Lively

I'm sitting on the floor in my "studio" (really, the other end of a very long and narrow front room) listening to the littles as they watch Wallace and Grommit, their laughs and giggles and gasps punctuating the plot of the movie.  I should be cleaning, sorting, etc.  I've vacuumed up enough dog and cat hair to make another whole animal, the amount of dust and lint is rather appalling.  My mouth is sore, but certainly not as bad as I had expected it to be, thank goodness.

My mind is a bit spastic today, hopping from one thing to another.  As I cleared the stuff off the piano, I thought, perhaps I should post this on KSL and get it out of my house finally.  As I vacuumed the dog hair off the floor, I thought, I need to check the price on pine flooring and see if I can get some at a decent price and if I can, can I make it match the flooring that is in the studio?  I want some grapes.  Maybe I should write a blog post.  I wonder if the kids want popcorn.  And on and on.  Sometimes I think my mind would like me to anything but clean.  Because, obviously, I am not cleaning right now.  Blog post, yay!

It's hot and a bit muggy outside.  I wish it would just storm.  One of those dark, loud, banging storms, strobing with lightning.  I love it when the thunder is so big and loud that it shakes the house, but I remain cozy and safe behind my walls.  When I am cranky or wound up, a storm always makes me feel better.  As if the weather is responding to my mood and doing my yelling and fighting for me.  I like to curl up on my chaise in my window and watch it rage, and then I don't feel so like raging myself.

The past little while, I've felt more like raging than usual.  I've resisted, mostly, but only because I have to.  I've no one to rage at anyway, not really.  Small Daughter doesn't deserve it or understand it.  Teenage boy would probably just be scared of it.  Mike has had enough of it to last him three lifetimes.  Instead I knit furiously or scream into my pillow.  Alas, though, my pillow, while absorbing the raging quite well, doesn't ever respond and is, therefore, a less than stellar partner.  Venting to a pillow does have it's limits.

Fear not, though.  I am ok.  Just...ragey.  I'm working on being satisfied with the lot that is my life.  And I am reminded that it could be worse.  Of course, the fact that it COULD be worse, doesn't necessarily make this better, as it could also be better.  But, it will get better, somehow.  Either I'll get a raise, get offered a job closer to home with more money or Small Daughter will simply grow up and not need me quite so much anymore.  Then I won't feel actively guilty about not being around so much, right? Right?

Yep, I'm rambly.  Apologies.

Cranky Mamma

I had two of my wisdom teeth pulled today.  I know, I know, why now?  Who gets their wisdom teeth pulled at age 38?  Me, that's who.  And, ow, by the way.  I am sore and cranky.  I had to have the top two removed because they have been causing some problems with my jaw for a long time and the dentist thinks they may have been contributing to my migraines.  So, hallelujah if that's the case.  I could stand to have my migraines ease up.  Fortunately, said dentist doesn't think the bottom two wisdom teeth are causing any problems, which is good because they are completely encased in bone and it would be a beast to get them out.  The top two weren't horrible.  Well, not yet anyway.

So, being the sort of person that I am, busy and whatnot, I didn't think to clean my house before I had them done, because, you see, I clean on the weekends.  I wasn't really being the thinking ahead sort of person this week.   It happens.  Anyhow, so, got the wisdom teeth pulled, then went over to my mom's for a bit to lie down.  Small Daughter was over there being babysat, and it was easier to crash there than to try and bring her home and crash.  Besides, niece was over there, too, so it gave someone for Small Daughter to play with.

So, knowing my house was rather untidy, I wasn't looking forward to coming home.  Mike had removed the faucet in the kitchen earlier this week because it was right nasty and making our water smell and taste dreadful, but he hadn't had a chance to get a new one on.  I asked him to please make sure that got done before he went out of town, because the kitchen was starting to smell, due to the dirty dishes.  He texted to let me know he had gotten the faucet replaced and that the Boy was cleaning the kitchen.  (We have a 17 year old living with us now, in case you didn't know.  Nephew of Mike.)  So, I was looking forward to at least having a tidy kitchen, because I'm not supposed to do anything for the next couple of days.

Well, guess what?  Kitchen not clean.  Grr.  Sore mamma, angry mamma.  Face is puffy, kitchen smells, front room is a disaster, bedroom a bit of a mess.  We won't even talk about my studio, the nursery or the bathroom.  So, I popped a couple of ibuprofen and set to work.  Lame, I know, I lived with it messy all week, why did I care now?  Well, when I am in pain or upset or angry, I cannot abide a mess.  It just adds to the overall frustration and displeasure.  Knowing that I am going to be in pain all weekend, I can't just leave the disaster as it is.  So, yeah.  Kitchen is tidy (not clean, though).  Front room is tidied and vacuumed.  Bed is remade, laundry put mostly away.  There's still a basket to go, but I gave in.  I may regret this in the morning.

