wandering, part 2...

i mentioned that i might have an issue with concentration. it really takes me a while to quiet the constant chatter that is going on in my brain at any given moment and focus in on what needs my undivided attention.

so to sit through (and not fall asleep) an almost three hour documentary about french monks who toil daily in complete silence, well, it was a challenge. the viewing was almost like meditation. the opening scene is a tight profile of a monk's head, resting on his clasped hands...he is deep in prayer. the scene went on, uninterrupted, un-cut for nearly three minutes. every sound in the theatre was magnified. the scuttle of hands in popcorn bags, the crunching of the popcorn, coughing, sniffing, shoe shuffling. apparently it took all of the patrons to settle into the silence.

scene after languishing scene...red flickering candle, raindrops in ponds, grass blowing in the breeze, lyrics of latin chants, snow falling onto the camera lens, celery stalks lying on the butcher block waiting to be chopped, boxes of ivory buttons.

when i had seen the preview for this movie, i had thought there would be a narrator -- a voice to explain the mysterious life these men had chosen for themselves, but no. complete silence, save for perhaps 50 words spoken in french on the monk's one day they are allowed to speak -- sunday.

their heads were so often bowed in prayer, it was unimaginable to me. i am not a religious person, but just the thought of immersing myself in deep thought (on any topic) for hours upon hours seemed like a insidious form of torture. however, witnessing this cloistered life in such poetic, voyeuristic detail was amazing.

i felt a sense of calm when i left the theatre. others, who shall remain unnamed, felt refreshed--as though they had taken a 3 hour nap.

what if...

i love the look of tattoos...no, seriously, i do. at the bookstore last night i saw a man with a spiderweb tattoo that spread out across his elbow. i thought it elegant. i also adore the "sleeves" of tattoos. to me they demonstrate such dedication to the beauty of the art form and often they tell a story about the person. what an imaginative use of one's own body to express themselves.

the waiter at the restaurant i ate lunch at had his eyebrow and his lower lip pierced...perhaps not my cup of tea, but it was definitely an interesting look -- a look that made a statement.

i've had long hair for at least the last ten years. i wear it long because i'm a wash and go kinda gal -- short hair needs a lot of attention, trimming and maintenance for it to look good all the time. but also i keep my hair long because kelly likes it long.

kelly doesn't like tattoos...or piercings. i respect all of those preferences, the same way he respects my preferences for no perms on men, tighty whities, speedos or hair pieces. it's a simplistic understanding.

but i do wonder how i would look, what i would choose to say to the world, if i had never met kelly.

i know i would have tattoos...at least one, probably more. the first one i would get would be wings on my back, big wingspan with feathers trickling down to the waistband of my blue jeans.

somewhere i would get a tattoo of a bird. one of my grandfathers had a blue bird on his upper arm. he got it sometime in the 1920's i suppose, before tattoos were fashionable and i'm sure there was a bit of a stigma attached to it. his tattoo went completely against my childhood image of him -- eating ice cream, making tomato soup with ham sandwiches and playing pinochle and yahtzee...yes, there would definitely be a bird...or two.

i would get my nose pierced...one of those tee-niny little diamond studs on the side. i love those.

and, i've said this for ages, but if i could, i would shave my head...maybe not down to the skin, but for sure less than an inch long. i shaved my head in college and it was liberating...that was before i wore makeup everyday or shaved my legs or wore dresses because i wanted to. i mean, come on, i was a women's studies major. i did it then because it was what i thought i was supposed to do. now i would do it because i want to. and that's more to the point anyway, right?

so all that thinking about how i would look lead me to think about how i might act differently, what i would have ended up being.

i know i would probably drink a lot more. maybe smoke (i know, i know. but when i did smoke, i really liked it). i'm smarter now than i was back then, so maybe not smoking. but definitely, yes, i would drink more.

i'm an impulsive person, impatient and into instant gratification. kelly is the tortoise in the race. he rarely, if ever, makes decisions he later regrets. mostly because he considers every angle of a situation and then does the analysis again to make sure he hasn't missed anything. something i admire greatly. i am a point and shoot quick-draw decider. in the long run, we balance each other out, but if left to my own devices, i know i would have moved a million times, regretted many things, but made so many other decisions in the meantime, that most of the missteps would have been forgotten and lost in my considerable wake.

