i n m y m i d d l e

Hey

2009-03-19T12:35:00.003-04:00

I've moved!!! Now blogging over at http://www.thinlinedesign.com/blog
See you there. Thanks :).

I miss summer

2009-02-26T23:58:00.000-05:00

photoblogging again

2009-02-21T13:42:00.001-05:00

Spent the holiday weekend in PA, visiting friends and family. Amtrak got us there cheaply, and others ferried us around. Good to see all.

They boys were mostly rapt in their attention on Papa reading. Fynn was the exception and distractor.

Getting old fast.

Off to nap after housecleaning as my parents arrive this afternoon and I of course feel the need to tidy up. And clean sheets were not on the negotiable list, as I can't even tell you how long it's been. We don't do sheet changing around here, sorry.

Tired more because I ran another race this morning, a 5k this time but had to run 5k to get there, then another 5k home tho I walked about a mile of that. Working on salvaging a sore/twisted back that wasn't helped by starting/stopping my run several times.

Lots of stuff still going on in my head. Depression, worry, wondering what's next, needing sun, yadda yadda.

catching up

2009-02-11T00:31:00.002-05:00

posted over here, and over here several times. the week is sludgy feeling, I'm still in a muddle, and going and spending a lovely gift certificate over here this afternoon helped only a wee bit. perhaps when I actually make something with what I bought I'll feel better. last night involved lots of barf (d was sick), little sleep, and an fridge/freezer defrosting that was required due to our #$%#$ freezer that sometimes doesn't shut quite perfectly, gets all frosted up over the vents to the fridge part, and then the fridge gets absurdly warm as it gets no cold air. have to empty/defrost/dry out/ the whole thing about 2x a year. at least it was fridge-temp on the porch and we could park stuff out there for a few hours!

off to bed, field trip w/D's class tomorrow. that's them above. oh, had F's parent/teacher conference today which went as expected. having one for a two-year-old seems a bit silly. other than random hitting of his classmates for no apparent reason, he's doing just fine.

crafting

2009-02-07T19:16:00.000-05:00

In an attempt to spend less time here and feel better about life, I've started bookmaking again. Coptic has been the choice the last few days, and the first two attempts are below. Very basic, two-needle stitching with soft covers. I want to get into wood covers and handmade paper, but need to learn the stitching patterns and tension and all that. These took about an hour apiece, start to finish ... Fynn's art supplied the covers, and I used embroidery thread as I don't have proper bookthread yet. Not recommended, it frays and gets snagged much too easily when you're resewing out the same holes.

I love that you can bind anything together that you can poke holes in, and it doesn't use any glue or mucky stuff like that. I hate using spray glue though it's handy sometimes. The white pages in the book in the top photo are old photocopies of michael's doodles, so there's random stuff scattered throughout.

waiting

2009-02-04T22:51:00.001-05:00

I've been waiting a lot lately.
... to figure it out, the why-am-i-so-frustrated-and-moody-and-sad part
... to find my heart and talk to it
... to get a real winter snow
... to find more patience
... to decide what to do with my coaching and my other site
... to find some enthusiasm again
... to get my first two half-frozen-marathons over and done with
... for more sun
... for a mentoring kind of friend to show up here
... to find ways to be creative again
... to learn to slow down
... to not feel guilty
... to stop saying sorry for awhile
... to find the next roach
... to eat crab rangoon
... to go out with a friend on an alone night instead of going to the movies
... to get really grabbed by a book
... to go to bed early
... to learn coptic binding
... to not feel tired or caffeinated
... to hear about M&B's twins
... to post pics of D's robot creation

I've found some of the answers. Some I'm waiting for no discernable reason. Some I'm getting clues about.
I've been posting more over here than I have here. I'm glad it's February. I'm glad the sun is still slanting across the streets when I'm bringing the boys home from school. I'm glad they both performed at school last Friday, and enjoyed it. A reading in class and a song on stage for D, a guitar solo on stage of Jingle Bell Rock a-la-Cobain by F, so said the witnesses. I'm glad I have two boys. I'm glad I spent half an hour in the park alone late last night, thinking and making a butt-tingling snow angel. I'm glad I'm ready to crawl into bed.

You know you're my kid when ...

