Companion

I have a new love in my life! He is kind of high maintenance and a huge commitment, but playful, cuddly, and so handsome.

He's a young golden mix rescued as a stray - with NO training to speak of. So he has some communication, impulse, and abandonment issues. But who am I to judge?!

I had the kids at school suggest names and got a whole bunch of fabulous ideas. Then on one of our first walks together, my "This American Life" podcast mentioned Bacon County, GA named after Senator Augustus Octavius Bacon, and his fate was sealed. So welcome to the family: Agustus Octavius Bing-Crosby Duke Teddy Pineapple Noodle Luke-Skywalker Fredsterly Kozmo Fuzzy-Wuzzy Zonker Coolio Colonel-Smarty-Pants Bob-Barker Lucky Bacon. 

Though we will just call him Gus. Maybe Gus-Gus for short.

...and working on training him to high five.

Let the Diamonds Sparkle Anyway

I surrender. I am too tired and sensitive for this.
Life is too short to give so much energy to what you think may be missing.

How about trying to focus on what I do have, rather than what I don't?!
Maybe embrace all the kinds of love that are already in my life.

If/when I find a partner, lovely. But I can't seem to work up the energy to put in any more effort at the moment. And I'm actually pretty content in my little life at the moment.

Recently, my parents were changing safety deposit boxes and brought out the diamond ring my grandmother left me. I had always figured that someday I'd use it to make an engagement ring. But I tried it on, and I felt suddenly much more adult - like at least my hands were now more equal with the women who get to wear the expensive sparkly badge of being loved.

I decided to just start wearing it on my right hand. I added a little purple to make it more "me" and hopefully a little less engagement-y. Yes, now at first glance my hand might communicate "not available" to men, but hopefully just to those who don't know their right from their left and/or who aren't interested enough to stick around for a minute and find out.

Enough with the waiting.

Things that make me happy...

Of all the many open parking spots in the lot, the other Ruby Sue owner chose to park right next to me! (Something I would totally do.)















I didn't have time to stick around and see who the other owner was, but their car was a little messy inside, so I'm kind of hoping it was just a kindred spirit and not actually supposed to be my soul mate - I have enough trouble keeping my own Ruby Sue clean.

Almost Famous on the Tangled Web

I have spent some quality time on other blogs lately, and I am in love, love, love with two blogs these days, one of which is What Would Emma Pillsbury Wear? (the other is Gertie's New Blog for Better Sewing). I can't wait to see what they will be posted next. It's like a present in my inbox when a new posting from one of them pops up in my RSS feeds.

So what happens when one of these amazing women comments on my fledgling style blog?! I run screaming through the hall to my friend, who luckily understands the magnitude of this event in my mind. The WWEPW lady didn't really even say much, but she's following it! It's like a legend came to visit ME!

I spent some quality time floating on air, explaining this momentous occurrence to anyone who will listen (and receiving mixed responses), when... up pops another comment on the blog, this time from the actually kind of famous Gemma Cartwright, from Big Girls Browse. Only she's not so happy because I called the name of her site "horrible". Oops. Mortification ensues.

Turns out, I don't know the British phrase "big girl's blouse" to refer to an effeminate man, so I did not understand the name of her site at all. It seemed like she was calling us "big girls" who are only able to browse in the world of fashion? It didn't make sense to me given her perspective of celebrating fashion for non-model sized women, but obviously I should have asked a question or two instead of publicly criticizing what I didn't understand!

And so I learned a great lesson in making sure you really want to stand by what you publish, even when you think no one is reading.

Given this roller coaster of events, I am experiencing a blog-dentity crisis. Does this attention mean I should keep up the style blog as well? I was thinking it was just temporary phase. Someone else was supposed to represent the curvy women. And I'm not sure what my real point is...

What are we all doin on here anyway? Narsisitic self-indulgence? Fishing for connection and community? Waiting for a book deal to find us? Hoping to finally feel heard? I'm not sure why, but I obviously feel compelled. Thanks for indulging me, blogosphere.  :)

Why I Love My Job #216

At the beginning of every year we take the new 8th graders to "Leadership Camp" for ropes course and community building activities (and for handstands, volleyball, and finding out who is going out with whom). I get to use my outdoor education experience and stretch my wings building an experiential program for the kids I know so well in another context. Every year I feel simultaneously exhilarated and exhausted by my worlds coming together. Like I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing. But it makes me so tired that I can't imagine teaching kids full time (God bless those of you who do).