i don't know if i would have had children. kelly is the only person i could ever imagine parenting with, because we are of such a like mind. i knew instantly that kelly would be a great father, even before he knew it himself and that is part of what drew me to him. so, no, i don't think i would have had children.

kelly makes me happier than i ever imagined i could be, or ever thought i deserved to be. much of my now well-adjusted-ness is due in no small part to kelly's persistence in helping me see what good dwelled inside of me and bringing that goodness out. so, although, if i had never met kelly, my outward appearance would be different, inside i would be sadder...definitely lonelier...more meandering and hapless.

so i'll forego the tats, and piercings and deal with a long head of hair to be more content and settled. i think it's a good trade-off.

160, 72, 40, 30, 8...

did you ever take a one of those IQ tests? the ones where they give you a string of numbers and you have to figure out the pattern and what the next number will be?

the title of this post is not one of those quiz questions...

it is the amounts of each type of flower i planted yesterday afternoon.

160 impatiens
72 of some yellow spiky flowers
40 red spiky flowers
30 red geraniums
8 weather tough yellow marigolds

see, i'm not so good with anything other than the most pedestrian plants.

other new items...10 bags of potting soil, 9 new two-foot long planters, 1 bag of river pebbles and 1 new soaker hose.

now, i need 1 manicure...

nathaniel, chance, c.j....

this photo was taken using an underwater camera. we had leftover shots on it from the snorkel/whalewatching trip in hawaii.

i have a love/hate relationship with baseball.

i love to watch nathaniel play first base. when i see his 6' 3" frame stretched out to catch a throw out, i am busting at the seams.

i hate to watch him pitch (even though he's very good at it) because there's too much pressure on him when he plays that position.

this season has been challenging. the team doesn't boast but one senior and four juniors. some of the boys on the team have never before played baseball...never thrown a ball or worn a baseball glove or fielded a grounder or judged a pop fly to the outfield, not to mention held a bat and stood in the batter's box facing down a pitcher who is throwing 80 mile per hour fast balls inches from their body.

there have been some shining moments...like when the rookie right fielder caught a stinging hit like a football, cradling it in the bread basket and then breaking into a beaming smile. but, more often than not, the team has suffered some crushing defeats. i think pro coaches would label this a "transition year."

next week is the end of the regular season, followed by a trip to the district tournament. historically, the team has never made it out of the first round of this tournament and we don't hold out much hope for this year either. but even with all of the trials this season has presented these boys with, they continue to show up ready to play a game they love.

next year will be nathaniel's last baseball season of high school. this is a year that will be marked by many "this is the last"s. and i'm really feeling nostalgic and soft and tender. so whether i feel nervous when he pitches or proud when he makes a great play at first or hits a line drive over the second baseman's head (or doesn't do any of these things) i want to be there to see it. everything could possibly be the last...even when it isn't.

duh...

i sat at my desk and realized i had left my delicious soymilk coffee creamer on the front seat of my car.

i grabbed my building access card and walked down the four flights of steps to the parking garage. i reached my car and realized i didn't have my car keys. all the doors were locked.

i walked back up the stairs, got me keys and went down the stairs again to retrieve the much sought after creamer.

back up the steps and back at my desk i searched high and low for my splenda packets. both pockets of my purse, in my bookbag...finally i opened the drawer where i actually KEEP my splenda and there they were.

in the kitchen mixing up my elixir of morning yummy-ness i thought that perhaps starting work at 7:00 a.m. is not saving me so much time.

w.b.w.

this little number is called, "tantalizing charm."

is anyone else reminded of a barbra streisand movie?

to wander wondering...

rows and rows of tables covered in books, magazines, LPs, CDs, tapes, movies, sheet music and maps. i fell to mindless meandering, skimming titles and succeeded only in making myself dizzy.

i directed my steps to where kelly stood, methodically perusing the pop albums -- focused and purposeful right off the bat. i stood at his elbow and willed my mind to pinpoint a singular desire -- one absolute must-have title. there i was surrounded by thousands, perhaps, MILLIONS of books and i couldn't think of one that i HAD to have. and then it came to me. housekeeping by marilynne robinson. now driven, i walked to the fiction area and searched, row after sideways spine row for that individual book.