2009-01-27T11:01:00.002-05:00

You have a 50/50 chance of being the one who was dutifully picking up the raisins you spilled this morning, and then screamed in fear and dropped the large wiggling “raisin” with antennae you found under the desk. You now fondly refer to this as the “raisin-bug” incident, and mom refers to it as the “time to have the landlord call the exterminator again” incident. Enough said.

You have “just a minute” on the list of your first words.

You know that mom CAN be silly, but doesn't really like to be, and that she gets cranky when you're silly most of the time.

You hear “come Here if you want help!” from the time you can walk. Unless you're screaming bloody murder of course.

You know “you'll be ok” because mom tells you that all the time. For now you believe her.

You have climbing into a warm bed with two in-denial-about-the-clock adults down to a science. You know that a sure way to get them up, and get in trouble, is to dig your elbow into a bladder or an eye.

You know the intense pull of a book, ANY book, and the frustration of being dragged away from it. You know mom understands because she does the same thing, but it doesn't seem fair at all.

You know mama runs a lot, and you have an inkling that sometimes she's running away. She always comes back though.

You still think home haircuts are cool. Or you don't know what a haircut is yet, and eat your hair as much as your food.

You understand guilt well, and are able to use it to your advantage, long before you know what the word means.

You know how to hold grudges, and long to be teased out of them. You often are. You learned from a master sulker.

You feel frustrated by how much is going on in your head, and never have enough time to get it all down/out/explained.

You talk early, and often.

You eye doctors with curiosity and awe, but believe almost all medicine comes in spoons, eyedroppers, and teas. You don't know yet this makes you unusual.

You get frustrated very easily, especially by things that don't work the way you think they will. You express this vocally and loudly.

You remember every promise or implied promise, and are devastated if mom doesn't.

You love unconditionally.

You're a lightweight who'd rather snack all day than waste time at the table eating a meal.

You love to make gifts and give them to your parents.

You expect to understand things and be able to figure them out. You also expect to be able to do them well right off the bat. You don't get “having to work hard for something” very well yet. You're learning though.

You know mom putting you to bed means a storybook, and dad putting you to bed means a homegrown tale of mystery and intrigue. You still fuss when mom says it's her turn.

You have Alone Time down pat, and don't mind your parents taking it as long as you get full attention from whichever parent is home. You know both are more indulgent when the other isn't home.

You dream big. You are beautiful. You are stubborn. You are creative. You are intense. You are dramatic. You have dancing eyes and a ready laugh. You hardly remember life without a brother.

Your mom expects you to need therapy when you get older, and is coming to terms with it. You don't know this yet, but you do know she expects a lot of things of you. She's sorry for it. She expects the same things of herself.

You remember Farmer's Market Saturdays, the big rock at Fort Greene Park, summer sprinklers, water balloon fights, quesadillas, the Co-op School, kombucha, Sunday night singing, visiting cousins and family and the ocean, petting Dominic, Mister Charles, having housemates, Chinatown afternoons, the Brooklyn Bridge, the lego stash at Aunt Ruths, and fireworks in Prospect Park.

You are amazing, adored, humbling, frustrating, mirroring, stretching, and mine to raise.

-----------------------------
cross posted over here. yes I've been quiet lately. chewing a lot on my faith and how I show/share/feel about it.

another random

2009-01-16T21:27:00.000-05:00

for good measure

2009-01-15T22:13:00.000-05:00

happy thursday

2009-01-15T22:05:00.000-05:00

He also loves to play and sing ...

2009-01-11T15:04:00.001-05:00

he looooooves to draw

2009-01-11T14:33:00.000-05:00

Good Enough

2009-01-07T20:13:00.005-05:00

This post has been brewing for a couple weeks, and is part of the silence. I had a conversation with a friend about 2 weeks ago that touched off something in me that I was totally unprepared for. A couple of comments were made questioning some things I'd decided to do, which made me angry. I let that be known, and then a couple other things were said that made me feel incredibly sad, but I had no idea why. It had to do with my writing and ability to share feelings, but my reaction was utterly out of proportion to the comments made. I melted in a puddle, got off the phone, and proceeded to mourn for 24 hours. I felt levelled, flattened, and broken. I finally got a handle on what I'd 'heard' (not what was said, but what my brain filtered it into) and came up with "you're not good enough". I of course added "nothing you do is ever good enough" to that from my own well of feelings that I think go back to early childhood.

