to tula

- and her missed presence, her web-spun perfection. The made-up but delightful word "carcai." To lost things and spring, may they one day be found again.

Is blogging, then, where the details live? I wonder. And it's a strong argument for returning full-fledged (me, you, us, everyone, the whole world even), though in the socially-networked, smartphoned-out world we've built up, we've managed to create a series of daylong energy zappers, or diverters, as the case may be. And so maybe it's quality, not quantity we should strive for, hence smaller lists of the close friends or whatever we choose to label them. But I find myself creeping back to the bigger list, the wider circle, for whatever reason. And then quickly becoming aggravated by the clutter, or bored with the excess of details I never wanted or asked for within this wider circle, and left wanting more and/or wondering when and if to give more to and from the smaller circle.

Blogging is better, I think it can be solidly concluded. But then Facebook is where everyone now lives. Ooo - sidenote - is personal blogging now effectively counter-cultural? Almost. Oh, how quickly this world, the vocabulary and the constructs, evolves!

It does present a conundrum of creative energy and social energy and how and where and when to spend it. Or is it not a conundrum and it's really a simple thing.

I do hate, as I mentioned to a friend (camping buddy) on our recent adventure, how everything is scattered across so many different platforms. Pictures, words, thoughts, memories, explanations. Tula would not approve of this way-tangled web. Our online lives' content is sprinkled and scattered and inconsistent and I wish there were a way to scrape it all together and keep it in one spot, at very minimum. At best, shape into something coherent, cohesive and tangible.

We spent New Year's in the woods, the sky super-clear and way more expressive even than what I see here, from our own front yard. This cabin camping trip was a good 'un and I think it will be replicated in the future. Good company, good food, good locale and good scotchy scotch scotch. One excruciating detail is the sole of my shoe, which I rested on the metal fire ring and effectively melted, shredded. I felt it happening but ignored it until we came home. And m, I can't even. Those shoes. My favorite, favorite shoes (Docs), which I wore everysingleday in the colder months. I buried them in the closet and won't even reexamine or document the damage in picture form. Literally it makes me shudder just thinking about their being wrecked.

The shoe repair place here is closed for whatever reason, and there's this online place that I called today for resoling estimate: $79. Plus $12 shipping. That's nearly the cost of a new pair! Which I could, but can't. I really can't justify that. So I've been looking around on ebay but then I accidentally bid on the wrong size and had to ask for bid retraction and consequently cut myself off from ebay for the rest of the night.

There's a few days left of break for myself and the children. Somehow every night I dream of work, either mundane events with the children - maybe my subconscious is worried about a few because FB tells me they've been sick? or sometimes it's weird events that make little sense. Last night on the other hand, a preschool dream evolved into one where J.Lo insisted that, given perfect sky conditions, he could and would fly me in a plane to closely observe the moon.

I'm resolving - no, readying - to conquer or at least surpass the winter's doldrums. I do love that about a school year, the predictable, traditional, month-by-month way it unfolds. And in teaching, how you become responsible for that unfolding, creating and carrying each month's meaning. It's kind of a beautiful anchor. January for my group is all about hibernating. Bear-hunting and such. (EEJ, your birthday party of yore is inspiring an entire classroom setup!)

There is always something to look forward to. Even in this natural time of loss-and-sorrow. (Man, I hate that Param died, right then.) This coming-down from the excitement and glory of Christmas.

There are children to teach, a K.Lo party to plan, walls to paint! And countless other good things.

My resolutions, if they exist, are as such: to create more. What, it does not matter - words, foods, crafts. Now that AA must have received her ninja(?), I can freely blog about how this Christmas season, my absolute favorite thing in the day-by-day madness was hand-making these felty bookmarks and ornaments. With stitching and all. The end results were quirky, personalized and from the penelope-heart. I feel like next year I could start even sooner, but this brings me to my second resolution which is -

to reconnect with serendipity. It's something I feel like the highly sophisticated and awesomely accessible intrawebs has somewhat destroyed, but no - it has simply evolved. Serendipity through FB allowed us in a single random thread to reconnect with old friends and set up that great camping trip. Serendipity through Pinterest landed me on those felty creations, however late in the season. Serendipity still exists, and I want to embrace it.

Also, not a resolution but a conclusion for 2013. Something I almost posted on the FBs and then retracted five thousand times in my mind, but will place here as A Detail: There is no "getting better." I'm done waiting for that, after nearly a year of having suspected LD, journeying to figure out WTF it was and attempting to treat it and then still having symptoms, everysingleday. Every single day, I will probably feel something wrong with me, the weak arm or the achy joints or the not remembering shit moment to moment. Mixing up word context and being only vaguely aware of it after the sentence has been spoken. And other weird or disconcerting randoms. But I can't let the excuse of it overwhelm me into lump-dom, into putting xyz off indefinitely. There is rest and self-caring, yes. But also continuing to live a life, and attempting to make it a good life.

