Thursday, December 11, 2014

Old Lady

I'm not old. I mean not really. Well... not old in the overarching sense of the word. But in three weeks, I'll be fertility old.

35.

My eggs will shrivel up and die the moment the clock strike 1:03am on my birthday. My uterus may actually fall right out of my body and scream in agony. It's like a bomb is about to go off.

But it's not. Those things certainly aren't going to happen AND infertility isn't suddenly going to get worse. So, why does this feel so awful?

Because society says it should. Because the internet wants me to believe that I missed the boat on motherhood. Because so many people think I've chosen to not have children and certainly, according to those people, I must be incredibly selfish. Because there are 100 articles about things to fear for every 1 article about having hope. Because we still live in a world where gender stereotypes make us feel like we aren't real women if we don't have children.

I won't let society get to me. Not now. It doesn't help. It might even hurt.

So hand in hand with my spouse, we will continue down the treatment road. We may or may not eventually conceive. We may or may not adopt in the future. And regardless, we will still be a complete family, because the truth is that two can be complete.

35 is going to be awesome.

Tuesday, December 09, 2014

My Most Read TripAdvisor Review

In a matter of days my TripAdvisor review of the Hilton Garden Inn where I spent Thanksgiving skyrocketed to the top of my most viewed list.
Good Location for Avoiding Your In-Laws
Do your in-laws live in the area? Are they way less fun than you expected based on all the movies you watched growing up? Do you wish you could find something else to do instead of spending all of Black Friday playing Aggravation and Sorry on a tv tray? If you answered yes, this is the hotel for you! A quick drive to Kirby Lane on Thanksgiving evening gets you primed for all night shopping. You are close to all your Black Friday hubs (Target, WalMart, Best Buy, Old Navy, etc). Now that you're done shopping, come back to the hotel for a quick made to order breakfast before taking a morning nap. Still not ready for all the stares screaming a mother's disappointment in her son's terrible choice of wife? Take a dip in the pool! Watch a movie! Get a workout in at the fitness center! Maybe stop by the shop downstairs and grab yourself some pain killer before you head out. Sure, you're no Brady Bunch, but at the end of the day, you can count on a pile of fluffy pillows and black out curtains to help you recover from the effects of another family holiday. 
Strangely enough, the only person who seemed to find it helpful was the general manager of said hotel.
Our hotel is the perfect location for avoiding your in laws. Next time your in laws are in town just know that we always have your back. ;) Thanks for the positive review. Enjoy the rest of your Holiday season.

Friday, November 14, 2014

Bracing for the Holidays

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Or perhaps it used to be and now I'm not so sure. Honestly, I can't say it's not my favorite, simply because I don't have another holiday to replace it with.

I used to love Thanksgiving because at our house, it meant family. Mom, dad, Nana, uncles, aunts, cousins, and siblings. Then we started to grow up and it was even more wonderful. All the cousins started bringing home their significant others and we multiplied! Shortly after that, there was a new round of babies... something our family hadn't seen since the early 80s. 

And then my mom died.

When you lose someone, people do their best to treat you with kid gloves for about 5 minutes. What they don't realize is that four years later, that pain is still there. It's boiling just under the surface. You have so many more good days than you did at the beginning, but it only takes a change in the wind to disrupt your thoughts and remind of just how empty you feel. 

In a world where it only takes the wind, infertility is like a tornado.

Fertility treatments do not, I repeat DO NOT, bring out the best in people. They are exhausting. The emotional and financial tolls are staggering. The disappointment over your inability to do something so basic to humanity, the betrayal of your body, and the fear that you will lose the person you love most because of your failures - all these are very real feelings. Not crazy person feelings... normal thoughts, had by normal women, on a very regular basis. The cost is always more than you expected - because if we're being honest, no one ever anticipates infertility when they are mentally planning their future. 

And while you are trying to beat your reproductive organs into submission, the medications and procedures continue to tax you in ways you hadn't imagined. Several times every cycle you have invasive imaging. You have hot flashes. There are epic mood swings. Heartburn and nausea ruin meals... but you're always hungry. Even when you try to watch what you eat, you're puffed up like balloon from bloating. Medications are taken orally, then through injectables, and then (brace yourself) vaginally. Some doctor or nurse is doing - under fluorescent lights - what you and your significant other should be doing in the privacy of your own home.

But I digress... Thanksgiving is the topic... and the holiday season in general. 

