The other day I updated my status on Facebook with "Heather is.....having mean thoughts". It caused quite a furry of comments....all concerned for my wellbeing. Thank you for those thoughts. I appreciate them. Truly. Unfortunately (or fortunately) the bad thoughts were directed elsewhere!
Mike and I were at pizza...cuz I have given up cooking on the weekdays....and we were next to a group of youngish women. Being together for nearly 8 years, I have given up on scintillating conversation over very tasty pizza. This night I was forgoing conversation to be listening to the conversation happening at the next table.
Like I said, a group of youngish women enjoying their time together. I guestimated they worked together. I scrutinized the ring fingers and it was about half and half. With their backs toward us were two of the married ladies. I didn't really get to see their faces. The third with her back to us was a blonde of larger statue. I was sharing this story the other day and I wanted to reference when Anna Nicole Smith was at her zenith, but I think the end of her life/career kind of overshadowed that. But she was not petite but she had an air of class about her. The reason I point out her size was that she was the only one who wasn't under a size 10 and wasn't overly dressed. She was in black and her beautiful blonde hair was pulled to one side. I watched the chef and our waiter look over at her. I knew it was her they were watching because she got up to use the restroom I imagine and their eyes and conversation followed them.
The women facing us were definitely under 25 and dressed for an evening. The woman in the middle was a black woman who was very animated. Without any hint of racism, I notice black people. Utah is predominantly white...that is no secret. But after going to dinner with a friend of mine and his white wife, he let me know that it really is an isolating feeling being black in Utah and they do tend to support each other....but they are alone in some respect. I was struck by her eyes and her enthusiasm. The two women who flanked her were unremarkable per se. But they were all of the cute stature.
I say this with the bitterness of the ostrasized fat chick when I was in any school! I am aware I have not moved past this youthful debilitation. I know it is dumb. But there are times when it smacks you and you slam back 20 years! I never fit in during High School but I am not sur emany of us felt we did. Even the popular people could quote times when they feel they were struggling with those around them......nah...calling bullshit on THAT one.
So I am listening to these women talk about their office and the workings. Moreso I was trying to figure out what they were doing. I mean it was Thursday night. The blak woman seemed to be leading the group. She was talking about the cool new club and the other women were agreeing and sharing what they knew....she was talking about something which occurred today and the other women chimed in. It was just a lively conversation.
Then it happened. I have told this story so frequently that I really am trying to stay true to the moment. The woman looked around the group and kind of stretched out her hands encompassing all and said "I am soooo glad no one here is ugly". Swear...that is what she said. Immediately I thought "OOOOH, not all of you escaped that". Hmmm...truly I cannot guarantee what stopped me from gasping out loud at her audacity. Now me being me, I figured it was a funny moment & she looked for a laugh...nope. There was quiet. Silent agreement I perceived.
I looked at Mike who was blissfully ignorant enjoying his mozzerella and tomato salad. I looked back at the women. The disgraced 15 year old stood up inside me....somewhat Mad. "I am sorry I am so ugly, Mike". I want to interject here. Mike told me that I would extend his delayed response for dramatic impat to 10 minutes. But truly he looked at me...looked around...and was quiet...for about 2 minutes. Then he said fairly matter of factly "You are the most beautiful woman in the world". I rolled my eyes. But the 15 year old glowed! Of course I am!
I went to work and told this story to the youngish man who is truly still looking for women like the ones I saw. I told him the story. He too, rolled his eyes when I said I was ugly. But I said that HONESTLY the reason why he paid $135 (yup) for a pair of jeans was to indeed ensnare women such as those I observed. It quietened him somewhat because most probably I was right.
As our evening came to pass, and we were leaving, Mike held my arm as we were leaving telling me not to mind them. The 15 year old was totally wanting to say something intelligently and slyly degrading which they surely wouldn't get for years! I could do it! It would be redemption.
Then I grabbed the arm of my beautiful husband who was still glowing, not from the attention of his beautiful wife, but the amazing pizza....and we left! "I don't know why you focus on people like that. They really don't enjoy life. Let them go on!".
