Little Glimpses

It's possible that the slightly manic phases that I have in which I actually do what I'm supposed to do, including shower, dress, check the mail, fertilize the garden, bake, knit, write, etc., are not a sign of impending mental illness, but are the self-actualization of what I thought this stay-at-home business would really be like.

Is that even possible?

I struggled and struggled, trying to find balance and peace.  And couldn't, so therefore, I immediately deemed myself a failure.  But lo, after 14 months, a glimmer of light.  Balance is for sissies.  The only times I've felt really committed and kick-ass at this thing is when I've run myself ragged either in the house or the yard or the world beyond.  I KNOW - sounds crazy, right?  But there's something so seductive about crossing something off the to-do list.  And even more seductive is crossing off more things.

What that should tell you is that moms who work full time AND do this shit are superhuman.  And by that I mean super from the Latin meaning over and above.  How did I ever do it?  How?  The answer is, I didn't.  I was exhausted.  And all my plants were dead.  And we ate at Sonic four days a week.  But it was the best I could do.

I'm still doing the best I can.  And I still miss teaching -- a lot.  And I'm still exhausted.  I'm just kicking ass in a different kind classroom.

And I'm good with that.

Austerity, Day 6

We went to the Longhorns game today, for which I was WOEFULLY UNDERPREPARED.  No, not for the football, for the food.  I hadn't eaten anything except for a cup of yogurt and a cup of coffee.  Now, if you're keeping track, that means that both my calorie and my caffeine levels were low.  Dangerously low.

So, I fixed it with a soft pretzel.  And a 44 ounce Diet Coke.  And we're not going to address the nachos either.  Or the pizza for the sleepover.  Let's just pretend this never happened.  It's a fucking miracle I haven't had anything to drink yet.

There's still time.

Austerity Days 3 and 4

I am really awesome at this austerity thing.  Except for the gluten part.  So, I've been obsessively reading these English and Australian blogs about crochet and gardens and other really delightful things.  And one of the most wonderful things about those folks is that fact that they really do drink tea.  All the time.  And they always have a little snack for tea.  Every afternoon!  So, since I'm reading about it, it only makes sense that I should partake as my new bloggy friends are partaking.  

So, yesterday and today, I had a blueberry muffin (whole grain and homemade, but a muffin nonetheless).  And it was awesome.  

So there.

Austerity, Day 2

Today, I thought I was going to die.

When I woke up, I thought the headache was just one of those stiff neck headaches I get when I do shoulders at the gym.

And then I thought it was just sinus.

And then I thought I might have a brain tumor.

And then I wanted to throw up.

And then I saw stars.

And then I had to lie down.

And then I couldn't even make dinner.

And then I realized I hadn't had any caffeine since 7:30 am.

And then I drank a cup of black tea and took an Excedrin for migraine.

And then I watched the election returns.

And then I watched Mitt Romney's speech.

And then I watched Barack Obama's speech.

And then I watched all the talky people talk about Mitt Romney's speech.

And then I watched all the talky people talk about Barack Obama's speech.

I don't think I slept, but my head didn't hurt anymore.

Afternoon tea has a purpose.

Lesson learned.

Austerity, Day 1

I had a wonderful weekend.  G and I took a little girls' trip down to Houston.  S was booked all weekend with band trips, and T was still working on our new, architecturally-rendered (if by architecturally rendered you mean using the free Google app to design and measure and then pretty much making it up from there) shed, so I thought I'd go see my mom, who I haven't seen since June (!), and dad.

Any trip to see my parents necessarily involves the ingestion of a fair amount of alcohol.  Usually because we're enjoying each other's company.  Occasionally because we're driving each other crazy.  Regardless, my people come from a long line of people who enjoy a glass of the grape. Or the barley.  Or potato.  Or juniper.  Or whatever, really.  And we're really good at it.  Because we practice.

Anyway, I had an absolutely super time with my folks, saw some great, old friends from high school.  And ate.  Ate at all my favorite Houston places that I don't ever get to go to anymore. Ate road food on the way home. And I ate all the things I never let myself eat anymore, project-wise and health-wise. And that's when the party was over.  Because, today . . .

I. Feel. Like. Shit.

I can't do it.  I can't eat like that for three whole days, and I certainly can't drink like that.  So, since we've already delved into fiscal austerity, I've decided to take the plunge into nutritional austerity.  It's like my very own episode of Hoarders or Intervention.  Except I'm not saving others.  I'm saving myself.  Well, that, and I have no tattoos and all my teeth, but otherwise, just like that.  No alcohol.  No carbonation.  No nighttime gluten.  Seven days.

Pray for me.

In the Hood

I was at the corner convenience store yesterday, getting my daily Diet Coke.  In front of me at the register was a man buying not one but TWO forty-ounce Fosters Lagers and a large bottle of Pepto-Bismol.

As I went out to the car, I noticed that he was wearing a t-shirt that said "Innovative Business Solutions."  Indeed.

You can't make that shit up.

Apple. Tree. Haiku.

This was my mom's response to my Halloween Haiku:

As for Halloween
I didn't like it either
Too many children

I am not making this up.