Once I labeled what had triggered the meltdown, I started to try to figure out where the feelings came from. They go WAY back, but not quite as far as I can remember. I've almost always felt I had to please everyone, and in order to do so I had to do whatever was "good enough" for whoever was watching. For whoever I thought was watching. Teachers, parents, meeting, family, friends. My measuring stick was based on other people's expectations, not my self-confidence (which wavers wildly, and mostly is much much lower than it appears to be to most people) or my "best" really. Just what was expected of me. I didn't give too much thought to what God expected, not really having a clue as a kid what that was, though I assumed he expected perfection and not much else.

I've known for eons that my standards for myself (and immediate family, sigh) were never ever high enough, and if I'm in danger of satisfying them, I raise them. I'm never good enough for that consortium of ridiculous expectations, so just keep trying to do better and just keep feeling guilty. I feel horribly guilty if I disappoint anyone. More so if it's family or friends, but pretty much anyone counts. I'm good at imagining disappointments. I had a client awhile back who I felt like I wasn't really able to help much at all, and given the averages of things, having a client like that once in awhile isn't really all that surprising! But I felt awful for weeks. Low, guilty, burdened, like I'd done something wrong. Not good enough. Nothing worse than not being good enough.

I'm rather sick of holding myself to other people's standards. I grew up with several sets of standards, which didn't help the issue. The home/family standard, the school standard, the grandparent/laborer standard, the meeting standard ... you get the idea. The rules were not all the same, and I became pretty adept at switching gears, but it helped me wander pretty far away from being me and working with God, and knowing why I chose to do what. What was good enough to keep all the judges satisfied with me? I saw them all as judges, keeping me up to par and holy enough, smart enough, and submissive enough to pass muster.

My confidence seems based on whether or not all judges/observers are happy with me. Whether I've done what I promised or more realistically what I think they expected me to do. I learned a looooong time ago how to fake it. How to pretend I was confident, feel entirely unprepared or able to do something, but started out on it anyhow in the hopes that the ability/road would appear under my feet. It often worked, and masking my fear and trembling would turn into genuine confidence once the thing seemed solid enough or close enough to being finished to be trusted. I approach almost everything that way. It works, but it makes everyone else think I'm more confident than I am. I deliberately sign myself up for things I'm scared of (public speaking, running 26 miles, etc) and know that the shame of 'failing' at it or disappointing someone will be enough to keep me at it until I think I've conquered it. Bloody expectations.

I'm tired of the expectations game, but have no real idea how to stop playing it.

2008-12-29T21:32:00.000-05:00

expectations

2008-12-28T14:36:00.002-05:00

Happy weekend between Christmas and New Year’s! Things have been all over the place here, meaning very little has gone according to plan or expectations, but ~~we’re moving right along~~ I'm trying. Both boys woke up several times in the night before Christmas, and so none of us slept well. Douglas woke up Christmas morning with a huge barking cough, a fever, a super sore throat, and the desire to do nothing but lay on the couch and sleep and whimper. Poor kid, he didn’t enjoy much of anything that day. I stayed home from the Christmas dinner we were to all go to, at the house of one of his best friends, and we got cozy and watched The Polar Express instead. His presents were opened sporadically throughout the day, with a couple smiles but no enthusiasm. I confess to being pretty irritable about it, feeling a bit gypped myself. I ended up falling asleep at 8.

Friday was good, and I’d arranged a few days before to spend the night w/a girlfriend whose family was out of town. We were to hit a movie, have some wine, and stay up late talking. I’d planned to come home in the morning after my run and a swing past the farmer’s market. As I was walking out the door after dinner I discovered that my dear husband had forgotten to tell me that the job he’d started that day was a rush one and they’d have to work right through the weekend. I had to be home by 8am. All of a sudden a relaxing night with no real deadlines turned into a ‘get to bed at a decent hour so I can get up and home’ kind of night, a whole other thing to me. My expectations had to be reset, and it wasn’t easy. I ended up ditching the run and market, and getting 5 hours of sleep. It was still great to get away, but somehow it seems harder and harder to reset my expectations as I get older. Why is that so hard? I really count on those few hours away to balance out my time at home. I hadn’t really taken time away, except for errands a couple nights, for a month. I hate that my balance is so fragile that I start to fall apart if some bit of me-time disappears, or social time with other adults gets removed. I hate that I even have those expectations and needs, but I do. There’s guilt attached, a lot of it. Guilt for needing to be away from my kids. All that. I tell myself I should be grateful he's got a week of work after two months with none, and I am. But it doesn't cancel out my need to be alone at times, and that feeling increases when it's vacation and I have both boys 24x7 for two weeks.