New this year to my ever-expanding job, I have an Advisory of nine exuberant 7th grade girls who come to my room 30 minutes every day to get organized, talk about social and emotional life, and bond as a group with an adult they trust. Basically all of my favorite things. So suddenly I'm filled with professional inspiration. Staying up late reading research, writing plans for relational aggression lessons, getting advice from teachers, parents, and counselors, energized and excited to try things, lots of love and patience for students...

It occurs to me: isn't that supposed to be what you do when you get a degree in all this stuff? But I'm more that a little gun-shy when it comes to graduate school. You can only drop out miserable from so many institutions of higher learning before you begin to loath the thought of opening yourself up to torture again. Am I finally really personally invested in what I want to learn? Enough to outweigh the old paralyzing perfectionism? If so, how and where? Teaching certification/masters? Finish the school counseling degree?

Despite uncertainty about the particulars, it seems like I might have to consider giving in to that teaching degree I've been trying so hard to avoid. And maybe happily. Hard to fight with that feeling of doing what you are meant to do.

The dizzy dancing way you feel...

...when every fairy tale comes real. I've looked at love that way.
-Joni Mitchell (from the song Both Sides Now)

Powerful drug, that first spark of romance.
Happiness startles me awake in the morning.
I don't really need to eat. Except a little chocolate.
I walk around smiling. Catch myself whistling.
I feel generous and patient.
I see human kindness and love wherever I go.
I am full of Hope.

But then, good old Fear starts nibbling away.
Sometimes even jumps out and grabs hold of the whole thing.
If it's good enough to make you dizzy,
it must be too good to be true, you see.
So prepare for the worst.
If you start to attach and depend, you'll have too much to lose.
Protect yourself, it tells me.

...if it hurts don't let them know. Don't give yourself away.

Isn't there a way to live somewhere in the middle? Where you relax and enjoy the fun and possibility of a new connection? My brain knows this, but my heart has been so well trained to defend itself fiercely.

If only we could convince my heart to stay open. No matter what happens, I am bound to at least learn something along the way - if I can hang in there and pay attention. God knows, I could use a little more learnin'.

I really don't know love at all.

Why I Love My Job #163

Third grader Maggie unexpectedly pops her head into my office and says: "I have no idea why I'm running in the hall with no shoes!"

Um. Me neither. Thanks, Maggie.

Once and Again

So, I appear to be dating my boyfriend from 7th grade - again. Or finally. [See disclaimer for liberal use of the term "boyfriend" to describe the previous relationship.] However we want to define it... once upon a time, he was a first toe in the water. A boy I really liked in middle school who I "went out with" twice actually, but wasn't ready or able to do much more than giggle and turn red over.

It all started (this time 'round) on Facebook. He followed the link to my blog and emailed me that he didn't think I should go online for dates because it is "weird and unnatural". I thought this was hilarious - that he had the nerve to say that and because it was feeling completely true as I was trying to do it again. I asked if he had any better ideas. Someone mentioned Thai food. One thing led to another...

The whole thing is a little surreal. But definitely good so far. He is comfortably familiar, and yet new and exciting. We seem to speak the same language, and are making up for that lost phone time. And I appear to be getting guitar lessons out of the deal. :)

I am a little cautious about letting this great story of re-meeting overshadow the actual experience of how we relate, like may have happened when I got swept up in the grand beginning of the Trader Joe's/Craigslist experience. But so far, the connection feels rooted in our present adult selves and parallel life experiences (and having fun), not just novelty or nostalgia. Although the nostalgia is fun, too - once I get past the uncomfortable images of hairspray-plastered bangs and Laura Ashley dungarees.

Best of all, it is satisfying to notice the measurable personal progress that I've made... since I no longer giggle uncontrollably whenever he gets close to me. Though he still has the uncanny ability to make me turn bright red...

Pushing Daisies

Sadly, ABC has canceled one of my favorite shows. Pushing Daisies was a unique, stylized, and charming show, unlike anything else I've seen on TV (except maybe the creator's other under-appreciated show, Wonderfalls).

When I first saw the ads for it, I wasn't interested. It was a weird looking show about a man who can bring the dead back to life for a minute. How would it help to bring someone back for only a minute? That's just playing with corpses. Ew.

But I happened to catch the show, and I was immediately won over. Extremely well-cast and well-written, the characters, the stories, every visual element, even the lilt of the narrator's voice fit a consistent creative vision for a product that was quirky, magical, heart-warming, and tragic, all at the same time. The colorful subtly vintage-inspired costumes (of course, I'm a sucker for that). The equally colorful just slightly cartoonish sets. The slightly ridiculous murder mysteries they solve along the way - at the circus, at the dog show, at the magic show, at a showroom for cars that run on dandelions, at a honey-based beauty product company where someone fell victim to a killer swarm of bees, and of course, the olfactory assistant who was killed when her scratch-'n-sniff book combusted.