Laugh...like I have said recently, I don't know what to do when Mike is Normal, but I can certainly adapt! Enjoy your beautiful 15 year old!
Be great to you!
H
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Cereal
OK....so I went to the store feeling uninhibited. Not naked and be loud uninhibited, but "buy whatever you want Heather" uninhibited. To complete any ugly mental images, there is no way I could lack enough inhibition to be naked in public...loud most assuredly...but not naked.
For some reason, when I am feeling uninhibited in a store, the first place I go is the cereal aisle. I figure now that my mom has been gone for 5 years, I can now freely say what a poor food parent she was. That is totally not true but I figured I would sound like an embittered child because we were forced to eat sugarless cereal and powered milk!
Yes powered milk. I can imagine that NO ONE reading this has consumed powered milk with some regularity. Let me revisit the process of recreating milk from powder. Get yourself a 2 gallon container and get yourself 2 cups (no more no less) of powder. Now to offer a bit of complaint here...due to being a Navy wife on an extremely limited income, my mom didn't get "top of the line" milk powder...instead it was generic powered milk. As a note, Carnation (top of the LINE example of powered milk) did and still does carry powdered milk.
I offer up a tedious explanation regarding the quality of said powder because my mother's constant explanation to generic items was almost a mantra "You can't tell the difference". Right. The story of the generic peanut butter with the arabic writing on the label from the discount story is for another day.
The first few glasses of the putcher of milk were watered down and the last one (depending on who made it) was extra thick. I qualify on the "who made it" because my brother had a different perspective regarding the necessity for careful preparation of powdered milk. Here is the way Heather took her time to create the milk....cold water...a little on the bottom first then adding a partial amount of the powder and more water....stir VIGOROUSLY....then add more water and the remaining powder. Done. Rick's way: dump in powder....put in water...put in fridge...stirring only to guarantee anyone watching has seen would say he had stirred it. Certainly a more disingenuous way to create a beverage for the whole family to consume. I will say with decided certainty that the times where you would pour the milk and receive a resounding plop of unreconstituted powder. Yah...I will never forget that sound and the icky feeling I would get.
Unsugared cereal. Cheerios and Rice Krispies...that is what we would get. If we were lucky we would get Sugar Smacks...I think. I can't recall what my behaviors were when I would eat cereal, but I can recall my brother showing me the syrup of sugar a a result from him sugaring his sugarless cereal. It was almost a victorious smile on his face when he would show me. God love him.
When my sister was older, we got Golden Grahams and Honey Nut Cherrios (hunny nunny as Shawn couldn't pronounce it properly as a toddler). I felt gypped. SHE got Hunny Nunny Cherrios and we got generic rice crisp cereal.
I went away to college for a year when I was 20. Being away from home was tough for me. I am a momma's girl. I recall walking into the cafeteria one of the first days feeling very much pathetic and without hope for being away. Then I saw it. I swear it twinkled in the morning light. It stood about 6 feet tall and had a small almost inconsequential sign....on that sign read "Captain Crunch" in somewhat careless hand. At that moment, I felt it was going to be all right...all ok. ENDLESS BOWLS OF CAPTAIN CRUNCH....could you IMAGINE. With REAL milk? Dear God was there a LIMIT on how many years one could attend and bask in these luxuries? It was all good.
Walking through the store as a free uninhibited adult, I looked at the Family Size of Captain Crunch WITH crunch berries. OH YAH BAYBEEE....I put one in my cart. I was satiated. I am currently without any Captain Crunch with or without berries...so I am a bit on a edge. I have yet to feel the necessity to replace my box yet. Part of the delay is guilt from childhood that I don't need it. Coupled with the fact that Michael is eating healthy as of late and the guilt has increased as I get organic fiber cereal so my grasp to Captain Crunch has stuttered.
As I move on, I must pose a question to all....What is a Crunch Berry? When I was a kid there was a red crunchberry. Now there are 4 colors...wow. I am overstimulated by the array. The same level of magnificitude has also occurred with Lucky Charms....oh gosh...there are so many! Kids today are SOOO lucky. If there is any doubt just walk down the cereal aisle.