On the other hand, I had one strange but certain expectation fufilled, and it was fabulous! I had Douglas enter a coloring contest online, and when I downloaded the sheet for him to color I had a 98% sure feeling he’d win. Totally random drawing, no way I could be sure, but I had that insane certainty. Sure enough, I looked online Christmas day and he’d had his name chosen as the winner of a new scooter. I told OMSH, who ran the contest, that she and God made a great team :). Unreasonable expectations that were competely met! It’s only happened to me a couple of times in my life, but each time it’s been right. He was delighted, and it means that he can throw out the old partially-fixed one we’d salvaged from the neighbor’s trash last year that never worked right. I’d call that a blessed Christmas!

(mostly cross posted from over here)

Updated to add as of Sunday: Fynn and Michael both have the fever/chills/hacking thing going on now, and D is better but still hacking a lot. At least I managed to get a run in before M left for work, only 45 min but I did more exploring of a new 'hood and stopped for a couple minutes in what's becoming my very favorite place to talk to God ... the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge. I even had it to myself today which was even better. I dragged the hacking boys to the store to stock up on juice and lemons and a couple other things, then worked on D's puzzle with him and then played Candyland before sending him to bed with a book and a flashlight. Did I mention it's 63 degrees here today?!

a step in the right direction

2008-12-23T00:25:00.000-05:00

Made this yesterday as part of a prize package. My 2nd ever sewn binding, and the first 'exposed' one with the stitching showing on the spine. I love making books. Michael got me a ream of paper and a paper cutter for my birthday, and also ordered me a book on bookbinding techniques (Vol II from this set). I want to get the whole set eventually. D is going to get a couple handmade ones for christmas, for his inventions, recipes, and songs. he loves making his own with staples, just like i used to with stickers and paper and twist ties while hiding under my chair during meeting.

I see the sun ...

2008-12-16T22:58:00.000-05:00

... even though it's snowing.

blah

2008-12-09T13:34:00.000-05:00

I've been super blah for days now, and it takes effort to do just about anything. I'm depressed and fighting off panic at the finances, which are as bad as they've ever been. M has had no work for close to 6 weeks now, and for a family that lives literally paycheck to paycheck, it's not fun. I'm struggling to leave it with God, but not just sit here and watch it all collapse around me. I don't know how to balance those two things. I'm making myself post today but really want to crawl back into bed. M's at the studio as he has been a lot lately, and I have a wee bit of work for a Chicago client to do which I'm thankful for. I only have two clients at the moment, one of which I don't seem to be able to help at ALL and it's driving me nuts. I know that happens sometimes, but it's hard to have when it's half my clientele.

D had his first real research project due right after Thanksgiving, and had to do a poster about an older relative. They interviewed, found/drew pictures, wrote about it, and then presented it to the class with a Q/A at the end. He did a great job on Uncle R, and presented with poise that I've never seen in him before. He's growing so fast in so many ways, not just in the pants-too-short way. He'll be 7 in 3 months. He reads voraciously, and fusses a lot if ever stopped from reading before he's ready. Which reminds me, the READ-A-THON for his school is over tomorrow, anyone want to sponsor him?! It's been a month of reading, and we're counting pages and looking for per-page pledges or just a flat donation. The proceeds go to his public school. He has one more day to go, and has read 1204 pages so far in the last 29 days. Yes he reads a lot! Money is due by the 18th if ya want to pitch in.

I slept in the other morning, not wanting to get out of bed yet again, and was met with these when I finally got up. We have face-paint-markers, and they'd gone to town.