Why not take something stronger than Ibuprofen, you ask?  Being high on LorTab doesn't go well with having a Small Daughter to keep an eye on.  So, Ibuprofen and Tylenol during the day, blessed LorTab at night.  Wish me luck!  If it swells up amusingly, I'll post a pic.  Right now I can't tell if it's swollen or if that's just my regular facial chub.

Working hard or hardly working?

So, this being a working mum thing is not super awesome.  Don't get me wrong, I am very grateful to have a job I mostly enjoy that has health benefits.  I know those are hard to come by these days.  But, having been a (mostly) WAHM for the past 9 years, this full time work, long commute gig is hard.  And yes, I know Small Daughter is only 6.  Previous to her, I had my wee nephew full time at home while I worked.

Now, please understand, while I am lazy in many ways, I do enjoy working.  I enjoy the challenges that come in my line of work,  I enjoy creating things and I enjoy getting paid for it.  But, I also enjoy being home with my daughter, seeing how she grows and changes, letting her sit in my lap while I sew, or watch her copy me by draping dresses on her child size mannequin.  I enjoy her chatter, I like to know what she is doing and how she likes to do it.  And, you know what?  Those things are hard to accomplish when I leave for work at 7:30 am before she is even awake and I get home at 6 or later.  That doesn't leave much time for interacting with her, especially when I still have to take care of dinner and attempt to tidy up the house, maybe do some laundry.

This is the first summer that I have had to work full time away from home and I feel like I missed it.  We didn't do ANYTHING.  We didn't make it to the waterpark, didn't go on any trips, only went to the pool a few times.  It's disappointing and, of course, makes me feel like I am not the best mother that ever lived. 

There are too many things to worry about when one has to work full time.  Where do I put her in daycare?  If I put her in daycare, will that change where she has to go to school?  How do I choose the right school and will they even let me put her in said school?  Am I making enough money to pay for daycare?  If I have a family member care for her, will it cost any less and will I be overburdening them? 

I think it is probably a bit easier if one is making a decent amount of money at one's job.  It makes it a bit easier to choose a school, one can put the child in a good private school.  One can be more discerning when choosing daycare.  One doesn't have to worry so much about taking a day off here and there to take care of said child because, well, vacation, sick days and less of a need for that day's paycheck.

The thing is, I make an ok amount.  There are a lot of people who have to survive on less, and I honestly don't know how they do it.  Well, I expect they experience a lot of stress.  I experience a lot of stress just thinking about it.

Truth be told, I'm probably fussing about nothing.  I want what I want.  Which is to make enough money working part time to support my daughter decently, so that I also have time to, you know, RAISE her, myself.  She's my daughter, I want to be the one to help her grow up.

Loneliness or Solitude

Alone, lonely, solitary, solo, abandoned, individual, forsaken.  There are sundry words to describe it, to use for it, but they all mean something slightly different.  Which one am I?  It varies from day to day, I think.  Some days I am solitary, but not lonely.  Some days I am lonely.  Somedays, today, I feel a bit abandoned.  Forsaken.

12 years ago I was happily alone.  I was not completely solitary, I had roommates, friends, etc.  But I was ok alone.  I was happy alone.  I was GOOD at alone.  It was my life and I could live it the way I wanted to.

Fast forward to now.  I don't know how to be alone anymore.  11 years with a companion can do that to you.  You get used to their presence.  Heck, one year with a companion can do that to you, especially if that companion shares your heart.  You start to rely on them, not for anything specific, but for the fact that they are there.  Someone to talk to, someone who cares what went on in your day, someone to tell about your obnoxious visit to the dentist or the crazy actor you had to fit that day.  Someone you want to hear.  For their voice as much as anything they might say.  Someone with whom you fit.  Easy, comfortable, comforting.

And then?  It goes away.  The bond is broken or the person leaves.  And you are left with...what?  Loneliness.  It isn't the same as solitude.  I like solitude.  I don't like loneliness.