For someone trying desperately to have a baby, holidays are a minefield. Social media is always tough. There are always pregnancy announcements, photos of babies, updates on how blessed you are to have kids because they [fill in the blank]. At the holidays it multiplies exponentially and you can't hide from it by going off the social media grid. It's there, in your face, all the time. Seriously. 

All. The. Time. 

So, I'm bracing myself. I'm preparing to face my cousins, who now have 12 children between them. The cousins (and aunts and uncles and siblings and grandparents and friends and random strangers) who ask innocently when I am finally going to have kids. I'm preparing myself for the endless stream of commercials reminding me of the things I should be buying if I were lucky enough to have children. I'm preparing myself to be excluded from bringin a dish to the meal - I clearly don't know how to cook since I don't have a family (why exactly do people assume that my husband I don't eat?). I'm preparing for the onslaught of family themed Christmas cards - ones where every envelope is like a bomb that may or may not go off. I'm preparing myself for the family activities that are clearly not intended for families of two adults, but rather for families with children. I'm preparing myself to feel jealousy and loss and isolation. I'm preparing myself to be surrounded by people that don't realize my pain. I choose not to share it because I feel shame and embarrassment at my failure to conceive. 

Shame and embarrassment. For something that is not in my control. Something that I should be able to publicly discuss without wondering who is silently judging me for waiting until I was almost 34 to start trying to conceive. Something that can't be fixed by "relaxing" or going on vacation or just waiting until the universe decides it's our time. 

The holidays are difficult for many people. They are especially difficult for the families silently searching for solutions to their infertility.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Simple Halloween Treats for the Working Gal

Or really any gal or guy who doesn't have all day to make homemade goodies for Halloween. I mean seriously, who has time for all that?

Marshmallow Monsters

What you need:
  • Chocolate melter (Wilton makes one and it's awesome!), Double boiler, or two pots (so you don't burn your chocolate)
  • Large marshmallows
  • Candy eyes (yep, their a thing and you can buy them at a hobby or baking shop)
  • Royal icing in the color of your choosing (I used orange because I had some leftover from making cookies)
  • Sticks (plastic, paper, wood - you can also get these at a hobby or baking shop)
  • Chocolate candy melts or chocolate bark
  • Wax paper, silpat, or something non stick
  • Icing bag or sandwich bag with tiny corner snipped off
Prep time:
  • However long it take to melt chocolate and throw down a sheet of wax paper, you can figure it out
Directions (brace yourself, these are TOUGH):
  • Shove a marshmallow on a stick
  • Dip the marshmallow in chocolate (make sure it's covered completely)
  • Lay it on the wax paper
  • Drop candy eyeballs on it
  • Repeat until you run out of marshmallows, sticks, or chocolate.
  • When they are hard (you'll know because they lose their sheen and come off the wax paper), draw a mouth on it
  • Make up story about how long this took so people will be more appreciative
  • Relish in the applause from your adoring fans

Chocolate Marshmallow Monsters
Chocolate Blobs - The Answer to Your Extra Chocolate

Oops! You melted too much chocolate and don't have any marshmallows left? And you tried to make pink chocolate lips and realized it took way too long to use a candy mold when you were trying to finish before your favorite teen show comes on... the one you watch when your husbands out of town and only your BFF in Boston knows you watch? Well don't worry your pretty little head about that, there's no need to start drinking the liquid gold yet. Do you still have a few sticks? Some other random what nots in your pantry? Time to make chocolate blobs. 

What you need:
  • Leftover melted chocolate
  • Leftover candy eyes if you have any
  • Leftover sticks
  • Wax paper, silpat, or something non stick
  • Random what nots from the pantry
Prep time:
  • Umm... 30 seconds?
Directions:


  • Lay your sticks out a few inches apart on wax paper
  • Spoon melted chocolate on one end of the stick
  • Spoon another color of candy melts on the first layer (of you were dumb enough to try the candy molds and have more than one color laying around)
  • Repeat until you run out of sticks, or chocolate.
  • Toss on some eyeball or random what nots from the pantry
  • Let 'em harden
  • Do a little quality control (eat one)
Chocolate Blob
 Boom - you are the Picasso of Halloween treats my friend. But seriously, if you really are that busy, make the blobs, skip the marshmallows.

Happy Halloween!


Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Perfect Sugar Cookies

Nothing is perfect, except maybe these guys here. Everyone has their opinions on sugar cookies, but these ones cook up thick, hold their shape, stay soft, and taste like your Nana's love is all shoved inside. 

