10 July 2011

Ooooo I have the travel bug. A baaad case of travel bug! Even as I sit here loving our new place, anxiously awaiting furniture delivery, DirecTV hook up, and many memories waiting to happen...I'm dreaming of when I can take my next trip, where I will go, who will be with me, and whether its even possible to dream of a "latermoon" with husband.

My mother's suggestion is to get a job as a trucker. That way I can drive to my heart's content, see things flying by out my window, and say I was a lot of places I wouldn't have been had I stuck around. This does not jive with what I was thinking. I'm envisioning something more like...glamorous...in a woodsy, exhausting, correspondent sort of way. Like...why can't I have a show on Travel Channel? I can eat, travel, have strong opinions, do daring or stupid things with wildlife just as well as the next Tony or Andrew. Like...I can take cool pictures with a fancy camera of indigenous peoples, rainbows, and protests just as well as the next Steve or Alfred. At least in my mind of potential thinking I can.

Perhaps someone that reads this would like to share how they stay content at home, yet still fill their cup of wandering up enough to satisfy the thirst?

08 July 2011

I feel like poo.

In other news, in the past 48 hours, I have become employed, gotten slimed by endless kissesmixedwithsnot, spent too much at the grocery store, listened to a specific radio station i purposely avoid simply to get me through "son-sickness" (its his fav station), jogged 3 miles pushing an extra 65 pounds in front of me (and it was uphill both ways in oppressive humidity!), cooked two dinners that were so tasty I'm positive I heard my taste buds applauding, and was able to see some friends perform at a festival (Rock on, Ralstons and Friends!).

Do you suppose since I don't look all that fab in red, that Target would allow me to wear a different colored shirt? I mean, I can't imagine they want any of their employees looking like one big tomato. Or I guess it would be more like a tomato with shredded carrots resting artfully on top.

03 July 2011


Many falls have taken place lately. Starting out with my children, who cannot seem to STOP falling. Gunnar seems to tumble to his knees or face several times per day. Mattea, well, she is nearly constantly falling to her knees, running into things, tumbling down stairs, etc. In fact, in church today, I think we set a record between the two of them knocking their heads on the pew in front of us. This translates into me spending the majority of the meeting in the hallway wiping tears.

We moved to Cedar Falls. Yet another pin on our map of annual to semi-annual jaunts across county lines and zip codes. This may or may not be a permanent move. Of course, since the zip code does not fall within the state of CO, I am hoping it is temporary. My heart, our hearts, are set on settling down within the safe, beautiful triple digits of 719 or 303. Either would suit me just fine.

My husband and I have also experienced a type of fall. We are learning, much too late in life, that we get an "epic fail" in the budget category. Don't shake your head in judgment, dear reader. I know many people I am close to that are coming to the realization that "all those years" they thought they knew how to manage their money...well, they didn't. We are not bankrupt, we are not past due on our bills, and we have a roof over our heads, clothes on our back, and food in our really cool "elite" refridgerator. We are ok. But I am constantly reminded, quietly yet harshly, by that still, small voice that we have not managed as best we could and that IT IS TIME to get it together. Thus, my return to work...

Four years I've been away from the working world. I've been raising my children, managing my household, supporting my husband, serving in the church, and healing my body and mind. Nope, I have not been lazy, although some would disagree...to my face. Unfortunately society does not see a Mother and housewife as a job anymore. It is merely something that "those spoiled women" get to do. Nonsense is my reply. Call me old fashioned, but I tend to agree that a woman should raise her own children, not pay someone else to do it. However, I'm also realistic and understand there are, and sympathize with, women that have to work to provide a second income. I used to be, and now am again, one of those women. Chastize me if you will for expressing my opinions, but may I remind you they are my own opinions, you don't have to make them yours, nor do you have to write me off because of them. It will kill me inside to leave my children with someone else, but in many ways I'm ready to do it. I'm tired of struggling financially, always riding the brink. I've tried to supplement our income in ways I could stay home and again, as my former youth group would say, epically failed. Jewelry wouldn't sell, thus I couldn't further myself in making even more radical pieces...because the money wasn't there. Babysitting fizzled as I realized I wasn't cut out to raise other people's children. Transcription was a waste of my time because I to this day have not found a place to hire me to work from home, even after torturing myself with the useless home study transcription school courses. So I will get up, fall in line, go through the motions, and march back home again every day (picture a line of ants, brainlessly hauling and heaving other dead insects back to the pile) to get ahead and get right those things I should've done differently. Since I cannot say my name is Dr. Wright, and that would be my own fault for setting school aside when I had the chance, I will perform mundane tasks in order to collect pennies in order to send those pennies off to someone else and all the while look forward to the day when I can feel as if I've paid my dues and can return to my home where I belong. Dramatic, you say? I call it reality.

In any case, change is constant. As the old saying goes, I pray for the serenity to accept the things I absolutely cannot change. I need buckets of courage to change the things I can and I'm running short on wisdom because I keep fighting battles I can't win. I guess that's why we do pray, then. It keeps us thinking and eventually, with His help, we figure things out.

You picking up what I'm throwing down?