if i had wanted bridges of madison county, i could have picked that a hundred times over, or say, women's room (the latter of which i heartily recommend), but alas and alack, not the novel i sought.

i did, however, pick out a number of memoirs (after i gave up looking for the holy grail) and my fair share of trade paperbacks (which, by the way, i much prefer to a traditional paperback; call me a snob, but the small paperback book size just screams, "romance novel" to me).

so my summer reading line-up is complete. if only i can focus in on what book to choose first, i'd begin already.

w.b.w.

" deceptively simple" and "utterly sophisticated"

i'll leave it up to you to decide which is which.

five year old me...

halloween 1970...5 year old heidi and her award winning, albeit moldy, kindergarten pumpkin. my mom made that clown costume. my sister becky's is matching, but in green.

i wish i knew who or what i had my eye on...

w.b.w. (on thursday)

please weigh in on this issue: which is more disturbing?

**the bow tie

**the hatchet

**the maniacal look in "the sportster's" eyes?

**the whole white knuckle grip package?

more maui...

at the summit of the waihee ridge trail

i can safely say that this vacation was my very favorite of all time. in my way of thinking it was the perfect blend of doing and relaxing, a delicate balance indeed.

four years ago we went to hawaii and spent so much of our time island-hopping we barely knew which island we were on at any given moment. but, of course, on that trip we got to see flowing red-hot lava, the southern cross and ride in a jeep perilously close to the edge of a cliff looking for amazing waterfalls to swim in.

this time we promised ourselves it would be different, and it was.

there was lots of beach time.

there was whale-watching (absolutely amazing) and snorkeling (i swam with giant sea turtles over a coral reef with tropical fish fluttering around my head).

there was hiking above the clouds, above even where the tourtist-filled helicopter flew into the valley. i conquered my fear of heights and made it to the summit.

there was resting (i read an entire book in one day lounging under a giant shade tree overlooking the ocean with a view of the neighboring islands of molokai and lanai).

there was the consumption of tropical drinks.

there was fabulous food (oh, to have just one more serving of macadamia nut encrusted opah).

there were too many rainbows to count...horizon to horizon ones, sometimes double!

there was a romantic starlit walk on the beach.

but, far and away, one of my favorite moments could have occurred anywhere, it just so happened to be on the lawn of our hotel. while i relaxed on a lounge chair, lazily reading, i watched my boys play catch in the fading pink light of the afternoon. nathaniel has been playing baseball since he was four so "catch" has been a big part of his growing up years. but this time, my heart was touched so, that i began to quietly cry. it was definitely a "sunrise/sunset" batch of tears.

as we gathered our belongings and walked in the breezy cooling air to ready ourselves for another spectacular sunset before going out for another fabulous meal, i reached up and squeezed nathaniel's broad shoulders and told him how much i loved him. his skin was sunburnt and warm. "i love you too, momma."

perfect, perfect vacation.

what i did on my spring break...

"we're gonna take a surfin' safari..."

thanks to mark from goofy foot, i stood up long enough for steve the mighty photographer to get this shot of me showing off my mad surfin' skillz. don't be fooled, mostly i just drank the ocean. but it was a great time!

i heart hawaii!

more soon...

w.b.w.

these ladies make me think of a 1960s version of the pussycat dolls.

****

true confessions...my newest guilty pleasure is "the search for the next doll."

a family debate was launched based on last night's episode during which mikey, the choreographer, chastised one of the girls for being too sexy/trashy/pole dancer-y.

nathaniel (yes, we watch with our 17 year old son) pointed out that the entire point of the pussycat dolls is the sexy dancing. how can something be too sexy? i get that something may be too raunchy, nasty and raw, but this girl's moves were no more slutty than any of the other performers, sometimes even less so.

note to readers: if you've tivo'd/taped this episode, spoiler alert (yea, like anybody but the wallaces are watching this show!)

for the elimination event the contestants performed dance/vocal routines in the pussycat doll lounge. and what is prominently featured on both sides of the stage in the club? you got it -- stripper poles. the girl who had been reprimanded numerous times for her go-go girl ways was eliminated. personally, i think they were just looking for an excuse to get rid of her.