Be great to you
H
For some reason, when I am feeling uninhibited in a store, the first place I go is the cereal aisle. I figure now that my mom has been gone for 5 years, I can now freely say what a poor food parent she was. That is totally not true but I figured I would sound like an embittered child because we were forced to eat sugarless cereal and powered milk!
Yes powered milk. I can imagine that NO ONE reading this has consumed powered milk with some regularity. Let me revisit the process of recreating milk from powder. Get yourself a 2 gallon container and get yourself 2 cups (no more no less) of powder. Now to offer a bit of complaint here...due to being a Navy wife on an extremely limited income, my mom didn't get "top of the line" milk powder...instead it was generic powered milk. As a note, Carnation (top of the LINE example of powered milk) did and still does carry powdered milk.
I offer up a tedious explanation regarding the quality of said powder because my mother's constant explanation to generic items was almost a mantra "You can't tell the difference". Right. The story of the generic peanut butter with the arabic writing on the label from the discount story is for another day.
The first few glasses of the putcher of milk were watered down and the last one (depending on who made it) was extra thick. I qualify on the "who made it" because my brother had a different perspective regarding the necessity for careful preparation of powdered milk. Here is the way Heather took her time to create the milk....cold water...a little on the bottom first then adding a partial amount of the powder and more water....stir VIGOROUSLY....then add more water and the remaining powder. Done. Rick's way: dump in powder....put in water...put in fridge...stirring only to guarantee anyone watching has seen would say he had stirred it. Certainly a more disingenuous way to create a beverage for the whole family to consume. I will say with decided certainty that the times where you would pour the milk and receive a resounding plop of unreconstituted powder. Yah...I will never forget that sound and the icky feeling I would get.
Unsugared cereal. Cheerios and Rice Krispies...that is what we would get. If we were lucky we would get Sugar Smacks...I think. I can't recall what my behaviors were when I would eat cereal, but I can recall my brother showing me the syrup of sugar a a result from him sugaring his sugarless cereal. It was almost a victorious smile on his face when he would show me. God love him.
When my sister was older, we got Golden Grahams and Honey Nut Cherrios (hunny nunny as Shawn couldn't pronounce it properly as a toddler). I felt gypped. SHE got Hunny Nunny Cherrios and we got generic rice crisp cereal.
I went away to college for a year when I was 20. Being away from home was tough for me. I am a momma's girl. I recall walking into the cafeteria one of the first days feeling very much pathetic and without hope for being away. Then I saw it. I swear it twinkled in the morning light. It stood about 6 feet tall and had a small almost inconsequential sign....on that sign read "Captain Crunch" in somewhat careless hand. At that moment, I felt it was going to be all right...all ok. ENDLESS BOWLS OF CAPTAIN CRUNCH....could you IMAGINE. With REAL milk? Dear God was there a LIMIT on how many years one could attend and bask in these luxuries? It was all good.
Walking through the store as a free uninhibited adult, I looked at the Family Size of Captain Crunch WITH crunch berries. OH YAH BAYBEEE....I put one in my cart. I was satiated. I am currently without any Captain Crunch with or without berries...so I am a bit on a edge. I have yet to feel the necessity to replace my box yet. Part of the delay is guilt from childhood that I don't need it. Coupled with the fact that Michael is eating healthy as of late and the guilt has increased as I get organic fiber cereal so my grasp to Captain Crunch has stuttered.
As I move on, I must pose a question to all....What is a Crunch Berry? When I was a kid there was a red crunchberry. Now there are 4 colors...wow. I am overstimulated by the array. The same level of magnificitude has also occurred with Lucky Charms....oh gosh...there are so many! Kids today are SOOO lucky. If there is any doubt just walk down the cereal aisle.
Be great to you
H
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Daisy's Story
As I type now, Daisy is walking on my desk top investigating the new layout. I know she is looking for the helicopter I use to torture her. Why do I allow her on my desk...can't say. It certainly isn't convenient. I think it goes back to one of my sister's cats we had when I was in my last 3 months of college. She would sit on my desk during the late hours and watch me write (no computer over 15 years ago) and type. She was a Siamese mix so I don't want to say we connected because Siamese cats need NO human. But it made my nights easier. As with Tori then, Daisy just wants to be where stuff is happening!