How could we not love the former synchronized swimming aunts, Vivian and Lillian (Swoozie Kurtz), with their hit "mermaid" carnie act?! Or Olive Snook (Kristin Chenoweth), the "Pie Hole" waitress and former jockey, so worried she'll give away a secret that she goes undercover at a convent?! Or Emerson Cod, big gruff opportunistic PI, who spends his free time knitting and making pop-up mystery books?! And, of course, the bittersweet tragedy of childhood sweethearts, the once-dead bee-keeping girl named Chuck and Ned, the humble pie maker whose strange gift accidentally killed her father. A love that has precariously circumvented death, but is condemned to never be able to actually touch [sigh].

Right now, we need magical realism. We don't need more grim crime-solving shows lingering in the darkest parts of our society (much as I love them). We need to be charmed and delighted, and gently be made to feel longing and compassion.

Apparently, there are three more episodes that ABC may still air this summer. And we can relive it on the internet and DVD. But like Arrested Development before it (and My So Called Life, Sports Night, Studio 60, Veronica Mars...), it is gone before it's time. And it is entirely our loss.

Rest in peace, Pushing Daisies.

Why I Love My Job #147

Me: Quiet down back there, you crazy kids. You are getting too loud!

Good-natured middle school Ski Bus participant: Have you ever considered that you are too quiet?

Me: Well, no one has ever accused me of THAT before! Probably, you should just reel it in a little.

Kid: Yeah, you're probably right.

This, on the heels of the best ever Sound of Music Ski Bus Sing-a-long(!!). And getting paid to ski... Sometimes, I don't hate my life. :)

25 Things

There's a chain-letter like activity spreading like crazy through Facebook called "25 Random Things About Me". When someone sends it to you, you write a list of 25 random facts, habits, or goals about yourself. Then you send it to 25 friends, including the person who sent it you. It's a big online "get to know you" game.

Unlike many other viral fads, most people are actually doing it. Something about the format and the popularity make it worth the effort. I think we want to share ourselves. And there is beauty in the mundane details. Every list I've read has something delightfully surprising about the person and something that makes me feel a little less alone in my "hidden" foibles and neuroses. Here's my 25:

1. My greatest fear is going crazy/losing my mind/losing touch with reality. I honestly worry about it happening to me. And then I panic that I might really make it happen by worrying about it too much...

2. I’ve kept a list of favorite kids’ names since I was 12 (even through my phase when I wasn't sure I wanted kids), but I've started using them on pets (and cars) just in case I never get to use them on kids.

3. I am at my most content on the way back down a mountain with a happy dog at my side.

4. I have always wanted to be a foster parent.

5. I don’t think I like my cats (Oliver and Violet) as much as I should. I take their rejection personally.

6. I take everything personally. Or at least I used to.

7. I hate talking on the phone; I rarely answer it and often don’t call people back (please don't take it personally!).

8. I love Facebook because I can communicate with lots of wonderful people without the pressure of having to actually talk to them. And I love blogging because I can pour my heart out without the immediate risk of judgment or rejection. Yes, I hide behind technology. But I used to just hide, so I see this as major progress.

9. I really enjoy picking my nose.

10. I’ve watched General Hospital on and off for about 15 years, at times taping it daily.

11. I love to sing Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now” to my cabins/tents of kids at lights out, but I’m always terrified when I start it. Then they always love it (or at least don’t complain) which gives me faith in sharing your heart.

12. My favorite movie is easily Dirty Dancing. But one of my other favorites, the Philadelphia Story, is the one I usually claim in public.

13. I think there’s nothing in the world like someone sticking up for you.

14. I am often simultaneously confident that I know everything and convinced that I am completely wrong about everything.

15. I usually cry whenever I see someone else tear up. But I often have trouble crying when I am upset.

16. I'll drink champagne for any reason from celebration to misery.

17. My glory days seem to have been breaking summer swim league records as an 8 & under and starring in my middle school musicals. Oh, and winning Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle movie tickets in a hula-hoop contest at a St. Bridget’s dance in 6th grade - that was rad.

18. What I want to “do” with my life changes weekly, sometimes daily. Currently rotating between school counselor (again), art teacher, and interior designer. Or dream job: children's book author/illustrator.

