April Recap!

And here we are...the end of April. Time for that glorious monthly recap.

So, true confessions time. I almost, like came thisclose almost tossed all of my goals out the window this month and said fuck it, who needs goals anyway? Now I didn't. But it was a close thing. I just had a big dose of what usually comes in October or November of pure lack of motivation to push for any of these things I make up to do. I mean honestly, why do I make things up to make life harder? Shouldn't it be easier? Why....

Then I remembered who I was and kept on plugging along on my self discovery quests and...well...here we are.

So fitness/weight! You know last month I was out of commission and the month before that as well. This month I hit the gym pretty much every week day. Four days of lifting, two days of cardio. My hand is healed. My back is healed. I'm increasing my weights back to where I was before. I'm back in the swing, baby! And my weight is...are you fucking kidding me with this shit? No, that's really what the scale said this morning for my end of month weigh in. Or it might as well have. I'm up 4 (!!) pounds from the last day of March and up just over a pound for the year.

*sigh*

So yeah. That's where that is. We are going home this weekend so I will be eating sopapillas and cheese smothered everything so whatever dudes...

No, honestly, I still have the goal for weight loss for the year etched in pixels back in January but the odds of me hitting it are just not strong. At least from where I am standing right now. I think the hormones are just going to get the best of me. Who knows, maybe there will be a second half come back (or go away in this case) but I think I really am going to have to start shifting the weight goal ahead to what my 2021 one was going to be which was just be at peace with it. We will see...but as for right now fitness is back on track, weight is off the rails.

Reading! I read 6 books last month and am now 3 behind schedule, whaaaat? Yeah, I'm not sure how that happened since I think my goal works out to just over 6 a month but here I am. Actually wait...that checks out. I was two behind last month, read just under what I needed and now I'm three. Okay, well math isn't part of my goals... ANYWAY...I need to catch up there. I just got the new Paper Girls so that will help and the aforementioned trip means a few hours on a plane so that helps as well. The Discworld books went back to being behind. I read one of them and waited for the next for the rest of the month. I have the next two on hold already so hopefully I can get a good swing going again with those.

Writing! After this blog I will be ahead one for the year. Still plugging along on that, but barely. I am dipping too much into my reserves in months when I am not travelling so need to building a cushion. Fiction is just on pace as well. Need to build that up a bit as well. But...

MasterClass! I watched the one with Margaret Atwood this month. She's a freaking genius and watching her class was amazing. Honestly I loved it. She had a lot of insightful things about not only the art of writing but also the business side of it. Which is where this ties in to the last paragraph. I don't write to make money. We've talked about this before. There is a part of me that wants to be published so I can hold it in my hand and say "See? Someone who didn't HAVE to say nice things thought it was good enough to print." But I am not at all motivated by money. Or by fame. Or by any of the normal things people are motivated by so it's a challenge. And I think watching some of my favorite authors talk about how much they WORK at writing made my muse go sit in the corner and think about what she hasn't done. So next month I'm going to take Gordon Ramsay's cooking one. Which Brent said, "You are taking a break from people who write better than you for someone who cooks better?" and I nodded and started to say something and he realized what I was going to say, "Oh, wait, you don't care about how well you cook so there is no pressure." Exactly. Let's see if learning knife skills coaxes my muse back out to play....

Monthly Museum/Attraction! Pulled this one in under the wire. We went to a museum that is just a few miles from the house. I have seen the sign for ages and we've just never gone. I was a little bummed because when I first looked it up online to see about using it this month I saw they do a cool Easter Egg hunt for all ages. But you need to buy tickets in advance and I was too late. Also bummed because it would have been a cool thing when C was little if I had known about it. But anyway...we went to the Rice Rock and Mineral Museum. It was pretty cool. Lots of different things to look at and read about. And I got it done in April so whew...

Long Term! I got the curtains up in the upstairs bedrooms. Tried to get that deck work rescheduled but didn't hear back from the contractor so looks like I will be starting that search over again next month.

So what's on tap for next month?

Stick with the gym schedule. Keep making those lifting gains.
Catch up on the book total.
Build a little cushion on the writing totals.
Trip to NM this weekend. Making it out of that with our sanity intact. :-)
Deck work scheduled.
And 2nd quarter submission time.

So not abandoning the goals but it was close. I just would have a hard time saying I was doing these things and then not actually doing them. But it is looking like next year could actually end up that mythical no goals year. Imagine that...

Or you know, I could just keep remembering who I am and setting these weird little challenges until the last goal on the list is "Die peacefully in my sleep on 101st birthday"

Whatevs...

Short Conversations...

"It was all very dramatic."

"I'm sure it was."

"It WAS. Wait, why did you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you were rolling your eyes when you said it."