Right now she is standing in front of the keyboard so I really can't see what I am typing. She is smelling the chocolate on my fingers which skews my typing. And looking DOWN at Bo who cannot be on Momma's desk. She is Daisy and this is just what Daisy does.
We went to dinner tonight and struck up a conversation with the young fireman and his girlfriend sitting next to us. They could see Daisy's picture on the front and stated "You have a Jack Russel?". My immediate response was then as it is most times "Do you want her?". That always elicits a laugh. Why do I want to offer up my youngest to strangers??? She is a JRT (Jack Russel Terrier for those NOT in the doggie know). She is smart, she is active, but she really has to be the center of IT.
Here is Daisy's story. 3 Christmases ago Mike was at his zenith of puppy mode (almost as bad as baby mode). "You got to pick out your two dogs, I want a dog". True, the boys were then as they as now...mine. They operate in a pod. They lay down when we do....they chew their own chewies...and they don't argue to be put to bed...my perfect boys. So, Mike went through the breeds he wanted....West Highland Terrier, an Irish Wolfhound, and a JRT. I put the deal on the table before he left work....Dallas Cowboy tickets or a Jack. His call. He left slammed with the giddiness and responsibility of a choice....a tough choice.
He had rules in choosing the new puppy. I wanted my Daisy Duke...so it had to be a girl, she had to be white (my boys are black) and there was a budget. I was still at work when I got the call and email. He had found her. 90 miles north....could we go tonight??? His excitement was infectuous. I got the cash from the ATM and we left. I felt as close as I ever have been to making a drug deal. I had a wad of 20's and in the dark of night I was going to a singlewide trailer (no lie) to get something.
I called my mother in law on the way & told her we were expecting....she said "I hope to God you are getting another dog and are not pregnant". Aren't mothers in law grand??? My sister was going to our house after she was done with work to see the new addition & help with the introductions to the boys.
There was some concern in my head when I saw the mom jump. I mean straight up nearly 4 feet. In my head I quickly reviewed the back yard...oh what had we done. She was tiny, white with a perfect little brown ear, and she went to Mike immediately. It truly was his dog from then on. The woman asked us questions about where the newly crowned Daisy would be living. I patted my belly and said "No one in the Davidson home starves". She watched Mike hold the then princess, and got a bit weepy. We left with Mike promising to send pictures. We started the 90 minute drive home.
I still have the first picture I took in the car of Mike holding the barely 2 pound Daisy. Black outlines each eye so they looked huge on her little face. I call her my Goth dog as her "lips" are outlined in black as well. All you could see was eyes and the brown ear but Mike was happy.
Now as I look at the troublesome little shit now, I understand how she got that way remembering the house she came in to. Mike didn't want to put her down into the maelstrom of black. I have a picture of me cradling her letting the boys smell her and her them. I can imagine in her little head a red WTF warning flashed and triggered the FIGHT mechanism....forgetting the flight, just the fight! She never turned back.
There are videos of her trying to come down the stairs and being PISSED I wouldn't help her. I am sure it just exacerbated her frustrations to have me laughing at her. She would run after the boys as they chased balls always too small, bitching as loud as she could at me when they wouldn't allow her to play.
At this point the boys were in the guest room all day. As I did with Bo, I kept Daisy in my bathroom. I figure any mess she would make on the tile floor would be easily cleaned. She HATED not being with the boys. I could hear in her head "I AM NOT THE BABY!". That first winter we would lose track of her. Any one who has trained a puppy knows that an unseen puppy is a pooping and peeing puppy. What we learned about Jacks is that they are colder than most dogs. She could easily be located laying as pathetically as the Matchstick Girl on a heat vent.
As she grew, her fiestiness continued. She would NOT be bossed by the boys. Bo was here first but SHE was here now. Regardless of these just being dogs, there is a pack hierarchy needed to be established. When it was just the boys, it seemed to be a non issue....with Daisy it was on the agenda...DAILY.