but the much more interesting conversation we had was about those folks who hold the pussycat dolls out as role models for young girls -- women of empowerment -- women who take charge of their own sexuality -- women who do it on their own terms -- women who take back sexy dancing from the private realm of men and take it mainstream, putting it out there for everyone to see and enjoy in a non-threatening, "wholesome" way.

okay, admittedly, i'm biased as a former women's studies major, but really, can this be the angle the creator of the pussycat dolls is going to use to try to convince the american public that this group is anything more than what they are? the pussycat dolls used to be JUST a dance group. it's only been in the past few years that they've gone mainstream and added vocals to their repertoire. so perhaps the sheer act of legitimizing the sexy dancing genre is going to remove the "skank factor" and make it less porn and more pure entertainment. who knows? the trend seems to be to take it even more risque than less. of course, there's always the possibility that the course will self-correct, but i have yet to see any evidence of this happening. have you? it's like there are two diametrically opposed ends of the spectrum...the far christian right and the way out "more skin is better" camp. the middle ground seems to be shrinking.

does it sound like i'm sitting here typing this dressed in a high starched collar, long-sleeve blouse with a floor length skirt and button boots? i'm not. i don't 100% eschew sexuality, but i do cringe when it's used overtly (we could talk for hours about subliminal sexual messages -- i'm a self-proclaimed expert on that subject) to sell. in my opinion, it's a thin line between explicit sexuality used as a marketing tool and prostitution. i know, i know, that's a huge leap in logic, but the basic tenants of using sex to make an income are simple.

phew... i got dizzy when i climbed down from that high, high soap box.

anyway, nathaniel said that even if all of the above is true, that one would be hard pressed to find men who would say that they don't enjoy watching women dance suggestively. and it simply doesn't matter to men the motivations proclaimed by the women. sexy dancing with noble motives is still sexy dancing. and further, women will watch other women dance suggestively. therefore, the net can be cast much wider for an act with these talents and the appeal is greater. that's why the pussycat dolls are popular...men want to be with them; women want to be them.

you gotta love a teenage boy that can state it so succinctly.

8:09 a.m.

seventeen years ago at 8:09 a.m. nathaniel reid wallace popped into the world.

i feel blessed and lucky to have gotten on this amazing carnival ride called parenthood. one minute you're up, then down, then upside down and a bit queasy and light-headed, but with an ear-to-ear grin on your face.

nathaniel is a joyous human -- quick and witty, tall and strong, deep and sensitive...all in just the right combinations.

thank you, nathaniel, for being born. you have been the greatest gift to your father and i. you are the most momentous event we have ever attended and i, personally, can't wait to see how we all turn out.

muchos gracias...

bff, becky, gave me this b-u-tee-ful hat last night at our weekly knitting get together (really, we read magazines, lesley creates spectacular needle felted lovelies and we knit a bit)!

i was bowled over by it's fab-ness. i have dubbed it my queen hat. those pom pons are my sceptors.

it's nice to have such wonderfully talented and generous friends.

w.b.w.

the jacket on the left is something i might actually want to knit...

the hairdo on the model on the right...hmmm...looks like a wig hat.

sock-ettes...

it seems oxymoronish to call these sockettes when they measure nearly twelve inches long, but "men's peds" doesn't seem quite right either.


i made these for nathaniel with 1-1/4 skeins of regia sock yarn on size 1 double pointed needles. i'm sure for folks with feet of normal size (smaller than a man's size 12) it would have taken just one skein.



i used a pattern from this 1950s vintage pattern book, gifted to me from the wonderful lesley (who, by the by, needs to get on the bandwagon and start a blog)!


the pattern was so easy, and worked up so quickly, i've already started on a second pair, in a different colorway of regia. hopefully his feet will not grow to a size 13 before i'm done.

nicholas...

the year is 1922...before the depression, but immigrant families struggle as though the dark days have already begun. my grandfather takes his wax paper wrapped ham sandwich from inside his desk. the nun walks over and yells at my grandfather, "it is friday, you may not eat your ham sandwich!" the nun picks up my grandfather's lunch and hurls it into the trashbin.