I suppose this a stopping point for now. TBB (to be blogged) is a list of my random pet peeves, to which I couldn't manage to naturally segue here, including the recent trendy word and related phrase, "gut" and "gut health." And I look forward to the Hallmark Channel post.

love to you across the miles,
pen

dear melter of smurfs,

Really, what on earth was that gak-like substance melted in your stove? Bet it smelled awesome!

Well so here I am. Right eye twitching and occasionally leaking out the far corner. It's Set Up for Vacation Bible School week. Which does tap into my crafty spirit, although the marble wall did thwart me. Yesterday we made a well out of a table wrapped in last year's paper brick wall, and I rimmed the top edge in sand and thinned-out glue.

I'm in that phase of feeling like Facebook is impossibly stupid, full of inconsequential drivel, so I either need to change whoever's showing up in my feed or stick to the short-short list (because I don't want to miss out on gak, that's the good stuff) or just not check it so much at all.

There's a very good chance I'll finish the book I'm reading, which is not even the usual fluff-fare. Amazing. I feel all bookish again. And I'm excited that we've picked another book to read together!

Three weeks without satellite dish and I miss it not at all. Hulu and Netflix together are more than adequate (I say until ProRun premieres. How did you access that??)

I've painted my toes two weeks in a row and have been wearing borderline cute clothes, maybe to make up for my complete lack of chutzpah. It's raining a lot, so as to invite children's loudness and puppy's boredom and also garden soil's fungus gnats. J.Lo is having an especially bullshit time at work, fixing an impossibly long list of broken things. And let's not forget that terrible daily puzzle of tingling limbs and lost words and whether or not I'm actually losing my mind. That'd be nice to solve. But right now I could really use some pretzels.

dear m,

I’m beginning to understand what you mean about sailing through the levels of FarmTown. And then sometimes it’s like you don’t have a penny until next harvest and other times, like post-pineapple harvest over at m’s jungle, you have so much money you don’t know what to do with it. I mean, I could save up for a 300,000-coin manor house, OR… I could create a meditation space along one side of my farm with the help of hedges, park benches, a fountain, and animal-shaped topiaries. I mean, whichever. And then maybe I’ll upgrade my lot size—yet again—and build a stone wall flanking the meditation garden, just because I can. In anticipation of what I really want, which is a river. Which will eventually flank two sides of the farm. I have to wait until level 27, really? Really. All riiiiight. I only have 3 more to go.

And I guess they’ll just have to keep adding stuff to buy or whatever because I notice some of my friends are getting so far along in the game, they’re just plowing and cutting their losses, starting over again at Farmville, because there’s like, nothing else to do. No pimped-out palace left to buy. Although don’t we all aspire to the mansion. And the greenhouse. I’m just saying.

Oh, and although I’ve already told you about it, let me mention for our readers the series of death threats I encountered the other day during a harvest. Never again will I hire someone with a name like eVILin or whatever that crazy person’s name was. I mean honestly. You see someone on the news who does something completely unhinged-whacko like go off in a parking lot with a machine gun, and you think, what kind of person DOES that. Well, I met her, in cartoon farmer person. “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you, etc.” Completely unprovoked! And going on and on until I asked her to leave. And reported her. Because, ick. I mean, maybe in a game like Mafia Wars, if there was an opportunity? But I usually associate FT with happy-go-lucky types. Sheesh.

In the meantime, I await the posting of Grey’s online, so I can actually WATCH it. Though I soaked up every spoiler I could possibly read over the summer, I’m now feeling anxious at any and all FB status allusions to watching and crying one’s face off. Because, um, I wanna watch it immediately! Me too me too. Although frankly it will probably have to wait until tomorrow night at least. Tonight and tomorrow will feature the last of September’s birthday celebrations. Tonight I must dress like a hippie and sing my heart out, and tomorrow possibly some tasty appetizers of the Asian fusion variety. Cheers.

Good day to you madam.

love,

penelope

While You Were Gone, by M

My 6th grade english teacher found me on facebook.

No really.

I was staring at the friend request : so and so reckons they know ye. (i still have FB turned to "pirate english") And I racked the brain thinking who is this guy and why does his name seem soooo familiar. And then I thought could it be?! NO WAY! I rushed home as fast as traffic and my edge could carry me and flipped thru my yearbook and there he was. A little dorkier and fresh faced, but still pretty cute then my imagination made him but, I had such a crush on this guy as a 6th grader. He was nice, gave me attention, encouraged my stories- turned his smily faces to martians on my papers (of which a couple i still have). And I have till this day remembered him fondly. As one does with vague impressions that you can trust because you've carried them with you for so long- He was a good guy, a good teacher to me. He made a difference.

So I asked him, how on earth did you remember me?!

To which he replied:
P**** cast ye a bottle with a message.
(dead men tell no tales)

"Hi Mendacious!! Of course I remember you! You always had a happy smile and encouraging word. What have you been doing these past 21 years??"