Now at 3 she is what she is...an opinionated, nervous, and attention seeking pushy broad....OH MY...who's dog is she???? Let me tell you. Mike leaves for work at 5. He gets up and lets the dogs out. When they come in, Bo goes under the blankets for warmth....Luke lays on Mike's pillow....Daisy lollygags as Mike showers waiting to follow him as he dresses. She waits in the kitchen as he gets ready to leave then stands at the front window and watches him leave. THEN she comes to bed. Mike has his dog.
Strange little habit Mike's dog has. When we fight, yah like you don't, Daisy reprimands Mike when he yells. All 12 pounds of her gets right up in it and barks "Leave my Momma alone!". I will say that at times it truly has stopped the fight as we are both laughing at her insistence. Mike is perplexed. But I reiterate that I am the alpha dog...I am the feeder, the caregiver and the enforcer...so she protects me. She is his dog but reports to me in the pack. I LOVE THIS. Mike still says he is the alpha dog....YES YOU ARE HONEY...ask Daisy!
Be great to you!
H
Right now she is standing in front of the keyboard so I really can't see what I am typing. She is smelling the chocolate on my fingers which skews my typing. And looking DOWN at Bo who cannot be on Momma's desk. She is Daisy and this is just what Daisy does.
We went to dinner tonight and struck up a conversation with the young fireman and his girlfriend sitting next to us. They could see Daisy's picture on the front and stated "You have a Jack Russel?". My immediate response was then as it is most times "Do you want her?". That always elicits a laugh. Why do I want to offer up my youngest to strangers??? She is a JRT (Jack Russel Terrier for those NOT in the doggie know). She is smart, she is active, but she really has to be the center of IT.
Here is Daisy's story. 3 Christmases ago Mike was at his zenith of puppy mode (almost as bad as baby mode). "You got to pick out your two dogs, I want a dog". True, the boys were then as they as now...mine. They operate in a pod. They lay down when we do....they chew their own chewies...and they don't argue to be put to bed...my perfect boys. So, Mike went through the breeds he wanted....West Highland Terrier, an Irish Wolfhound, and a JRT. I put the deal on the table before he left work....Dallas Cowboy tickets or a Jack. His call. He left slammed with the giddiness and responsibility of a choice....a tough choice.
He had rules in choosing the new puppy. I wanted my Daisy Duke...so it had to be a girl, she had to be white (my boys are black) and there was a budget. I was still at work when I got the call and email. He had found her. 90 miles north....could we go tonight??? His excitement was infectuous. I got the cash from the ATM and we left. I felt as close as I ever have been to making a drug deal. I had a wad of 20's and in the dark of night I was going to a singlewide trailer (no lie) to get something.
I called my mother in law on the way & told her we were expecting....she said "I hope to God you are getting another dog and are not pregnant". Aren't mothers in law grand??? My sister was going to our house after she was done with work to see the new addition & help with the introductions to the boys.
There was some concern in my head when I saw the mom jump. I mean straight up nearly 4 feet. In my head I quickly reviewed the back yard...oh what had we done. She was tiny, white with a perfect little brown ear, and she went to Mike immediately. It truly was his dog from then on. The woman asked us questions about where the newly crowned Daisy would be living. I patted my belly and said "No one in the Davidson home starves". She watched Mike hold the then princess, and got a bit weepy. We left with Mike promising to send pictures. We started the 90 minute drive home.
I still have the first picture I took in the car of Mike holding the barely 2 pound Daisy. Black outlines each eye so they looked huge on her little face. I call her my Goth dog as her "lips" are outlined in black as well. All you could see was eyes and the brown ear but Mike was happy.
Now as I look at the troublesome little shit now, I understand how she got that way remembering the house she came in to. Mike didn't want to put her down into the maelstrom of black. I have a picture of me cradling her letting the boys smell her and her them. I can imagine in her little head a red WTF warning flashed and triggered the FIGHT mechanism....forgetting the flight, just the fight! She never turned back.
There are videos of her trying to come down the stairs and being PISSED I wouldn't help her. I am sure it just exacerbated her frustrations to have me laughing at her. She would run after the boys as they chased balls always too small, bitching as loud as she could at me when they wouldn't allow her to play.