And did I mention they're simple? Well. Bonus for you - they are. 




Ingredients:

1 cup butter (room temp)
1 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla
i large egg
2 tsp baking powder (don't be a newb, that says POWDER)
3 cups flour

Directions:

Preheat oven to 400 degrees (Fahrenheit suckers, the United States shuns scientific normalcy)
In a large bowl, cream together butter and sugar
Add vanilla and egg
Mix baking powder and flour, add mixture 1 cup at a time (dough will be stiff)
Do not chill
Divide into two balls
Roll onto floured surface to about 1/4 " thick
Cut with desired cookie cutter
Bake on ungreased cookie sheet for 7-9 minutes (until almost golden - seriously they lose their magic if you over cook them)
Frost as desired


Sunday, September 14, 2014

New Guy Has People

New Guy has people. Not just people. His people. 

Let me backtrack. 

New Guy was raised in Texas. His grandparents passed long ago and family for him was limited to his parents and one brother. He would not have recognized extended family if he ran into them on the street. Or as I am fond of saying when I'm being snarky, if he had dated them in college. 

Which he didn't. If he had, it wouldn't be as funny. 

So his people have a family reunion in Milwaukee and I, being the pushy wife that I am, insisted that we go. 

It. Was. Magical. I might have teared up while snapping this photo. 
New Guy's own version of "Nana" - His great aunt
New Guy was not recognized by anyone - they hadn't seen photos of him since he was a small child. Once he explained his lineage from great grandfather down, he became the bell of ball. He was surrounded by his people. And they were so kind and so like him. They were engineers. They were welcoming. They were the family I knew he must have, because he is so amazing.
Just a few of the folks from New Guy's branch of the family tree

Saturday, September 13, 2014

Apple Holler

On a recent trip to Wisconsin for New Guy's family reunion, we drove past Apple Holler. There were so many cars and signs letting us know that as Texans in Wisconsin, we were about to experience a quintessential early fall activity - surely this was going to be mind blowing apple picking and good time family fun. 

Nope. 

It must have rained recently - again something those of us in Texas are not wildly familiar with. There were large mud puddles throughout the entrance and parking area. The goats that you can feed were in a pit of rank mud laden with goat waste. 

I get it. Goats totally use the bathroom, but wow. 

Too much. 

But mostly, my issue is - you have to pay $30 for 2 people to pick 10-12lbs of apples. Let me help the non-apple picking folks out there. That's around 30 apples. So, we didn't even go back to see the orchard because two people in the area for 48 hours before catching a flight home have no business carting around 30 apples. 

I wish Apple Holler had a wagon ride/tour option where you could just pick a couple apples and be one your way.  Seriously, I didn't even get to bust out the travel tripod. And everyone knows I love that thing.

Bummer.

Monday, July 28, 2014

Changing My Point of View

I will admit it. Sometimes work is a complete beat down. It can be a soul sucking experience that leaves you with very little energy to take home. This applies to even those of us with the most rewarding careers. Even when your work makes a difference, challenges you to grow, taps into your creativity and logic equally... even when you earn a good living and do it in the comfort of an ergonomically designed work space, it can still zap the life right out of you.

But there is hope...

I'm not here to give sage advice on finding you passion or living out your dreams. I'm not going to tell you how to get more responsibility, more money, or more staff. I'm not here to sell you the magic bullet that will forever silence your work foes and make you the most efficient, strategic team member in your organization.

I'm here to tell you to clean up your desk.

Yes, you. The one with the organized piles. I know you know where everything is, but seriously, you would still know where it was if you placed it neatly in a file in the drawer where it belongs. And from the drawer, it can't constantly stare at you, mocking you at 7pm when you still haven't cracked it open.  Trust me, I was you. It's difficult, but you will totally feel better. Admitting you have a problem is the first step.

Even on my best days, this monster was hiding under my desk. 
But don't stop there.

Now that the piles are safely in folders in drawers where they belong (or on the desk to remind you of their superiority over the other items from the pile), give your desk a good de-cluttering of office supplies and those papers you stuck up on the wall 3 years ago.  Ask yourself, do you need the phone list with the names of your former coworkers. What about the once useful shortcuts for your database? Surely you've figured that out by now.

Oh man, I'm a championship level pile maker. 
And now, it's clean. Make it yours.