19. I am very grateful that I love my current job so I have some time to maybe figure out what's next.

20. I wish people would ask me more questions, especially about the challenging things in my past.

21. I’ve been in love 3 times. And still love each of them.

22. I’ve never broken a bone or had a cavity (yet).

23. I’ve always wanted glasses for their fun fashion accessory potential.

24. I am afraid of the dark, and I have to sleep with a light on in the hall.

25. I am a often paralyzed by perfectionism (and typed this list in Word first).

Go ahead, make your own list... everyone is doing it!

Nesting

Well, I'm settling in. I've had a few "what have I gotten myself into/when do I get to go home" moments, but also, more surprising, "I kinda feel like I'm home" moments. I was right about the ghosts. I still expect to hear the excited barking from Millie and Winnie in the kitchen when I walk in the front door. (Luckily there are two little black cats waiting for me to soften the heart-wrenching blow.) I keep looking at the painting in the hallway expecting to see myself in the mirror that hung there growing up. All the while, I am battling confusion about what is childhood emotion and what is adult reality.

But the stress of the move, the inability to rest until I'm unpacked and settled, feeling the need to decorate for Christmas, and general holiday angst have caught up with me. I've gotten sick twice in two weeks. And having trouble keeping my head above water. One morning I was feeling so tired, sick, discouraged, and trapped that I couldn't stand up long enough to brush my teeth (at which point, I decided it was time to call in sick).

But after a nap, I looked at the bathroom (while finally successfully brushing my teeth), and for some reason, felt compelled to start painting it the mocha/gray I used in the bathroom of my last house that went so well with the dusty purple towels. I may have been influenced by my new 24/7 access to HGTV... And it felt so good. Creative outlet. A fresh start. While the color it was before was fine, I was making it my own. Re-bonding with and claiming the space, one square foot of wall at a time.

It felt so good, in fact, that I decided to see how the red paint leftover from an accent wall in my last house would look on the kitchen wall. Then the other walls. Pretty soon I had a red kitchen. It's kind of a shock. But I like it. It's a tiny little kitchen and the rich color makes it feel cozy and cottage-y.



I feel completely different about those two rooms. Amazing what some paint can do. Now I'm dreaming of a rich tan bedroom and a purpley-mauve dining room wall with a collage of old plates hanging on it...

Change

November 4, 2008. The whole day was electric with energy. People were a-buzz. Parties were brewing. I wasn't up to the big shindig downtown on a school night, so I took the invitation to watch election results at my friend the school librarian's house (and perhaps meet the young single nephew she's always talking about). I was optimistically buying champagne on the way, and the checkers said they were selling it like it was New Years. I think we could feel it happening.

When the official results came in, the choir director/composer in the group jumped on the piano and lead us in a rousing version of God Bless America and a few other patriotic standards. It was probably the first time I ever momentarily let go of the shame I usually feel about the awful things our nation has done and how we continue to treat the people around us.

As you may know, I had been leaning towards Hilary when this all started and thought Obama could use a few more years of experience at the national level. But my heart sang as if I'd known he was the one all along. Especially since the stock market crashed and everything seems grim... we need hope. We need a leader we can look to for wisdom, with natural charisma and magnetism - like what we saw during first speech at the DNC four years ago.

I though his acceptance speech was beautiful and perfect. Greatness happening in front of us. I drank in every word. And the feeling of victory was thick in the air, like we all just won the world series. I heard stories of people flooding the streets downtown so cars couldn't move, but drivers just got out and started hugging people. Amazing.

Justice. Finally someone other than a rich gray-haired white guy prevailed. And though I would never want to undervalue the great struggle that lead to this historic victory, what I love about the election of the first black man to this office is that often I don't even remember that he is black. Maybe that is another luxury of being a member of the dominant culture, but I feel like one of the victories here is that everyone is talking excitedly about Him, his words, his actions, his ideas... our admiration of him is transcending race and identity. It makes me hopeful that there really is a shift happening - towards our differences not being bigger than what we have in common and what we can do for one another.

(Then, of course, my buzz was completely killed the next morning by the news that things like Prop 8 passed... and I was ready to hurl judgment and hatred at people I don't understand all over again.)

What will happen? What can be done, really? Even by this amazing person, in this historic context. Our country is polarized and completely overextended. We need to reel our over-consuming selves way back in. Think small again. Focus on what is tangible. Create and exchange products and services on a local level. Focus on the people right in front of us; notice what they need. Share the burden, while being responsible for our own actions. Agree to disagree on a few things. Decide that getting our way is less important than getting things done. The only hope is if we can all be bigger, more emotionally generous people, right when we are feeling nothing but scarcity around us.