“How we need another soul to cling to.”
― Sylvia Plath

Language... has created the word "loneliness" to express the pain of being alone.  And it has created the word "solitude" to express the glory of being alone.  ~Paul Johannes Tillich, The Eternal Now
Loneliness can be conquered only by those who can bear solitude.  ~Paul Tillich

Geeks rule

I was a geek in high school.  Not popular.  Not cool.  None of that.  I didn't want to be, though.  To be perfectly honest, I thought those people were idiots.  Why would you want to be like them?  They were dumb.  And overly concerned with how they looked, what clothes they wore, what bag they carried, etc.  I was more concerned with getting into college.  Plus, I liked smart people.  Especially since I was a smart people. 
Things haven't changed.  I'm still a geek.
And just to prove it, check out my awesome shoes.  My brother painted them for me.  It's ok, you can be jealous.  See, even geeks think about the clothes they wear.  They just like things a bit...nerdier.

Ride the Rails

I ride the train to work most mornings.  Not because I am particularly green or anything, although I am somewhat, but because I do not like to drive.  On a traffic free day, my commute is about 35 minutes driving.  On a normal day, it is around 45-50 minutes.  On a bad day, 90.  In my mind, that is a lot of time spent staring at the road doing nothing useful.  Sure, I listen to NPR, but I'm just sitting.  And I don't just sit very well.  I like to be doing.  Sadly, the highway patrol frowns on knitting while driving.  And so, I ride the train.  The lovely Utah Transit Authority recently revamped the schedule of the train that I take, adding more trains and adding an extra car to said trains (thank goodness) and so I gave up my usual spot on the last car and exchanged it for one on the first car.  My reason for the change is simple.  Not very many people ride the first car, and fewer people is fine by me.  I am not one of those travelers who likes to converse with a seatmate.
The other rail cars on the train are new, with that chemical new car type smell.  They have new blue fabric seats, clean white paint, chrome and grey plastic.  All shiny and new.  The added car?  Not so much.  It was built in the early 70's and they didn't upgrade it or change it.  Maybe UTA just ran out of money, maybe they just thought it was retro cool.  And, it is.  It's my favorite car.  There is so much more personality in it than in the sterile, industrial feel of the new cars.  Brown vinyl seats, industrial tile floor, luggage racks, heavy sliding door (that will totally take you out if you aren't watching), the works.

And, it has that smell...not a bad one...of must, and age, and people and time and energy.  There's a vibe in that rail car that doesn't exist in the shiny new double decker cars.
I sit on my brown vinyl bench seat alone, next the window and things are different.  No longer am I just a commuter in the rush to the daily drudge.  No, I'm a traveler, on my way to somewhere exciting.  Perhaps off on a cross country adventure.  Perhaps off to see long missed family members, or to meet a lost lover.
As I watch the scenery whip by, with the houses and cars just a short distance away, I imagine what it would be like to be whisked off on a long distance rail journey and wonder who or what would be waiting for me at the end of the line.  Will I end in a lonely hotel while I look for a job?  Will I find friends and family waiting for me?  Or will I step off the train into the arms of the eager lover?
And so, I sit back, and I enjoy the feeling and the journey, which ends all too soon at my station and my job.

The Last Plantagenet

I suppose, in the grand scheme of things, it isn't really that big of a deal, but the finding of Richard III's body gives me an inordinate amount of pleasure.  Now, I will grant you, that is the nerd/geek in me talking.  My facebook feed was full of references to it.  Which says something interesting about my friends. I think there were two or three posts about the super bowl and the rest of it was Downton Abbey and Richard III.
And, it seems appropriate that such a villainous king should be laid to rest under something as ignominious as a carpark, does it not?
Perhaps he wasn't quite as villainous as we think.  Well, as some think. I'm willing to be a large number of you don't think about him at all.  Ever. But I do.
It is said that many of his crimes were falsified and/or attributable to someone else, with the exception of the Princes in the Tower.  But isn't that enough to make him a villain?  The murder of two innocent boys, one of them the Crown Prince and only 12 years old, to boot?  Fat lot of good murdering those boys did him, anyway, he only reigned for 2 years.  He could have been Edward's regent for longer than that.
Dear Richard,
Karma's a bitch. You killed the boys, you end up in a car park.
How's that for fair play?
Love,
Fate
Now, they just need to tell me they've found the actual remains of King Arthur and I can die a happy woman.  To be sure, they'd have to figure out exactly who King Arthur was, first.
Want a good read about the History of the Plantagenets?  Check out the series about them by Thomas Costain.  It's fascinating, starting with Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine and ending, of course, with the death of Richard III on Bosworth Field and the subsequent succession of Henry Tudor.  It's confusing as all get out, but is definitely worth the read.
A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!  Or this carpark, it will do as well.