At this point the boys were in the guest room all day. As I did with Bo, I kept Daisy in my bathroom. I figure any mess she would make on the tile floor would be easily cleaned. She HATED not being with the boys. I could hear in her head "I AM NOT THE BABY!". That first winter we would lose track of her. Any one who has trained a puppy knows that an unseen puppy is a pooping and peeing puppy. What we learned about Jacks is that they are colder than most dogs. She could easily be located laying as pathetically as the Matchstick Girl on a heat vent.
As she grew, her fiestiness continued. She would NOT be bossed by the boys. Bo was here first but SHE was here now. Regardless of these just being dogs, there is a pack hierarchy needed to be established. When it was just the boys, it seemed to be a non issue....with Daisy it was on the agenda...DAILY.
Now at 3 she is what she is...an opinionated, nervous, and attention seeking pushy broad....OH MY...who's dog is she???? Let me tell you. Mike leaves for work at 5. He gets up and lets the dogs out. When they come in, Bo goes under the blankets for warmth....Luke lays on Mike's pillow....Daisy lollygags as Mike showers waiting to follow him as he dresses. She waits in the kitchen as he gets ready to leave then stands at the front window and watches him leave. THEN she comes to bed. Mike has his dog.
Strange little habit Mike's dog has. When we fight, yah like you don't, Daisy reprimands Mike when he yells. All 12 pounds of her gets right up in it and barks "Leave my Momma alone!". I will say that at times it truly has stopped the fight as we are both laughing at her insistence. Mike is perplexed. But I reiterate that I am the alpha dog...I am the feeder, the caregiver and the enforcer...so she protects me. She is his dog but reports to me in the pack. I LOVE THIS. Mike still says he is the alpha dog....YES YOU ARE HONEY...ask Daisy!
Be great to you!
H
I am UP!
For some reason my head is full of wonderful ideas. I now have an outlet, and I appreciate all who may or may not be interested but will read.
This week I moved my "office" around. I have always moved furniture. Frustrated creativity I suppose. But I love the energizing feeling of things looking totally different. I remember as a kid I shared a room with my brother for a while. So you had two of us, our beds and whatever effluvia comes with that. With me at one time it was a 7 foot long desk top mounted on 4 foot high steel legs. I can't say where I acquired it from, but I painted it blue. I nestled in to my desk and area. I am a Cancer and our STUFF creates our comfort. I can still picture what my desk and environs looked like. I can say that with over 20 years having passed because my then teenaged brother sketched it. I would like to say (he doesn't read this so I can) that he doesn't work with his creative talents in an obvious way, he instead is logical, methodical and works with his hands.
I have kept his sketch all of these years (though its current whereabouts are not known) to review my habits. Let me elaborate. When I was 15 I found GQ! Now back then, it was somewhat more butch. In an effort to enjoy the male form, I got a subscription. Seriously for 3 years I got GQ. What did I do with the magazine??? I bought HUNDREDS of map tacks (yah, look it up) and hung up the pictures on my wall. For those who saw 16 Candles, the cute boy, JAKE, hung on my wall for nearly a year before the movie...Michael Schoeffling. Not a stalker, but an appreciator. I remember sitting in the movie asking my friend if she had seen the actor before...no. I went home pondering, this niggling familiarity bothering me. A few days later I looked up from my desk & THERE WAS JAKE! Quite magnificently covering more than one space on my wall....I know how Molly felt in the move...sigh.
Other than the boys, I had a teddy bear, my drawing and caligraphy pens, and then my calligraphy. "The Moral Majority is Neither"...."Would you mind very much if you took your silly ass problems down the hall?"..."Feminism does little to equate as much as it does to emasculate."...are a few I recall. I felt LIBERATED as a youth to take profanity and make it beautiful with my calligraphy. Whatever my parents felt about me using THOSE WORDS I think my mom was just relieved I was creating! I had an acrylic picture square I had purloined from my dad. The pictures were held in with a foam insert. What my brother's sketch doesn't show is that the foam square is hollowed out & it was an nifty little storage space for stash...I felt so cool!