my grandfather stands up and walks out of the classroom, across the schoolyard and into the prieist's house. he tells the priest what the nun has done. the priest gives my grandfather a nickel to buy a lunch from the butcher shop across the alley. my grandfather does just that and returns to the classroom where he unwraps another ham sandwich and eats the whole thing under the watchful eye of a nun who knows she is clearly outranked.

at ten years old, my grandfather already had a strong sense of self.

my grandfather died last week at the age of 94.

he lived exactly the way he wanted. everyone who knew him was inspired by his honesty, work ethic and ability to cut through to the meat of the matter to get things accomplished. he will be missed.

breakfast of champions...

i ate chocolate cake for second breakfast this morning. i felt i deserved it. nothing like rationalizing a food choice because you're having a challenging day...and it's only 9 a.m.

strong...

"revolucion" by francisco eppens

i bought this postcard in mexico city in march of 1986. i was spending a semester there immersed in a spanish language program offered through my university. i normally don't like images this raw with emotion, but something in this one spoke to me. perhaps it's the third arm rising from the back holding a machete. looks like the arm is part of a militant angel wing.

today i feel like i need to tap into whatever drew me to this image and channel it...fierce warrior, and vehement protector of turf.

w.b.w.

hey, you cool cats, let's listen to sammy and go to a "happening."

click on the image for a uber-big version where you can read the notes and get a real close-up look at the fuzz coming off of the ladies' sweater!

thanks to lesley for this wonderful "new to me" vintage knitting book!

seriously, i'm not that old...

it was 1980. i was a freshman in high school. i got a writing internship at "indianapolis magazine." my job was to gather all of the interesting events for the month of the upcoming issue and write a blurb meant to entice "hoosiers" (hey, that's what those folks from indiana are called) to attend said events. sounds easy enough, doesn't it?

what i didn't know when i took the job was that i had to talk on the phone with each event's organizer to gather the details. we all know how much i adore talking on the phone.

i showed up for many afternoons and pretended at gathering vital information. i looked at the information i had gathered and i thought about what would comprise an interesting two sentence description of the event. i deeply contemplated the concept of "who, what, where, when and how." i wrote two blurbs. i left a pile of information on my counter-top desk near the copier.

and then i stopped showing up.

i used my two month-long failed internship on my resume for the next five years.

and 27 years later i wrote a blog entry about it to clear my conscience.

give and take...

i went to the movies two times this weekend.

on saturday morning kelly and i saw "music and lyrics," the new movie with drew barrymore and hugh grant. first off i want to say that, thankfully, all of the clever things about the movie were not revealed in the previews or the 1,001 commercials i've seen for this movie. drew barrymore is expressive and adorable and, although a tad bit too young for hugh grant, was a good match for him in the movie's setting. and hugh? what can i say, but, "wow!" he has so many great lines, throwaway lines really, that made me laugh right out loud. i loved this movie and it made me feel good, which is always a pleasant bonus.

now, on sunday, the family saw "ghost rider." what can i say? nicolas cage, you can chew up some scenery, so you were the obvious choice for a character that nightly has to endure turning into a flaming motorcycle-riding leather chap-clad skeleton, but outside of that pitch perfect piece of casting, the movie left me wanting, well, an actual movie. and eva mendes must have the hardest working publicist/manager in show business because outside of her prominently displayed breasts, and MAN HANDS, she was having difficulty mastering the nuances of the ex-girlfriend of said flaming bone-dude. she was terrible...pure and simple. the plot? you ask...what with the contract with the devil and the hiding of a bigger contract with the devil and the devil's son wanting the bigger contract because of the sheer power of it all and the other water, air, earth devils causing so many distractions...not to mention a should have long been dead sam elliott character who tried to explain it all, i was not intrigued, impressed or compelled to try to figure it all out. thank goodness it was only four bucks a ticket.

so now, you, dear reader, get to try to figure out which movie was my choice and which was the boys'. i guess it's a no-brainer.

finally...

after making one scarf i decided i was ready for socks.

i got this book. i bought the recommended yarn at a now defunct local yarn store (LYS) and tried the simplest pattern in the book. i cast on no less than eleven times because i didn't yet understand how to knit in the round. but besides that, wow! that pattern was hard; a lot of knit two purl one-ing was going on and i gave up.