Change has come. It's exciting. But we forget that change is also really hard. Even good change comes with confusion and loss that are really easy to get lost in. Even I let my anger re-cloud my vision the very next morning.

I'm bracing myself.

I'm just glad that I'm moving someplace with a paid-off mortgage and space to grow some of my own food in the backyard. Just in case.

Greatest Love, Biggest Fear

It's been a while, but I finally got back out there.














I was ready for it. Mountains. Trees. Waterfalls. Wildflowers. Little scurrying friends. (Luring them with our best marmot impressions.) Views so wide you can breath deeper than you knew possible.

Except for the good old-fashioned panic attack in the middle of the first night when I woke up and freaked out that I was in the dark woods without walls to protect me from boogie-men. Vulnerable and exposed in the big dark unknown. But that's why you have best friends who you can show all the dark corners of your soul to. Who have seemingly limitless patience right when you need it, even in the middle of the freakin' night. Who tell you funny stories until the tranquilizers kick in.

So continues my battle to not be held prisoner by fear of the dark. Determined not to let my love for being outside be taken away my fear of being outside.

Even after living through a nightmarish visit from my own private demons, morning always feels fresh again. Thank god. We set out on what was supposed to be a relatively good, but super easy day hike (trying to be easy on my knee), but we slightly misinterpreted the hike description and serendipitously ended up in THE most beautiful picnic spot I've ever seen. We ended up with a 360 degree view of Baker, Shuksan, and other peaks all around us. Magical.

Later we tried to figure out how the Yellow Aster Butte trail head could have dared to actually lead us to a place called Yellow Aster Butte instead of the other place called Twin Lakes that we thought we wanted to see. Yes, we are that stupid sometimes. And that lucky.

Chaos and the Dancing Star

"One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star."
-Friedrich Nietzsche

Chaos has been swirling.
Back with a vengeance.
Playing a familiar old tug-of-war.

Defeated.
Convinced I am defective.
Desperate to be oblivious to these depths.
(Why can't I just be normal?!)

After a good while in battle,
Something starts working itself to the surface.
Chaos has knocked it loose.
To help me shed something destructive that I've clung to
for the illusion of safety.

When I'm ready to turn the corner,
I catch a glimpse of Hope.
I begin to lean forward.
And timidly reach out.

Life never feels quite as valuable
as in those moments
on the other side of Despair.
When my heart is freshly open.
And I understand that it is through shadow
that I know light.

Nina Luna Meets Project Runway

I finally got my hands on Project Runway, and now I can't get enough. Seriously. This, combined with the task of coming up with a Nancy Drew costume for my niece... and I'm off running.

I made a cute skirt reminiscent of the recent Nancy Drew movie look (hopefully). Headband and magnifying glass are on their way...

Now I'm on the hunt for a more vintage Nancy Drew look for myself for next Halloween. I already have the magnifying glass necklace. Now I just need the right dress/suit. Something very prim and proper 1940/50s with youthful full skirt. Perhaps plaid with a crisp white collar... Did you know they sell vintage sewing patterns on eBay?!

Inspiration is everywhere when I am tuned in. On the Nancy Drew quest to every local fabric store (it was incredibly hard to find plaid this time of year!), I got distracted and produced a purple and orange paisley corduroy skirt and a laminated cotton bag for Mother's Day!

Fun! Thank you Heidi and Tim Gunn (am I the only one who wants to take him home with me?!).
Make it work, people.
Carry on.

Lilac Watch 2008

I once heard a story about a woman whose life's work was her amazing lilac garden. She had many, many beautiful and unique varieties which she had collected and many hybrids that created herself. People loved her lilacs, so she often gave them lilac cuttings so they could take them home to grow their own. One winter there was a terrible storm and flood waters from the nearby river engulfed her garden and left it completely ruined. But slowly people heard about her devastation and brought back cuttings from the bushes they had started from hers, and she gradually replanted her garden again and restored it to its full beauty. I think you can extract the moral of the story.

(I think I found the real story about the garden which is actually just outside Portland. They say that people actually bought their starts from her and make rebuilding sound like no big deal. I'm going to stick with my romantic version.)

I think of (my version of) this story every year when the lilacs come out. That, combined with their old fashioned charm and the fact that they come in every gorgeous shade of purple imaginable, has made them one of my favorite things in the world. A few years ago I caught myself saying, "The lilacs have never been so beautiful!" Then it was pointed out to me that that I say that exact phrase every year. But every year I genuinely feel that way.

