Deuces

Pre- Friendsgiving... I needed to clean.... Desperately...  So I put on my cleaning playlist that plays  the bomb beats.  I thanked Ariel for recommending the Pandora station that made my house sparkle... Friends brought too much awesome food... And brought thee cutest kids. We took too many photos.... And kept the tradition alive. Love these friends. Love our Friendsgivings.

Yesterday I struggled to feel: Motivated Interested Inspired Content Kind Yesterday I struggled to stop checking my phone for someone else to make my day Because I struggled to make my own day Yesterday I struggled with willpower. I should have known it would be an off day when I got one of those delectable snowman cookies with my Starbucks coffee Oh, how you thwart me, snowman! Yesterday I struggled with patience as my perfectly beautiful daughter tested me by asking me for toast, after she asked me for cereal, after she asked me for a breakfast bar... All of which went uneaten... Just before a glass was broken on the floor.  Yesterday I struggled to feel like myself, save for when I heard The Eagles' Hotel California followed by Lynard Skynard's Sweet Home Alabama followed by Survivor's Eye of the Tiger coming home from my mom's house after an overnight stay.  Seriously there is something so right on about my Pandora lately I

Saturday morning.... Taking breaks from cleaning and purging my home.  This was a good break. Saturday night... Russo's Dirty Thirty Sunday afternoon... Running inspiration from "Dirty Diana" Sunday Night... Pearl Jam Monday... Recuperating and working... Highlight: Pearl Jam playing "Future Days" and Lloyd saying it could almost make him cry. Pearl Jam: Future Days

I am cleaning, I swear. I come up with these crazy plans. These obsessive-compulsive ideas that I cannot shake. And this idea I have dubbed "The Fifty". The Fifty is the number I have vowed I would undertake each day during the week of Thanksgiving, beginning today: the Saturday prior. From my home I would purge myself of 50 things every day. It started with twenty. But then I realized it would be easy to cheat since each scrap of paper I rid this home of would count as one. You know all those scraps?  The receipts you thought "just in case" you should hold onto... the mail... the coupons from Kohl's latest flyer (that turned into the flyer from summer now past...), the work faxes and memos and other idle paper messes that need to get into the recycling bin, like, yesterday. So 20 became 50, and I am intent on meeting that goal. Any combination of unused toys and unworn clothes that will make it to Salvation Army, any fas

I'm kind of elated. I'm kind of feeling grateful for this beautiful, cloudy, rainy day. I'm kind of pleased with the messages I've received today. I'm kind of honestly saying that everyone I love is happy and healthy, if only for today.   I'm kind of realizing that I can hardly keep my eyes open this week, but I'm lucky that I'm tired... Because it means my days and nights and mind have been full.  I'm kind of noticing my daughter is becoming a little girl.  She is truly perfect. I'm kind of biased. I'm kind of tense from yesterday's run with Ariel which kind of was one of the most beautiful runs I've had in a long time. I'm kind of excited about the days ahead. I'm kind of anxious to share these photos  of a kind of perfect day. 

The tickets were bought, and it all happened so fast. I definitely don't dislike Pearl Jam.  And it's enough that Lloyd likes Pearl Jam to buy their concert tickets for their show this weekend but I suddenly realized that I am not going to be able to sing along to most of the songs that they belt out on stage, and that makes me somewhat uncomfortable. Because usually I can prepare. I like to prepare. I'd like to sway and hold up my lighter and scream with adulation when one of their 'secret' songs come on because true fans can always detect the "B" sides when no one else can. I kind of like to know more than the people around me... or at least just as much... somehow it makes me feel safe. But last night Lloyd asked me if I would watch Pearl Jam's  Twenty  documentary and as I sat and watched him watch the documentary I knew that it made him happy the way rock music just does. I would be lying if I didn't confess that I liked watchin

It's 2:30 a.m. and I sit in a bath towel. I couldn't sleep. This congested head. This girl waiting for 5: 30 a.m. to come so I can get ready for work. This regret for going to bed too early. This mom who is thinking and somewhat saddened by her daughter's new-found discovery of what it means to be 'scared'. And she started saying it recently.   "I'm scared ". And I didn't think much of it at first... knowing that she just picks up words and expressions lately and may not quite comprehend what those words and expressions actually mean. In fact, she has taken to calling me "Princess" lately, which, obviously, I'm not going to dissuade her from doing. Where did she get that word from?  There's no princess movies in this house. And I've never been called Princess before.  My dad never pulled that bullshit with me.  I never really thanked him for that.  Cheers, dad, for keeping it real. Now... the phrase: "

Images of a perfect Saturday: Images of a Perfect Sunday:

I got to start my weekend with conversations that made my heart joyful.  ` I've got big plans, man. Going to see my nieces play it up Mia Hamm style, going to spend oodles of time with this sweet girl: I'll let loose just a little... And I'll hang out with my girlfriends to unveil the sealed envelope that reveals whether KB will grace us with a baby boy or girl this spring. That's the weekend ahead.

Loved these ones... From the grateful... ...to the inspirational... ...and motivational.. ...the wise... ... To the truth, yo'

I love today already. I can't stop smiling. I love cloudy weather.  I love that I can hear a bird singing outside my window despite the clouds. I love that I chose to play John Mayer's Battle Studies album while I work. I love the view from my couch. These red flowers that thrive next to the white roses that thrive a few yards away from the chimnea I had to have.  I love that I've almost, almost, just about swallowed my pride in the choice to hire a housekeeper.  Because today she came and she made all of my floors lovely and every toy has a place. I love her.  I love that just as I was racing to get out the door for a work appointment on a day when I really, really wanted to stay home and work in my underpants I got a call to ask if we can re-schedule the work apointment. I hugged my phone and I hoped my customer didn't hear the elation and smile in my voice. I love that I am feeling energetic on a day I'd usually rath

Who said "Actions Speak Louder Than Words"? I want to talk to that guy. It must be a guy... I am certain. I understand the purpose and point and practicality of such an expression, I understand how we must be accountable for our actions, and not confuse the honesty of what we do, with the ease of words that leave our mouths, oftentimes without much thought, or consideration. Perhaps I rely on the words too much, When my actions seem insufficient. When there isn't a chance to show or make actionable, I am one of words. The way they fall off the pages of a book, and make me cry, or laugh, or scan, rapidly, unable to read fast enough to satisfy my curiosity. The words that are in the songs, That I carefully digest and interpret, Perhaps erroneously. Though it is likely the case that, whatever my favorite songs are at any given moment give some indication of what is on my mind. The words that fall out of your mouth, oftentimes w

It sounds like a novela, doesn't it? Tamayo and the Bandid But it's just 2 of my favorite words at the moment. Like a novela, the words are sometimes filled with drama.  Only m oments ago, in fact, she wailed it.  "Baaaaaaaannnnnnndiiiiiiiddddd" And that was my daughter begging for a Band-Aid: Her current obsession. They generally go on her thumb. Gently wrapped and then unwrapped and re-wrapped onto a different finger.  If CPS knew how many bandids we bought they would assume abuse. But the only abuse around here is to my pocketbook for my daughter's obsession with owies and bruises and even the non-existent ones that must be bubbling in her blood, sight unseen.  We buy many Band-Aids, or... rather... adhesive bandages. Unbeknownst to her, her last bandid was of the off-brand variety. Please don't tell her. She has an uncanny ability to identify knock-offs and sub- quality items.  In fact, when I buy a variety pack of yogurts even