaroni Grill, and On the Border are all closed. Not to mention Artisan Cafe, and WOW (the wings place). And Bar-B-Cutie across the street. Not to mention Linens-N-Things. All these restaurants/stores are in a pretty well-to-do area of town, with regular, heavy traffic (okay, maybe LNT was always dead, whenever I went, but still). I myself don’t even go out to eat a whole lot, and Atlanta Bread was a huge fav.

I’m really bummed about that one. Is it true, guys? I haven’t been over there in a few weeks. I guess it’s got to be true. Not that I’m not just as bothered when the mom-and-pop shops go out, but there’s something so foreboding about big chain stores and restaurants sinking, and all at the same time?  I’ll try not to think about it too much, because it is what it is, and as a sensitive soul, this is the sort of thing that could easily keep me up at night, when there’s nothing I can really do… Bah. I just want to know where I’m going to get my soup in a bread bowl now, not to mention my California Avocado sandwich. MAN.