You spend 8 hours every day here. That's if you're lucky. I left work last Friday night after 8pm... and I'm supposed to be a nine-to-fiver. Find what makes you happy and what you makes you unhappy. I happen to hate the fabric behind my monitor, so I covered it up. My husband, love him, so I brought in a couple photos. Legos? Why not. Digital frame with vacation photos? Sure! And a plant... something other than me to breath some life into this office.

Wow. I'm awesome and so is my office.
I'm not quite done, but I the small amount of work already done in this office has given a new perspective on my space. It's helped me refocus my work and get more done. At the end of the day, I'm able to clean up my desk in a matter of a few minutes. Not the best feeling at the end of the day, but in the mornings, I'm thankful to step into a fresh space without the same folder at the top the pile.

Total cost of office and attitude makeover:

  • Succulent pot - $20 for the plants and $15 for the pot
  • Fabric to recover built in bulletin board -  $4
  • Magnet boards on cabinet doors - 2 x $1 cookie sheets at the dollar store, $2 fabric, $1 for glass stones for magnets
Elbow grease and what nots from the craft bin at home rounded out this makeover. Just remember, if nothing else gets done in your work space... at least clean up the pile(s).


Sunday, July 20, 2014

Kitchen Remodel: Casa Orlikowski

When I first met New Guy, he was working on a remodel in his kitchen. When I moved in with New Guy two years later, he was still working on the remodel of the kitchen. When I got engaged to New Guy, the kitchen remodel was still in progress (his words, not mine, because "in progress" implies progress). When I married New Guy, the kitchen looked exactly like it did when I met him. He's so great (and handsome and funny and smart), but the kitchen was the black mark on his record for sure. 

Now, we all know I have tiling skills. All women should, but most seem to put this behind other great feminine skills like financial modeling, carpentry, and strategic planning. Women are so cool. But I digress. 

My dad came into town and for the 100th time, I stubbed my toe on the unfinished tile work. Dad said, "WTF!" or more likely, "hey, kiddo, what can I do to help you finish the kitchen?" So he snagged me a new blade for the tile saw, I guilted the hubs, and... tadaa! 
New kitchen!
Have I mentioned that we're moving? Yep. Hope whoever moves in likes their BRAND NEW kitchen. Though I may rub my face and hands over every surface just to mark it as my own before I leave.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Man Trade? Seriously?

Today I clicked on my Facebook notifications and was surprised that I had been invited to a group called Man Trade - DFW. Shocking as this may be... I am not, nor have I ever been - despite my broad shoulders - a man. I scrolled through the members... man, man, man, man, man x a couple hundred, and me. Well, now I'm curious. What could I possibly be doing in here? So I read on. 

NOTE TO NEW MEMBERS: This is a place to post crap you want to get rid of. I belong to a similar group call Beg Borrow Trade Fort Worth. It is a closed group and new members will be added by vouch only. If you have a friend who you think would be a good fit then shoot me a note and I'll add him. If he turns out to be a douche then it's your ass that might get banned. 
BBT is a good group but its mostly Baby Food, Tampons and Skinny Jeans. So I created Man Trade to get guy stuff going. Pretty much anything guys would be into is fair game...I'll even tolerate occasional BS just be cool. 
WARNING: Jerks will be banned!
Well! Despite the obvious issues with spelling and grammar, I am tickled pink to start posting!

After some serious thought, I decided to surround my very manly objects with things that I (a lady) owns like tools and a super, sweet ladder. I didn't want my manly posting to literally blow anyone's mind on the first day of Man Trade -DFW, so I figured the girlie things I use around the house all the time would knock the testosterone level down a notch and protect the skulls of the innocent.


I'm sorry to say there were typos in this.
In my excitement to get my first post up, I just lost my head. 


Sadly, that message below was me getting banned from the group. Though, if I read the rules right, the ass of the person who added me (apparently a douche or possibly jerk since I was banned), should also be banned... So, to the sexist, backwoods, uniformed ass who started this group and invited me - kick yourself out. 

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Nothing Screams Inadequacy Quite Like a Fertility Specialist

At least nothing screams as loudly in my head, pointing out my failures, as a needed visit to a fertility specialist. I am self aware. I pride myself on that. But being self aware and having the capacity to change every little piece of yourself you don't like and every situation where you could have reacted better are not the same thing. But, let's back up.

Dig back in my blog. I've only been married since January, so it's not like we've been trying that long. Well, actually...