"Did you see my rolling my eyes? You are sitting right there. You would have seen me roll my eyes."

"No, but your tone had eye roll in it."

"My tone? Not my eyes actually rolling, but I had eye rolling tone?"

"Yes. Like now. You have eye rolling tone again."

"No this tone is just flat out 'are you kidding me with this right now' tone. You can't just decide that I have eye rolling tone when you are looking at me and my eyes did not roll."

"Still..."

"Whatever."

"See?"

"Yes, see? You saw my eyes roll that time. No need to guess about tone."

"Fine, I don't even want to tell you about the conversation now."

"Okay, that's your choice."

"Oh my god...I can't believe you just used your bored tone!"


--------------

"I was telling her about my conversation with Dan and suddenly it got very dramatic!"

"I'm sure it did...."

One Week Later...

So it's been a week since the release of the Mueller Report. Or at least the redacted version of the report.

When it was released I posted that I wasn't going to argue with people about it because nobody is going to change their minds. And I stand by that. I won't argue with people about it.

That doesn't mean I won't talk about it. Or share my opinions on it or even wonder out loud how anyone could read the report (the actual report not the Barr summary) and walk away thinking Trump is FULLY EXONERATED! But I won't argue. Because we aren't dealing with facts so much as we are feelings around Trump and the report itself.

So after sitting with it a week where are we now?

I don't really know. I don't know what happens next. Mueller seemed pretty clear that he was leaving it to Congress to follow up. Though Barr tried to step in and fill that that gap. But is Congress willing to act? And will they be allowed to? Trump is already suing (yes, suing, his favorite pastime) to stop access to his records. He's trying to stop people from testifying before Congress. He's basically doing the obstruction shuffle he's been doing all along. And again, I don't think this is how innocent people act.

There is a part of me that wants the impeachment proceedings. It galls me that he's been crooked all of his life (look at the reporting on his business dealings, look at the brilliant series that was done on his family and decades of tax evasion) and yet he sits in the Oval Office untouchable. I'm old enough to know that life is not fair. I've watched the world work for long enough to know that rich people get to play by a different rule book than the rest of us. I've seen it. I know it. But that doesn't mean I like it anymore than I did when I was younger  and "That's not fair!" actually seemed like something we could fix.

And you know that with the Senate under McConnell's thumb he wouldn't be removed anyway. So impeach him but don't remove him. That's what happened to Clinton. Hell it's what happened to Johnson as well. We've impeached two presidents in our history and neither one was removed from office but just filing the articles of impeachment was a statement. Johnson's was a rebuke on overreach (wouldn't that be nice right about now?) and Clinton's was for lying under oath. Which Trump avoided by answering "I don't know" over and over and over again on written questions and refusing to answer in person. So much for his great memory.

But impeachment is a stain. And it's one he should wear.

But again...we live in very political times and it would be framed the same way the entire investigation was. As just a political hit job. Never mind that the investigation uncovered extensive Russian meddling in our elections, which Trump still hasn't really addressed and we are well into the next cycle. Never mind that numerous indictments happened. And not just indictments people pleaded to and were found guilty. There were crimes committed. Mueller outlined 10 obstruction of justice areas for Congress to consider. This was no witch hunt, unless Trump would melt when hit with a bucket of water. Which come to think of it, he did skip visiting the American Cemetery in France because it was raining so...

So would impeachment proceedings actually be anything more than Democrats saying, "look at this!" and Republicans saying, "Can't make me!" Would it actually get the message across that he shouldn't be able to once again slither away? I cannot imagine that it would. From what I've seen from my Republican friends they are more than happy to keep looking at the shiny objects and ignore the filthy ones.

So I guess we are where we were before. November 2020. I know it's against what I normally preach about well informed voting. I know it's not at all in line with how I normally approach a ballot and those on the ballot. BUT...as long as he's the Republican nominee I'm #VoteBlueNoMatterWho.

All in for the Democrats in 2020. I'm not going to argue about it. I'm just going to do it.

If Congress won't do it, we really have to.

All of us.

Not even kidding.

First Quarter Submission Rejection...

My submission for the first quarter was a 53 Word Story with the prompt The High Road. I wrote three stories and then submitted the one I liked the best.  Each has the same title, The High Road, so when you see it you are on to the next.

Fifty three words isn't a lot to work with. I haven't seen the winning story just yet...but I really can't be too mad about not winning this one. I wrote all three of these in about 20 minutes. Not my best stuff, but amusing.

The High Road

There are two ways out of the valley. She could go over the mountain or around it.  The mountain road was shorter, time was money they said. The valley road took at least two hours longer, but better safe than sorry they said. To each road there is a season she always said.

