Done being done

At some point, you need to stop over-thinking what to write and stop over-analyzing what you want your blog to be and stop over-planning how to fit it in with everthing else and you need to just sit down and write something.

And thus Alias Mother discovers the meaning of life.  Or at least blog writing.

So, yes.  Done with that.

Other things I am done doing:

- Complaining about my job.  It’s a job.  It’s a good job.  No, it’s not my dream job, but since no one is lining up at my door to offer to pay me to drink margaritas and get back rubs from muscle-y men named Sven whilst I cruise the Caribbean, this will have to do.

- Fretting about what I want this blog to be.  It started out as a place where I wrote things my friends were tired of hearing about.  It’s also a place to improve my writing.  It’s a place to record some things about my life.  It’s a place to have an excuse to make myself laugh.  Does it need to be anything else?  No.

- Freaking out about money.  We have food to eat and a roof to eat under.  Good enough.

- Worrying about putting my kid in daycare.  You didn’t know I was still doing this, did you?  But you know what?  She smiles at the daycare folks when she gets there.  She is always happily playing when we pick her up.  She likes it there.  But, and this is key, she is so excited to see me when I get home that there is no doubt that she still loves us best.  She’s doing fine.  I’m letting it go.

- Missing the forest for the trees.  Are my life, career, writing, and finances where I want them?  No.  Am I improving the situation by constantly fretting and planning and worrying?  Shockingly, no.

I do believe, to a certain extent, that the energy we put out into the universe mirrors what we get back.  And thus I am taking the part of my brain that’s been telegraphing out all this stress and bother and worry about things that I’m not going to change or solve or fix because they are beyond me and I’m shutting it down.  It’s gone.  It’s done.

How’ve you been?

Fall ennui

Me: I can’t believe I did that!  I’m so stupid!
Next-cube neighbor: You’re being awfully hard on yourself this week.  Are you okay?
Me: Yes, I’m just all kinds of out of sorts and put-upon these days.
NCN: What’s the matter?
Me: Nothing, really.  Everything is fine.  I’m just…blah.
NCN: I hate those days.
Me: I’ve been feeling like this for a week or so.  Maybe I just need to get my act together.
NCN: Maybe you need some time alone.
Me: Maybe I need a nap.
NCN: Maybe it’s because it’s 9/11.
Me: Maybe it’s just fall ennui.
NCN: Maybe…
Me: Maybe…

***********************************

Taking a short break for a wee bit, folks, to shake off my doldrums and maybes.  Never fear, all is well.  Just need a little bit to get life back online.

Catch you on the flip side.

Just about the only political post you will ever see here

I don’t like to write about politics here, because I tend towards the “my blog is an extension of my living room” train of thought and I follow the Miss Manners rule to never discuss religion or politics with others.  Not because I think discussion is bad, but because it is a rare mix of people that can have a political discussion without it deteriorating and resulting in someone feeling badly (and it’s usually not the person who made the conversation deteriorate, in my experience).  Then that makes me sad because I am all about people being happy in my living room as they drink yummy cocktails and eat menu items centered around cheese.  I am a good hostess that way.

But, my online reading has been tainted lately by a stunning amount of vitriol surrounding this election.  And I am anti-vitriol.  So I thought I would gently whisper this into the internet’s ear as I pass it another cocktail:

Barack Obama is not the anti-christ.  Nor is he the savior of the universe.

John McCain is not the anti-christ.  Nor is he the savior of the universe.

Sarah Palin is not the anti-christ.  Nor is she the savior of the universe.

Joe Biden is not the anti-christ.  Nor is he the savior of the universe.

All four of these people are, well, people.  People with opinions different than yours, possibly, but people.  People who, for better or worse, have put their lives on hold and their careers on the line to run for the two highest offices we have to offer here in the United States.  Two of them will get elected.  Two of them will not.  The U.S. will survive either way, because that is what it is built to do.  Let me repeat that: THAT IS WHAT IT IS BUILT TO DO.