I. Am. Floored.

an anti-resolution

When thinking about my resolutions, I briefly considered and then promptly forgot a resolution to spend less time on the Internet. Not intending to shirk any of my duties or loves, of course, such as emailing, blogs, Lexulous, and Facebook. Just less time… “surfing?” The mindless quest for whatever. Something I’m shopping for or some idea I’m researching. Sometimes the quest, because it takes so "long,” feels a bit mindless. Wasteful. But, on the other hand, it feels sort of natural. Since the Internet really came to be in my world (1998 or so? is it the same for everyone else?), I’ve been a surfer, a peruser, a quester. Is this a bad thing? When I look at the habit as objectively as I possibly can, I wish that I could be more efficient in my dealings with the Internet: have idea/objective/goal, hop online, complete mission, log off. Walk away. But I can’t. I think about all the other supposedly productive things I could or should be doing instead, and then get irritated at my Internet-ing, labeling it a giant time-suck and/or useless void. But then again, I wonder. I’m a very introspective person… and in all this “mindless” activity, I feel like the value might actually be in its mindlessness. It’s mental downtime, my Searching for Whatever. And so while there’s always room to trim up, to make one’s daily activities more efficient, and generally to spend less time on the Intra-Web, I think ultimately I’m just not going to worry about it. Just let it be, and in that way, let me be.

riding the wave

Does it work:
Accupressure to induce labor??? Possibly. I just know I went into labor within 24 hours. For real.

Contractions: Definitely more intense this time. Although labor progressed more slowly.

The iPod:
Excellent for focusing during labor. For tuning out distractions, voices, one's (dear) husband and doctor discussing SPORTS. I used it off and on, with a mainly mellow mix, though during transition, I opted for higher-energy No Doubt.

Epidural:
Absolutely. Indispensible. Hurt, yes; was freaky, yes. But this anesthesiologist administered it somehow even better than I had with K.Lo, and I'm just, I don't know. Speechless. Eternally grateful.

So meaningful:
Presence of parents during labor, mom during birth.

Sheepish bragging rights:
Took just five minutes to push baby out. C r a z y.


Burst into untamable tears:
Approximately 2 1/2 days after having baby, just the same as last time. The inevitable hormonal crash. Brought on by K.Lo holding N.Lo, sitting all together on couch as family.

The next evening, when J.Lo suggested moving N.Lo into guest bedroom, instead of the Little Ones sharing a room. (Due to K.Lo being terribly difficult to put to bed.) After all the planning, all the work... before they're even really sharing the room... and the furniture we'd have to get rid of... and all the shuffling around. Really, it is a bridge we will cross if and when we come to it. But even in theory, I still can't discuss it without becoming completely, irrationally upset.

And today, while holding Baby N.Lo in quiet moment by self, marveling at how little, how perfect. Amazing.

Remembering:
In the week after pregnancy, it's best not to actively think too much. The thoughts will come anyway, and many will pack quite an emotional punch. Don't fight it, don't get too caught up in it, just ride the wave, as this too shall pass.

What it's like to hold, and care for, and simply witness a newborn, which is to say, wow.

Like riding a bike:
Nursing, multi-tasking while nursing, the art of half-sleeping while nursing. The learning curve has gone way up the second time around. While your new baby's personality and feeding style is different, the whole ordeal is a lot less mysterious, and you've got skills. Here, the universe throws you a bone.

All new:
Changing a boy's diaper. Think I've got it down.

Juggling a toddler's needs with a tiny baby's needs, with own needs. Still figuring this one out, suspect I will be for some time. And once I think I have the answer, probably all circumstances will change, requiring yet another path.

Out the window:
Long-term personal goals, i.e. weight loss, fitness, everyone sleeping peacefully through the night in his or her respective bed. Not even worrying about it right now.

Curiosities:
Why, after having a baby, does one's belly button migrate 2 inches north. And does this problem ever solve itself? Became pregnant again too quickly the last time around to find out.


And in other news...
Can I possibly love more, I don't know:
Heather on ANTM. Sweet, intriguing, the best results from photo shoots. Really hope she wins.

Pretention:
Recently joined ranks of Facebook after learning it is not as ghetto as MySpace, and one day looked up high school classmates. This one guy, who graduated a year early and incidentally beat me out by one spot in class ranking, the smug little turd, has no less than three Facebook profiles. The only difference I see are his networks, and possibly the general feel of his photos. One shows him in a suit, smiling smarmily. Another, playing cello in a field. The third, he's all "weekend out with my hot blonde girlfriend." Each network, of course, is something along the lines of "Princeton Alum," or "Cornell Alum" (Andy on The Office, anyone?). Basically, it's a big WTF and confirmation that some things never change--because it's all about status, baby.

TV:
I have dropped (sadly, I know) Pushing Daisies from the lineup. It's not that I don't enjoy it and think it's immensely clever. But I take too long to watch it, and half the time either don't pay attention or fall asleep. Maybe it's just not for me right now. Maybe a DVD Netflix marathon, someday.