Several years ago I was down in Portland for Easter and the lilacs were in full bloom already. What happened this year? I know Easter was early but things have looked a little more like this...

Yes, that is snow in April in Seattle.

I think of lilacs as being in full bloom around Mothers Day, so maybe we are not that off schedule. But you have to agree the weather in Seattle is seriously wacky this year. I am in desperate need of Spring!!! Please.

But they're here. Take a look around. I found a few of my own lilac branches sprouting purple on the bush in my side yard (in the shade between houses, it's a little behind its cousins with sunnier real estate)...

Winning is fun.

It's true. Winning might not be everything. But it sure is a whole lotta something. Something super fun.

My volleyball girls played SO well this weekend. We experienced moment after moment of sheer delight and joy. Even the girls who have never been the strongest were passing with precision and pounding the ball down on the other team. Are these the girls who couldn't set a ball to save their life a few months ago?! Amazing what a little instruction and happy motivation can do. I am proud because I think I am actually learning to be a technically good coach and would like to think I've had something to do with it. But I am also so proud of them. With a heart full of love. Like the proud volleyball mama.

I've certainly grown along with them. The "playing time" dilemma nearly got the best of me. But I think I found where I am comfortable. I had to fight a few people around me to make things fairer again, but that felt noble. And I swear everyone started playing better when things got more equal again. Who knew?!

The semi-final game this Wednesday may well be our final game (I've seen the team we're playing, and it might not be pretty), but I think we will remember this season very fondly (angry parents and all) regardless.

My Love Affair with Bacon

It was bacon all week last week. No joke. It started with BLTs and root beer floats (the brilliant boy's idea), yum. Then eggs and bacon. And a strip of bacon here and there on the go. Another BLT for good measure. Then the clincher... the Bacon Party thrown by good friends.

The Bacon Party was lovely. Probably one of the loveliest parties I've ever been to - not just because of the bacon, but because of the mix of good friends to see again and really nice people to meet. Usually I dread "stand around and talk to people" parties. But I credit L & B, the hosts, for being two of the kindest, most genuine, and intelligent people I know, so I shouldn't be surprised when the people they surround themselves with are stellar as well. The brussels sprouts and kale I made (cooked in bacon fat, of course) turned out really well. I've never cooked brussels sprouts, but I thought it was a fantastic balance of seemingly opposite foods.

But as someone who has had so many painful issues with food and weight, allowing myself to savor something so devilishly good is simultaneously essential and a miracle. And I'm trusting those miles on the bike to start paying off...

Time On My Hands

For the record, it is very hard to think (much less write) about anything but dating right now, since my brain is consumed by the current deliciousness. Thank you blog for the opportunity to remember the other sides of myself that I've worked so hard to cultivate for at least a moment...

Life has actually been good. Although, a little romance tends to make just about anything rosier. We just had Spring Break. The kids at school all asked, "Where are you going?" Because we are all headed to some exotic tropical location, of course [yes, that is a hint of bitterness that you detect]. I answered, "To my couch." And pretty happily, actually.

My usual plan of attack for any open expanse of time is to dive onto the couch and indulge in the luxury of doing nothing. And "nothing" inevitably means television. But the TV binge usually ends up feeling like a hot dog does for me; a fun idea at the time, but empty and regrettable. I was determined not to feel like I had wasted this gift of time. It took me a while to figure out what I needed to for that to happen. Turns out shopping isn't entirely the answer (though I gave it a good shot). I realized that the first flash of intuition is usually the answer... I needed a project. Like the vacation when I locked myself in a garage with some power tools and came out with a bookshelf.

So I decided to finally make a skirt out of some vintage fabric I have been holding on to. I am lucky enough to have a finished room in my basement, and I have done my best to make it conducive to creative endeavors. Great color and inspiration on the walls. Convenient and attractive storage for lots of supplies. A big fold-out table to spread out on. But I can never actually get myself to use it. It's cold. Kind of dark. I'd rather lug everything upstairs for the slight distraction of the TV... Just more shades of resistance and perfectionism, of course. And a reluctance to be entirely alone with myself.

But I had a breakthrough. Did you know I have a whole room in my house just for creating things?! Somehow I was ready to quit making excuses. I turned on the lights, turned up the heat, and put on some music. And got lost (or perhaps found) in the work.

The cats loved it, too. They even tried to help - if you can call lying on top of whatever I am trying to work on "helping".