We decided to live fully in sin (like champions of our own destiny) when we got engaged. Because we are in our mid thirties, we almost immediately came off birth control and decided to let the chips fall where they may. We wouldn't obsessively try to get pregnant, but whatever happened happened.

Nothing happened. Well, nothing good. My cycles were more irregular than usual, cramping had reached an all time high, and then there was a really unpleasant ultrasound... like inside...

Fibroids. A lot. Not too big, but several. So back on the pill I went. "Sometimes that can help them shrink or even go away", Dr. Ladybits said.

Success!

Then there was the matter of my health. I needed to lose 30 lbs naturally (check) and lower my cholesterol (check).

Still winning at life.

Then came the serious question, when do we really start trying? We weren't getting any younger and as it was, we only had a few months to try before I would either celebrate reaching advanced maternal age while pregnant or have to have a premature baby to avoid it. I get it. It's not like some magical switch flips on at 35 that forces you to have a baby with developmental or physical disabilities.But much like knowing I'll never be a size 0, it would be easier to let go of if it weren't shoved down my throat by every freaking media source.

I did a round of hormones and at the end of November we started the overly scheduled, don't even care if you're even having fun, very frequent, reproductive sex. Maybe we would be pregnant in December. After all, Dr. Ladybits did say this was our best window.

Well, maybe by January.

February would be a romantic V-day treat.

Or March?

April?

May...

June.

So here we are. Already knowing we won't be pregnant in July either (thanks to work travel for both me and the hubs... two tired travelers passing in the night).

We've had the tests. Another transvaginal (TV) ultrasound. Then the Hysterosalpingogram (HSG): an xray of the uterus and fallopian tubes that involves a cold table, a paper gown, and injectable dye. Followed by the sonohysterogram, where they infuse a saline solution into your uterus for (wait for it) yet another TV ultrasound. Then there's the peeing in cups and giving of blood. Super fun.

The silver lining of all these tests? We don't have to play the blame game. We know who's at fault. We know which one of us is crap at a basic human functions. That asshole who is at fault? That's me.

So, back to what I was saying. I'm self aware. I know that we haven't been trying as long as some others. I know that I'm not that old. I know that my husband doesn't want to talk about babies and our lack thereof every single day. I know that my friends don't want to listen to me cry about it. I know I'm a downer. I know that I'm slightly less than excited for pregnant friends than a better friend would be. I know that it's weak to cry in the car when yet another person around me gets pregnant. I know that it is a terrible thing to be jealous of others about. I know that picking fights with my spouse for not remembering what day I am most likely to ovulate is damaging to our relationship and unfair to him. I know, I know, I know, I know...

Monday, June 02, 2014

Bamboo - The Gift That Keeps on Giving

Oh man. I finally figured out who planted this stuff.

Satan.

The new casa has bamboo everywhere. Well, not everywhere. But on our property that is just shy of an acre, I'm guessing we have at least 1/3 or an acre of bamboo. During the remodel, we removed sheet rock from the bathroom and guess what was growing between the exterior of the house and the sheetrock... bamboo.

And in the crack between the porch and the beginning of the sidewalk.

And into the wall of the laundry room.

And all the way up the driveway.

And across the entire fence line.

Okay, you get it. Bamboo.

Here's the kicker though. We needed to level a VERY small portion of the bamboo grove that I will bamboo hill. Bamboo hill is a relatively isolated patch of bamboo... on a hill... but it's a nightmare.
My car on the other side of Bamboo Hill.
The front of Bamboo Hill pre-cut. 
 Prior to the removal of the bamboo, we started researching how to kill it and the internet basically says you'll have better luck finding a unicorn that eradicating this much bamboo. So, now that we felt completely confident in our ability to fail, we started cutting... and piling... and hauling bamboo. We suckered some people on craigslist into coming for some of, though I'm not sure how I feel about a bunch of bamboo weirdos knowing where our new casa is... but it was less we had to manage. So we cut, and we sprayed brush killer. Then we cut some more. Then we sprayed more brush killer. Then it started to grow back and we spray so much that the ground shall never be fertile again. So we thought.
Midway through cutting bamboo hill.
Some 200 bamboo shoots and several blisters into the process.
 The contractor brought in some heavy machinery to level the ground for the garage foundation and what did he find in bamboo hill? A maze of roots that broke the 5' x 5' wooden trash bin over like a cornucopia spilling forth the remnants of bamboo.
A pile of horrifying bamboo roots as proof that the internet was right.
We will have bamboo forever. 
 Now, I don't want to shock anyone trying to eradicate their own bamboo, but new garage, 4 quarts of concentrated brush killer, and a backhoe were used in this one small clump... and it's growing back. Green as ever.