Yes he reads too, but so far only pictures. He's more interested in drawing than just about anything, and is starting to draw and name recognizable things. He gets frustrated if he can't make what's in his head and wants me to draw it, but I generally refuse. I'll find him whatever it is if we have it, and put it in front of him instead. Daddy gives in and draws his requests pretty often, they've been spending a lot of time drawing together as M's been home so much.

my ham

2008-11-29T22:50:00.000-05:00

This child takes so much after his father it's not funny. He makes things up, entertains, and generally performs most of the time. His teachers at school asked me last week where he gets his voices. When asked to go point to their favorite color on the wall, they all dutifully went and pointed, but when it was F's turn he went up growling "Broooowwwwwnnn" in a very monster-ish voice.

These shots are from his latest performance, known as being either an Old Lady or a Fynn Lady. Not sure where that one came from but it's enjoyed. The video will have to wait, I'm too tired to upload to YouTube tonight. I spent hours between yesterday and today rescuing 300 photos off the camera as the memory card got damaged the other day.

Not as pitiful looking as his sick sibling, but he tries.

There'll be days like this, mama said

2008-11-29T22:31:00.002-05:00

D was sent home sick from school on Wednesday, as he threw up in class and felt miserable. I got the call as I was helping clean up at the Thanksgiving potluck at Fynn's school, so bundled Fynn up and headed over to get D. We had to wait in the entryway for him to come from his class, and he dragged himself down the hall looking miserable, and didn't make it halfway down the first block home without throwing up again. Thankfully it was shortlived, as he was well enough by noon the next day to make it to Thanksgiving dinner after all :). I confess to loving getting photos of him when he's sick, as I get a side of him that never is capture otherwise. The calm/internalized side.

One of my all-time favorite shots of him is the one below, taken after his raging stomach infection was starting to clear up when we were in Ecuador, just before he turned 2.

He scared me that time with his fragility and misery, he'd never ever been subdued like that before. This week it wasn't scary, just quiet and a bit sad. He's recovered 100% and was just as insanely hyper today as ever :).

Van Gogh made me cry

2008-11-21T14:25:00.000-05:00

M and I played hookey on Wednesday, and went to the MOMA for the day. Both boys were in school, M still has no work (not a good thing at all, tho he's getting lots of studio time which is nice), and his badge from MASS MoCA gets him and a guest into any museum for free. Not a bad deal in a $20/person town like this one!

There's a special exhibit running there on Van Gogh, called Van Gogh and the Colors of the Night. It focuses on his night paintings, both indoor and outdoor. They span his 10-year painting career from 1880 to 1890, and A couple of them utterly captivated me. Part of it is the undercurrent longing I've got for being more connected to the earth, and working for a living more than a lifestyle. His studies of the working poor and the farmers and laborers really suited my mood. The first room had this painting as one of the main features, and looking at it brought tears to my eyes. Of course I felt self-conscious and quelled it asap, but there was no denying the feeling of complete longing to be in that scene at that moment. Rest after a day of work, simplicity, my absolutely favorite time of day, and the light in the window. The feeling he was able to put into the canvas isn't done justice in this photo at all, it's a very dark painting and the colors are subtle and hard to photograph. This was the best image I could find online, but it's still not giving the true feel.

He was a Protestant preacher (after his father was a Dutch Reformed minister) before becoming an artist, his brother supported him through his entire career, and he only sold one painting (to his brother) in his lifetime. Trying to decipher his life, thoughts, and feelings from the work and the few details in the gallery was fascinating. It also made me understand M and his work a bit better, though I doubt I'll be getting any ears in the mail any day soon. The passion and sensitivity make for a pretty potent cocktail. Getting lost in a painting, or more accurately lost in the feeling that you're trying to convey in the painting ... I'm getting glimpses of the power of the passion.

Making Butter

2008-11-20T22:09:00.000-05:00

I stumbled across some blog the other night (sorry I can't remember where) and found directions for making home-made butter. I've always wanted to try it, as we'd picked up a couple gallons of raw milk while in MA, I gave it a shot the other night. It was easier than I expected, and not that time-consuming either. You just chill the milk, skim the cream, set it out on the counter for up to 12 hours while it ripens a bit and starts to sour a wee bit, then shake it till butter forms, drain off the buttermilk and rinse it, and work in some salt!