I’m not saying that the stakes aren’t high, or that I don’t have a preference who wins, or that the country will be exactly the same regardless of who is in the White House.  What I am saying is that, as a nation, we need to only trust in one thing: our Constitution.  It is not just a piece of paper  (or parchment, or whatever it actually is).  It is the agreement by which we, as a country, operate.  Have some faith in it.  Have some faith that if the person you back doesn’t win, we will all somehow survive to see another day, another election, another era.  Because that is what we, as the people referred to in We The People, control.  This is what WE were built to do.

This message brought to you by the conservative commentator I heard this morning who insisted that a Barack Obama presidency would, and, yes, I quote, “Be a country-destroying choice.”  Also, by all the liberals who keep insisting that “we will not survive four more years of Republican rule.”  Seriously, folks.  Have another cocktail and tell me what you think about Christian Bale as Batman.  Also, would you like some more baked brie?

Proof I did not marry a man prettier than I am

Me: Shoot, I’m out of moisturizer.
Him: Here, use mine.
Me: You own moisturizer???
Him: Of course I do.  Look.  (Pulls out his vanity drawer to show me a battered Nivea for Men cannister.)  It even has sunscreen in it.
Me: How old is this?
Him: Not that old.  Just a few years.
Me: A few years???  Do you ever use it?
Him: YES.  Sometimes.  Occasionally.  Why are you looking at it like that?
Me: It expired in September 2006!
Him: Is that bad?

Truthfully, I think it’s a question a lot of people would like to ask

Yesterday, a co-worker complained that 1) I never bring the Buddha into the office and 2) if I’m not going to bring her in I could at least bring pictures in.  Reminded of my growing “bad mother” reputation and loathe to admit that the real problem is that we are too lazy to get pictures actually printed in physical form, I attempted to salvage things by showing her some pictures that we had online. 

The first picture in the queue was the latest in the Month Series.  Every month, we take a picture of the Buddha on her birthday with an index card.  At first, the card just listed how old she was, “one month,” “two months,” etc.  But soon we had started listing her height and weight, then adding in little details, like how many teeth she had or new skills she acquired that month.  You know, like a pictoral baby book.  (Since, you guessed it, we don’t have a baby book.)

So I showed my co-worker the nine month picture.  She took one look and before her internal editor could kick in she yelled out: “What is WRONG with you?”

I mean, I don’t know.  The Buddha wouldn’t stop chewing on the card and we couldn’t get a clear shot of the stats and we were running out of time and I just needed to get the picture taken, you know?

That’s not so bad, right?  Right?  Hello? 

Stop looking at me like that.

*For the copyeditors in the bunch: yes, I know that just a few posts ago I told you she was 29 1/2″ tall.  Our haphazard, at-home measuring technique failed us this round. And we were off by a pound in the weight department, too.  Bad recordkeeping, all around.

*Also: please excuse the snotty nose and dirty shirt.  It was a rough afternoon.

And now…some updates (or: I have 30 seconds to post so this is what you get)

The trip: We survived with only minor dings.  One screaming wake-up around 11 PM and a early morning rise at 4:30.  Could’ve been (and has been) worse.

The cold: Everyone appears to be healthy now.  For the moment.  Most likely a short moment.

The skinny baby:  She apparently heard the doctor and was horribly offended.  Has been a little baby garbage disposal since.  Looking chubbier already.

The work situation: Feeling better about it.  I guess.  I’m trying to look on the bright side.  The Buddha started in full-time care this week, which is hard, but whatcha gonna do?  (When they come for you.  BAD BOYS, BAD BOYS…oh.  Sorry.)

Auds Dinner Party Post: I could have written this thing five times over in all the time I have spent making excuses for it.  Auds, baby.  I will write it!

The Little Blanket Thingy-Ma-Bobber: Still no name for it, but not from a lack of good suggestions.  But if there is one thing I learned from those comments, it’s that it doesn’t really matter what I call it.  The Buddha will name it herself anyway, so I might as well just wait.

Anything else?  What else do I owe updates on?