Friday, March 07, 2014

Gmail

On the left side of the screen every time I check my gmail, my mom's name is there in the chat.  Just waiting to be clicked on. I'm pretty sure that after this long, I should remove her from the list. But, it's oddly comforting feeling like she's there in case I need to drop her a quick line. So, I leave it as is it. 

Thursday, March 06, 2014

Stairs

In an effort to stay in better shape and not lose sight of last year's health and fitness goals, I've been walking more stairs and using less elevator. In the morning, I park my car and wander down the six flights of stairs to the ground floor of the building.  In the evenings, I head down the ten flights of stairs inside, then outside in the parking garage I  head back up the six flights to my car.

Down 6.

Down 10.
Up 6.

Day in and day out, I wander (mostly) down, then back up the stairs.

At first, I would huff and puff and feel like death going both down and up. Then… not so much. Down, down, up... down, down, up. Every day it got easier. So, I started taking the stairs when I would go down for lunch or to mail a letter. Gravity was on my side after all.

But today. What an idiot.

Today, I decided to go back up the stairs in the office. It’s only a few more floors that the parking garage… A few more floors on which to sit down and die as your heart pounds right out of your chest before bloodily bouncing down all those stairs.

Ground floor: Golly gee! I think I’ll take the stairs back up! Wouldn't that be an awful lot of fun! Super plan!

Sixth floor: Are these flights of stairs taller than the ones in the parking garage? Oh well, almost there! Keep moving champ!

Seventh floor: Really? That’s what one more floor feels like? Crap.

Eighth floor: Oh! They have a card reader on their door. Maybe I can get out of this death tunnel on this floor! *BEEP* Nope.

Ninth floor: Sweet Jesus, only one more floor. With You I can keep going! No need to sit down now.

Tenth floor: Well. Huh. No card reader here. Why did I not remember that? Should I just go back down? Down isn’t so bad. I like down.

Halfway between the tenth and eleventh floors: Dear diary, there is something so discouraging about being so out of shape that stairs make the blood pump through you with such intensity that it sets off a veritable drum circle in your inner ear. My calves are burning with the intensity of a thousand suns. An icy hot overdose couldn't be this unpleasant. Is it possible for the heart of a 34 year old woman to actually burst in her chest? I hope not, seeing as though I’m a 34 year old woman… alone… in a stairwell… If anything happens to me and someone finds my body, please make sure Koda is taken care of and that David waits at least a year to start dating again.  Oh and tell people I made it to a higher floor… in heaven.

Three steps up from halfway between the tenth and eleventh floors: Oh. God. Take me now.

I’m not sure if the Lord actually came down and created a footsteps in the sand type situation where he carried me up the steps like a holy firefighter, but it’s pretty much an exercise induced blur after that. Somehow, I made it to sixteen where my access card worked and I was able to take the elevator back down to ten.

Interestingly, having sat here just long enough to pump out this short little post, my legs don’t hurt anymore.

Perhaps I’ll try again tomorrow.

Monday, March 03, 2014

Considering Taking Up Blogging for Lent

Or I guess taking it back up.

It seems I have again spent several months in radio silence with the blog. I could use the whole planned a wedding got married thing as an excuse, but instead of excuses let's talk about what made me circle back around...

A friend posted 10 truths we forget to easily. I expected the post to be something completely different from what it was. It's a funny thing, the mind. In the brief moment before the page loaded, I had already constructed the entire list in my head. None of them, it turns out, were on the list.

The truths that I forget too easily aren't the same as those forgotten by another. Sure, there are some things we all have in common... but then there are those pieces of the human experience (though they may be shared at a surface level) that are so personal that you could never fully express them to anyone else. For me, writing keeps me in touch. It may bore anyone who dares to read to read it, but it grounds me. It grounds me in the activity i wrote about. It grounds me in the experiences I'm having.  It grounds me in my internal dialogue - which let's be honest, can be a disaster.

So I thinking about an organized effort. Not one to gain more readers, because I don't want to be a food blogger... or a fashionista... or your one stop shop for something funny... or a DIY haven. I just want to be more grounded...

Grounded in whatever happens to be on my mind on any given day.

So.

Hmmm.