The mass of butter after about 10 minutes of shaking ...

The rinsed clumps ...

The finished butter :). It didn't make much at all, but I was inordinately pleased anyhow.

Now to find a way to get more raw milk!

Sol LeWitt Opening

2008-11-20T20:49:00.003-05:00

Last weekend M and I went to the opening of the exhibition he worked on for 6 months of this year. My cousin (thanks R!!) came down to babysit, and gave us her car to use to get back/forth to North Adams. So nice not to worry about kids or transportation!

I, as usual, left the clothing issue till the last minute. No dresses suitable for an afternoon art opening that morphed into an evening dinner/dance/Steve Reich performance with lots of museum patrons and old money and artists. I had a black dress I'd bought for some wedding over 10 years ago, and felt ill-at-ease in it. I had to feel comfortable. I went mad dress shopping with R the afternoon before we left, and ended up settling on a red calvin klein satin thing that was cute but not perfect. Red's not quite my thing, but the black version was a size too big. I got black heels too, as the only wearable shoes I had at home were navy blue pumps and there was nary a blue thing in my closet. Black shoes and a red dress didn't make me happy, but I was desperate.

Once I got up to MA, after leaving R with a fridge that wasn't working and needed defrosting (why this happens to us all the time I have no idea, but it does.) and taking forever to get out of the house, I was able to relax a bit. At this point I really started having issues with the dress. I knew my obession was driving M a bit nuts, but if you're a women who rarely dresses up, you probably know what I mean. I had to feel comfortable, sexy, and not too conspicuous. I'm not a stand out of the crowd dresser, but I don't want to be totally nondescript either. The red was too strong, didn't work with the shoes, and too formal and not funky enough.

So Goodwill it was. Saturday morning after my run (delicious to run familiar hills again, remembering what they felt like pre-marathon) we went to the Goodwill that I'd frequented while we lived there, and used for things like toys and kitchen stuff. It's small, and I didn't have much hope of finding something wearable and appropriate, but figured it was worth checking and almost anything was better than the red dress at that point. I prayed on the way over, and then started shuffling thru the racks. I found a couple things that I could bear to try on, but no real hopes. The all bombed out. I took one last pass thru the store, and on the end of a row of black pants found something that looked strange. It was a skirt, misfiled, that was almost floor length, black of course, and fitted with slits up the side. A bit of hope. Over to the tops rack, a couple different black tops, and I snuck back into the dressing room. It all worked, and I was comfortable! I couldn't decide between the tops, and so got both. At 2.99 apiece it wasn't hard. With an umbrella as it was pouring rain and we had none, the total came to 11.99. Not bad!

We grabbed a quick lunch and then home to change. I ended up wearing the semi-sheer top with it, as I actually had almost perfect underwear to go with it, and strapped on the heels and was ready to go. The heels took a bit of getting used to, especially on my beat-up-missing-4-toenails feet that were still a bit sore from the marathon. When we walked in the door I was SOOO glad I wasn't wearing the red. I felt perfectly comfortable, and except for some underwear slippage that I won't detail any further, it was perfect! (the red dress was returned yesterday, and I grabbed a movie and groceries with the refund.)

I don't have any pictures of the galleries as I didn't want to be burdened with the camera and forgot to bring a purse. They can all be seen here. Michael worked mostly on the scribble ones, and on a couple painted ones which you can see in timelapse here if you want, with lots of blurry Michael. We wandered around in the crowds, and he answered some questions as he was recognized due to his mustache and it's visibility in the installation video playing in one of the rooms. A few famous faces, lots of familiar ones, and seeing the work cleaned up and finished was a delight. They only served champagne, white wine, and water as any red wine spills would have been rather disastrous.

Then on to dinner, in a red-draped room full of the patrons, installers, and the museum/yale crowd. We were placed at a table with an art historian, some patrons, and I'm not sure who else. I had a ball talking to the lady to my left, whose kids were grown and who reminded me a bit of one of my aunts. We yakked for ages. I didn't have much to say in the art parts of the conversation, as that was Michael's territory, except for one comment that I couldn't keep in. One of those times when I have something to say that I have to get out before I forget, except I didn't know what I was going to say until I opened my mouth. I had the feeling, but not the words. That happens occasionally ... well often if you count the times I just babble, but this time I actually was able to describe something (the difference between Sol's work and someone like Miro) in a way that was succinct-ish and made sense. Perhaps the wine helped?

