Deuces

I spend too much time thinking. Lloyd says I create my own anxiety, to which I respond with some anxiety. I spend too much time multi-tasking.  When I have only one thing to do, I am lost.  And then I decide to write.  So if you are seeing an inordinate amount of posts from me, give me something to do.  (Cleaning your floors not included in this trial offer). I spend my jogging sessions thinking about work.   And also trying to block out thoughts about work because I know that somewhere, some fitness guru is advising people to utilize their exercising as a way to block out stuff like work but I just can't seem to manage.   I spend my mornings cuddled up in bed with my daughter. She is extremely silly in the mornings and her smile is infectious enough to almost make me forget I need coffee. Almost. I spend my weekend mornings cocooning.  You are not familiar with cocooning.  This is my way of saying that I stare at a wall and think about so many things and that

There's something deliriously sweet about being awake at 3:30 a.m. It's the quiet hum of the refrigerator, reminding you that, despite best attempts, your electricity bill isn't going to lessen any time soon. It is the stillness of a night that came after a day full of emails and reminders and calls and potty-training accidents and laundry and trying to remember to do all the things I know I will otherwise forget to do.   It's discovering that on my last sweep-up I neglected under the couch- where Legos go to rest and Melissa and Doug wooden puzzle pieces scatter, almost forgotten.  It's the respite from the smack-on-the-head for forgetting to pay the car insurance which has now lapsed.  It's the dusk settling before dawn welcomes a new day to cross my fingers that there won't be a potty-training accident or an unhappy customer awaiting me. This is 3:36. This is the time when I can't sleep many nights.  It's a listlessness that o

I probably shouldn't have called my father "Daddy" for as many years as I did. But I did. And it never occurred to me not to- that it wasn't very adult-like. In some alternate universe where time does not pass, however, you are still my daddy. In that universe I am young. Much younger. I have not forgotten you. But I am not sad, Not as often. Whereas I once tried to forget the heartache of losing the first man I ever loved, I now welcome those amazing memories. The calloused hands that showed years of hard labor. The laugh that made your eyes close and your head fall back. The way you would waltz into a house party to retrieve me if I hadn't called to let you know I would be home late.  Yikes.  Embarrassing. The way you avoided sitting on couches and chairs and preferred to sit on the floor.  Literally- you could not be seen on anything plush.  Hard kitchen chairs or a floor only. The way you

My Birthday is a longways away.  Christmas is coming...kind of.  Well, Costco thinks so, anyway. So maybe if I put this wish-list out into the world, these albums will find their way into Santa's workshop.  I could get them for myself, but I just selfishly acquired 4 new albums within the last week so I may be feeling the come-down from my purchasing high.  2 copies of Alt-J (one for Lloyd, one for my colleague Tara), Bastille and John Coltrane: you were worth it- was it good for you, too? I did fit a few other things into the budget.  New eyeliner for Ariel from Sephora (A girl this cute deserves it).  And anyway, vegan eyeliners on sale are hard to pass up. .. And I ended up with the usual suspects for Sayler.  Seriously... that Classic Library set?  How could I pass that up? The John Coltrane album that had been sitting in my online cart for months dropped in price, beckoning me forth.  It was the final bid adieu to a weekend of spending my husband's paych

These conversations make my day. They are the random musings, gossip, anecdotes, questions, good humor,  needs and "I Miss You" memos that I revel in.  The type of messages I need to make my day brighter...  They are the plans I am making, the people I want to hear from, the small number sign next to the green icon that keeps me guessing who has me on their mind at that given moment. And while I sit here in a mall parking lot while my little girl sleeps peacefully, I blog from my Blogger app and think about the funny conversations I can have with my loved ones... My friends... My colleagues... My siblings and the automated messages from Amazon that tell me my long-awaited packages have arrived. Vinyl albums that I can't find elsewhere, cleaning products that I just can't locate in any big box store, the perfect gifts for perfect people. I love my conversations with Ariel.  Ariel keeps me sane. Ariel makes me laugh in the middle of work da