 The High Road

A beatific smile from above looks like a sanctimonious smirk when viewed from below. A frown of concentration looks like a scowl of anger. Working toward the middle ground made the earth shift under her feet and left her questioning everything she thought she knew. Right or wrong, everything depends on the angles.

The High Road

“Have you ever considered not taking the bait?”

“Why would I?”

“To be the better person.”

“Better? Who decided that was better?”

“Kindness is always better.”

“How is weakness better than strength?”

“How is kindness weak?”

“Kindness opens you up to pain.”

“Then kindness must be strength.”

He hadn’t even felt the hook.

Ashes to Ashes...

She was 10 when Yellowstone burned. They lived in Idaho at the time. Over a hundred miles away from the park and yet they could still smell the smoke. There was still a fine layer of ash on their family car in the morning. The sky was yellow and sick looking. She remembered feeling a little guilty because she had liked the way the smell reminded her of campfires.

Her father had told her that it was okay to think positive things about the smell. Even as destructive as this fire was, fire still gave life. It kept them warm in the winters. It fed the forest with nutrients that couldn't be found without burning. It cleared out the old and made way for the new. It was okay. 

Almost 30 years later she had been living in Oregon when the Gorge burned. She was in the suburbs of Portland, about 60 miles from the fire itself. But the smoke clogged the air. It was hot that year and the heat and the smoke and the ash made it hard to breathe. Friends who had children with asthma tried to escape but the whole state seemed to be burning that late summer. She remembered sitting on her front porch reaching out and catching the giant flakes of ash on her hand like she would have the first snowfall. Big white flakes of ash that would disintegrate between her fingers as she held them, leaving smears of soot. The smell was still like a campfire, but this time she didn't enjoy it. Tears ran down her face as she thought of the loss.

Two years after the fire she walked the trails seeing the damage. It still smelled of charred wood. Even though it had been rained on and snowed on and was starting to see new growth. The char was there. Feeding the new life. She thought of the lessons her father had taught her all those years ago. Fire was part of the forest. It was a cycle that had stood for the history of the world. There were even certain plants that only grew after a fire. The seed pods could not open without the extreme heat. She knew all of these things. But she still mourned the loss.

She picked up a piece of burnt branch and slowly sharpened the end against a boulder making a charcoal crayon. Nature's art supplies. Some ancient person somewhere had discovered this. After a fire. Every bit of art sprang from that fire. Writing, painting. Charcoal drawings were the start. She felt tied to the earth right then. To the call of history and to the pull of the future. Her spot in the middle someplace. She tucked the stick into her back pocket and walked on.

There was a tree in the middle of a scorched area that hadn't burned at all. She never understood how that was possible. There was nothing but burnt out logs and stumps around it, but this tree, this one tree stood there green and growing. As if the fire had parted and gone around it like a stone in a river. She placed her hands on the trunk, then leaned her forehead against its rough bark. Breathing in the deep rich pine sap smell. She thanked the tree for surviving.

Then she picked up a small stone and dug a hole at the base of the tree. Through the dried pine needles, through the burnt layers of forest, through the rich thick dirt. Then she took the small bag from her backpack and held it in her hands. Still and silent. Listening to the forest around her.

The fire in Yellowstone had smelled so good to her.
The ashes from the Gorge had felt like flakey snow on her hands.

She had been surprised when these ashes had felt like powdery grains of sand, not ash like at all. Gray, grainy dust. She had smelled them when she got them. They didn't smell like the woods. They didn't smell like the fire. They didn't smell like him either.

She opened the bag and poured the ashes into the hole at the base of the tree. Patting the dirt over them she let her tears fall to the forest floor. Helping to water the new life started here. She took the charcoal from her back pocket and drew a small heart on the tree then placed the stick in the dirt mound. The only marker she would leave. Knowing the heart would wash away and the stick would be carried off  by some animal or it would eventually break down and feed the soil.

Like he was.

She knew that fire was part of the cycle.

That there were things that could only grow after the flames.

She knew this.

She just wasn't sure she believed it anymore.

Do You Even Know Me?

So this sort of goes along with the blog I wrote a few weeks ago about being misunderstood.

I had someone say the funniest thing to me today. They said one of the things they really admired about me is how comfortable I am in my own skin.

I laughed out loud.

Which made me glad I was reading it, instead of hearing it face to face. Laughing in someone's face is pretty rude. Though I did respond with a typed HA! So...

But anyway...I laughed. And I thought you obviously do not read my blog. One thing I am not is comfortable in my own skin. I am constantly battling my weight issues. Too much, too little, way too much. Rinse, repeat. Now with the added benefit of age so the things I used to do to lose weight are not even working to maintain my weight and it's just steadily climbing which is making me INSANE. In fact I had just reached the decision this morning to take off the next few weeks of even focusing on what I eat or don't eat  AT ALL because it's just making me mad that nothing is changing that needle from its upward climb so if I want to eat ALL OF THE THINGS I might as well eat ALL OF THE THINGS instead of being slightly cranky about not eating ALL OF THE THINGS and still gaining a  few pounds.

deep breath....