The food was good but not stunning, and before dessert there was a peformance by Steve Reich. I'm not fond of his music, but it was better in person than recorded. Incredibly repetitive, with slight variations, and a perfect match for Sol's work. My neck hurt from craning around in my seat to watch. He did a clapping piece which I enjoyed, and then an 8-bongo piece that taxed my patience.

Dancing came next, and while it took me awhile (and a trip to the bar) to work up my nerve (I'm SO selfconscious) I had a most excellent time. The cleared the tables, and I eventually decided I didn't care, felt the music, and ditched my shoes. I think I danced more than Michael, which is a bit of a miracle as he's a bit of a dancing fiend when he has the chance. He found the music not quite to his liking so he spent some time talking too. I managed to get his boss to come out on the floor for a few minutes which took a bit of convincing, and it made me laugh because he spent the whole time analyzing it instead of dancing, which is so me it was funny. I was able to enjoy rather than overthink it for once :).

Can you tell I enjoyed myself?! We both had an excellent time, and reconnecting with the friends we'd both made up there was great.

We didn't get to bed till very late, and had a hard time getting out of town the next morning as we went to get breakfast, picked wild grapes I'd spotted on my run the day before, returned keys to the free apt we'd gotten (!), found the left-behind sweater, resaid goodbyes as we kept running into people, and stopped at the farm to pick up raw milk and cheap maple syrup. We were pretty late returning the car to R, who had a long drive home, and hopefully she's gotten caught up on sleep herself. I haven't enjoyed myself that much in years I don't think.

too funny

2008-11-17T13:10:00.001-05:00

Your result for Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz...

You Are a Grace!

You are a Grace -- "I need to understand the world."

Graces have a need for knowledge and are introverted, curious, analytical, and insightful.

How to Get Along with Me

Be independent, not clingy

Speak in a straightforward and brief manner

I need time alone to process my feelings and thoughts

Remember that If I seem aloof, distant, or arrogant, it may be that I am feeling uncomfortable

Make me feel welcome, but not too intensely, or I might doubt your sincerity

If I become irritated when I have to repeat things, it may be because it was such an effort to get my thoughts out in the first place

don't come on like a bulldozer

Help me to avoid my pet peeves: big parties, other people's loud music, overdone emotions, and intrusions on my privacy

What I Like About Being a Grace

standing back and viewing life objectively
coming to a thorough understanding; perceiving causes and effects
my sense of integrity: doing what I think is right and not being influenced by social pressure
not being caught up in material possessions and status
being calm in a crisis

What's Hard About Being a Grace

* being slow to put my knowledge and insights out in the world

* feeling bad when I act defensive or like a know-it-all

* being pressured to be with people when I don't want to be

* watching others with better social skills, but less intelligence or technical skill, do better professionally

Graces as Children Often

spend a lot of time alone reading, making collections, and so on

have a few special friends rather than many

are very bright and curious and do well in school

have independent minds and often question their parents and teachers

watch events from a detached point of view, gathering information

assume a poker face in order not to look afraid

are sensitive; avoid interpersonal conflict

feel intruded upon and controlled and/or ignored and neglected

Graces as Parents

are often kind, perceptive, and devoted

are sometimes authoritarian and demanding

may expect more intellectual achievement than is developmentally appropriate

may be intolerant of their children expressing strong emotions

Thanks to CC for the idea :).

Yes, a lot of this hits close to home ... especially the last Parenting part. hmmm.

in other news, we had a most fabulous weekend away, in MA for the Sol LeWitt opening, and a few pics will be forthcoming shortly. I haven't enjoyed myself so much in I don't know how long. And my feet, which were still recovering from the marathon, are now recovering from dancing also. Good times :).

Take Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz at HelloQuizzy

BGG on a holiday

2008-11-11T18:44:00.003-05:00

Veterans Day, cranky kids, camera, Brooklyn Botanic Garden, fun.

Did I mention that D insisted on bringing the facepaint markers along?