I haven't changed with my nestling. Under my computer screen is a shimmering little mound of Kooshes. LOVE THEM...can't find them any more but LOVE THEM! I must have them. I remember living WITHOUT a television in my first apartment in downtown Portland sitting in the dark and juggling the glow in the dark kooshes. Yes I was sober! I have my little sayings not done in my calligraphed hand but nonetheless in their specific places to motivate. My little Ikea light which I love. My pens, less so for drawing now but for bill paying. One little wonder to appear this time was my 3 inch tall wooden bowling pin trophy from the 72-73 "season" where my average was 69. I went to the state championship that year! My mom didn't have the heart to tell me later that I was included so they could have a handicap bowler to manage the score. I barely remember going, I do remember the shirt. Really did have velvet printing...Heather on my barely burgeoning breastlet. I felt cool.
A few new things on my desk are for doggie torture. A mini remote controlled helicopter which I fire up every so often to make Daisy think Satan is here. I also have a Cadbury Bunny which clucks. Luke runs from it...Daisy & Bo are incensed by it! LOVE IT! This desk is different than my childhood desk. I don't sit at it & dream of what I will be...instead I sit and deal with what I have and how to get through until tomorrow. The creativity and passion has dissapated for organization and bill paying. The desk wasn't painted blue, instead I made sure there were places to store receipts, passwords and grown up effluvia. My drawing pens are there and in a cute container sadly more of a decoration than a necessity as they were over 20 years ago. There is a pece of art my friend Julie made me hanging over my desk which makes me smile.
My husband has a space where he nestles. We found a beautiful big oak desk for nearly little cost (because of it we can never move, huge) and his recently added 46 inch tv (THAT story is for another time). I will be critical of his space. In this beautiful desk there is NO PEN & PAPER. Dear GOD man....what craziness is THIS. "I can store it on my computer"...which he does. He has a MAC. Dear God that is wierd. But on his "pads" (they can't be pads without PAPER) and "note" areas (again no paper) he keeps passwords and such. On the rare occasions where I do sit at his desk, I rave internally for a GOD DAMNED PEN & PAPER. None. Drives me nuts...but to him he is nestled. He has a Japanese quote....whichever hat he is wearing waiting on the corner...and his mini LSU football helmet. I query now if there is a picture of us on his desk but the hypocracy of there not being one of us on mine glares.
My desk at work is also my nestling place. I have pictures, cards and stuffed animals to keep me grounded OUT of the workplace while I am there. I have 4 pictures of my husband there. they are a beacon as to whether I like Mike or not. If they are face down, I am avoiding. If they are in the drawer....he had better be hiding. When he worked at the same place it was more entertaining now. I have a teddy bear there that Mike gave me when he was sucking up which holds up the collection of dog pictures. One of each, it isn't a scrapbooked collage (sorry to sound snide, just not me). I look at the surrounding desk of my employees and peers. What their desks say about them.
I look at my desk at here & pause to run my hand over my koosh. They remind me to find the 16 year old with the 7 foot desk she knew lead her to other places in her head where the little Slyvia Plath kid could be happy!
Be great to you!
H
This week I moved my "office" around. I have always moved furniture. Frustrated creativity I suppose. But I love the energizing feeling of things looking totally different. I remember as a kid I shared a room with my brother for a while. So you had two of us, our beds and whatever effluvia comes with that. With me at one time it was a 7 foot long desk top mounted on 4 foot high steel legs. I can't say where I acquired it from, but I painted it blue. I nestled in to my desk and area. I am a Cancer and our STUFF creates our comfort. I can still picture what my desk and environs looked like. I can say that with over 20 years having passed because my then teenaged brother sketched it. I would like to say (he doesn't read this so I can) that he doesn't work with his creative talents in an obvious way, he instead is logical, methodical and works with his hands.
I have kept his sketch all of these years (though its current whereabouts are not known) to review my habits. Let me elaborate. When I was 15 I found GQ! Now back then, it was somewhat more butch. In an effort to enjoy the male form, I got a subscription. Seriously for 3 years I got GQ. What did I do with the magazine??? I bought HUNDREDS of map tacks (yah, look it up) and hung up the pictures on my wall. For those who saw 16 Candles, the cute boy, JAKE, hung on my wall for nearly a year before the movie...Michael Schoeffling. Not a stalker, but an appreciator. I remember sitting in the movie asking my friend if she had seen the actor before...no. I went home pondering, this niggling familiarity bothering me. A few days later I looked up from my desk & THERE WAS JAKE! Quite magnificently covering more than one space on my wall....I know how Molly felt in the move...sigh.