So anyway, back to the comment. I laughed. And I explained, that no, no I'm not. Not in as much detail as I did above, but just that I'm not.

And they said they knew that I worked at my weight. They knew that I had issues around it. They knew that I was obsessive about it. But that's why they viewed me as comfortable in my own skin. Not because I don't struggle with body image but because they knew all of that. I don't hide any of that from anyone.

Oh. I see.

It's not my skin I'm comfortable in, it's my skin. Got it.

My skin as in who I am. My own self. Not my skin as in what I wish I could look like. My outward skin.

Well that clears it up completely.

And actually it does. I am who I am. (channeling my inner Popeye) I made peace with that a long time ago. I have a few really odd quirks and some deeper things I'm neurotic about and it's all fine. It's part of who I am. I have zero fucks to give about being who people think I should be. Or doing what the world at large expects me to do. I know that we are all supposed to pretend that our lives are perfect and we hashtag woke up like this. But that's not me.

I woke up with my hair on one side of my head standing out to the side. My eyes were super puffy because I didn't really wake up like that. I had been awake for ages wishing I could fall back asleep because I am so damn tired but that wasn't happening today. Or yesterday.

BUT...I smiled at myself in the mirror because that's what I do. Smiling is a mirror emotion. Not an emotion you practice in the mirror but one that other people mirror when they see it. You smile at someone they smile back. It also is one of those things that makes you feel better just to do. Even if you don't have a reason to smile right then. So years ago I started making sure instead of giving myself nothing but critical once overs in the mirror I smile.

I worked out because I want to be healthy. And strong. And have great biceps. And be able to eat what I want. That last part isn't really working out for me anymore. Age and insomnia are working against me. But the health part still is. So I'll keep doing it. Muscle tone and a strong heart will see me through my dotage a lot more comfortably.

And I will keep talking about it. Because I'm obsessive about my weight and talking about it, putting it out in the world, keeps me from hiding it and doing destructive things to myself. So I guess they will continue to think I am comfortable in my own skin because I am comfortable in my own self.

 Now if you'll excuse me I'm off to eat ALL OF THE THINGS because I WANT TO so there....

Dear Parents...

Dear, Parents,

I'm writing this today because I know you are facing a lot of pressure to be perfect. I see it all the time online. There are any number of studies, reports, news stories, mommy bloggers, daddy bloggers, opinion pieces and random comments telling you how bad you are at being a parent. How many mistakes you are making. And I just want to let you know...

You are.

You are making mistakes all the time. Sometimes looking back at the time I was actively parenting C it seems like nothing but a constant stream of lurching from mistake to mistake. I can tell you all of the areas that I know I messed up in, and I'm sure there were a ton more that I don't even realize I botched. See the internet wasn't as prominent back then so there weren't as many people telling me how bad I was at it. I had to rely on parenting magazines and disapproving looks from other mothers in Target.

So just accept it right now. You are making mistakes. And then tell yourself that it's okay. Seriously. It's okay.

When C was born his pediatrician gave me the advice I give all new parents when they are struggling. Only good parents worry about if they are good parents. The fact that you are concerned about the things you are pretty sure you are doing wrong is good. The fact that when you realize something isn't working you change it is outstanding. But know that at the end of it all you will see the other things, the things you did wrong and you will wish you hadn't.

That's okay.

Nobody is perfect. Anybody expecting you to be perfect is an asshole. Just flat out, they are. Know that. Believe that. Mistakes will be made. Hopefully they will all be small ones. Or ones that are easily corrected. Nobody has ever raised a child without making mistakes. If you are religious keep in mind that Mary and Joseph lost Jesus. FOR THREE DAYS! So, you know, cut yourself some slack.

If you aren't religious or need more examples then have an honest discussion with parent friends about some of the worst moments of their parenting life. C has a scar on his chin from slicing it open on a sippy cuppy. He also head dove off of a couch when not just Brent and I were there but his grandparents as well. Four adults in the room and he still hit the ground. The moments fingers get smashed in doors. Elbows hit little heads that are following you VERY closely and you don't realize it. Teenage moments when you had no fucking clue what they were really up to. Things they saw or heard that you wouldn't have wanted them to. Everyone has made mistakes that horrify them.

Just do your best. Honestly. You love your kids. You want the best for them. Do your best. Feed them, clothe them, house them, love them. Just keep doing your best.

And know you will still make mistakes.

And it's okay.

Love,
Been there done that and he's alive and thriving.