Other than the boys, I had a teddy bear, my drawing and caligraphy pens, and then my calligraphy. "The Moral Majority is Neither"...."Would you mind very much if you took your silly ass problems down the hall?"..."Feminism does little to equate as much as it does to emasculate."...are a few I recall. I felt LIBERATED as a youth to take profanity and make it beautiful with my calligraphy. Whatever my parents felt about me using THOSE WORDS I think my mom was just relieved I was creating! I had an acrylic picture square I had purloined from my dad. The pictures were held in with a foam insert. What my brother's sketch doesn't show is that the foam square is hollowed out & it was an nifty little storage space for stash...I felt so cool!
I haven't changed with my nestling. Under my computer screen is a shimmering little mound of Kooshes. LOVE THEM...can't find them any more but LOVE THEM! I must have them. I remember living WITHOUT a television in my first apartment in downtown Portland sitting in the dark and juggling the glow in the dark kooshes. Yes I was sober! I have my little sayings not done in my calligraphed hand but nonetheless in their specific places to motivate. My little Ikea light which I love. My pens, less so for drawing now but for bill paying. One little wonder to appear this time was my 3 inch tall wooden bowling pin trophy from the 72-73 "season" where my average was 69. I went to the state championship that year! My mom didn't have the heart to tell me later that I was included so they could have a handicap bowler to manage the score. I barely remember going, I do remember the shirt. Really did have velvet printing...Heather on my barely burgeoning breastlet. I felt cool.
A few new things on my desk are for doggie torture. A mini remote controlled helicopter which I fire up every so often to make Daisy think Satan is here. I also have a Cadbury Bunny which clucks. Luke runs from it...Daisy & Bo are incensed by it! LOVE IT! This desk is different than my childhood desk. I don't sit at it & dream of what I will be...instead I sit and deal with what I have and how to get through until tomorrow. The creativity and passion has dissapated for organization and bill paying. The desk wasn't painted blue, instead I made sure there were places to store receipts, passwords and grown up effluvia. My drawing pens are there and in a cute container sadly more of a decoration than a necessity as they were over 20 years ago. There is a pece of art my friend Julie made me hanging over my desk which makes me smile.
My husband has a space where he nestles. We found a beautiful big oak desk for nearly little cost (because of it we can never move, huge) and his recently added 46 inch tv (THAT story is for another time). I will be critical of his space. In this beautiful desk there is NO PEN & PAPER. Dear GOD man....what craziness is THIS. "I can store it on my computer"...which he does. He has a MAC. Dear God that is wierd. But on his "pads" (they can't be pads without PAPER) and "note" areas (again no paper) he keeps passwords and such. On the rare occasions where I do sit at his desk, I rave internally for a GOD DAMNED PEN & PAPER. None. Drives me nuts...but to him he is nestled. He has a Japanese quote....whichever hat he is wearing waiting on the corner...and his mini LSU football helmet. I query now if there is a picture of us on his desk but the hypocracy of there not being one of us on mine glares.
My desk at work is also my nestling place. I have pictures, cards and stuffed animals to keep me grounded OUT of the workplace while I am there. I have 4 pictures of my husband there. they are a beacon as to whether I like Mike or not. If they are face down, I am avoiding. If they are in the drawer....he had better be hiding. When he worked at the same place it was more entertaining now. I have a teddy bear there that Mike gave me when he was sucking up which holds up the collection of dog pictures. One of each, it isn't a scrapbooked collage (sorry to sound snide, just not me). I look at the surrounding desk of my employees and peers. What their desks say about them.
I look at my desk at here & pause to run my hand over my koosh. They remind me to find the 16 year old with the 7 foot desk she knew lead her to other places in her head where the little Slyvia Plath kid could be happy!
Be great to you!
H
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