then i saw this post and fell in love with the yarn and dear miss alicia said she had made them using a pattern from a martha stewart magazine. but i already had the blue yarn from the cast off (pun intended) vogue socks so i made the ones from the martha stewart mag with the blue. and, never being one to take a hint, i decided to try the vogue pattern again with the new neopolitan yarn. either i was daft or that pattern is poorly written, but i ripped out the entire thing -- even after i turned the heel. cast on with the neopolitan yarn for the martha pattern, finished one sock and then took about eleventy billion years to even cast on for the second one. when i did, this happened. i thought maybe it was a sign. i thought maybe these socks were never meant to be. but i perservered and now look...

the first sock probably took two weeks to knit. the second one took less than a week. but all together it took me almost a year to knit this one measly pair of luscious socks.

and in my copious amounts of free time, i made this for my honey. please welcome "lovebot 86."

reach out...

i don't like to talk on the telephone -- you all know that.

but perhaps you didn't know that i am not so good at keeping in touch, in general. you could send me an e-mail and i will, most likely respond, but there's a good chance, i might not too. if you call me and i don't pick up the phone and you leave a message, i probably won't call you back. it's not that i don't like people, it's that i don't understand why people like me.

okay, that's not entirely true. it's that i like to think i'm humble. and with that humility comes the self-awareness that what i have to say is not all that dang important.

i've read a bit of miss manners in my time and mostly she counsels us to think that the things we have to say and the knowledge we desire to impart on the world are inconsequential compared to what we have to learn from those around us...oh yeah, and that responding to an invitation in a timely fashion is first and foremost on the scale of social decency.

********

i've been absent around here of late due to one or all of the following:

1. i have a wicked viral thing and it is all i can do to get my keester in gear every day and go to work;
2. my co-worker is going to be on maternity leave for at least another three weeks and four attorneys can sure crank out some work!
3. nothing exciting has happened lately...except a bunch of knitting and some finished sewing projects. pictures tomorrow. i know you can't wait.

'til then, please send me an e-mail and i'll probably get back to you, but please don't call me on the phone.

crabby much?

you know you're cranky when the fact that the last person in the copy room forgot to clear their column of used and pulled staples off of the staple remover makes you feel like gritting your teeth and stomping your foot.

whoa nelly...

my co-worker is out on maternity leave for the next six to eight weeks so the number of folks i assist has gone from two to four and a half (someone doesn't need much assisting...they're not 1/2 a person). so my work week has gone from a relatively laid back 40 hours to a whopping 55-60 hours. cuts way down on crafting time...not to mention, cooking, cleaning, sleeping, spending time with family and friends time.

but this weekend i did manage to make it into two of the stores where i sell my wares on consignment. i dropped off a dozen tissue holders and two junk bracelets (think cracker jack prize meets vintage sparkle meets jingle jangle bling) to recycled rose in kirkwood. and then i dropped off ten sets of my fabric cards to subterranean books in university city.

it's an odd feeling turning over your goods to semi-strangers and asking them to care for them and sell them. it's a feeling i can get used to though, as i'm not so good at self-promotion. both of these consignment opportunities came to me through friends who gave me an in and to both of them i'm mighty grateful.

it made me think about a lot of the cliches attached to success...

1) success is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration....

2) it's not what you know, it's who you know...

3) you need to be in the right place at the right time...

4) the squeaky wheel gets the grease...

i've worked hard, on and off, at making a go of selling my art, and when it comes right down to it, i like the act of creating a whole helluva lot more than i do selling. i'm pretty much a hermit at heart. although to the outsider, i seem at ease with myself and can speak relatively calmly to most people i meet without sounding like a total moron, inside, i am a blubbering mess. so the interactive part of selling can get me in a real tizzy. i think there are a lot of art patrons that enjoy the interaction with the artist almost as much as they enjoy the art itself. so i don't have the chance to make a connection with those buyers. i do tend to sell more to people who know me or who are at least acquainted with me; i suppose i am missing that boat in a consignment setting, but it's a trade-off i'm willing to make for my mental health.

i ran into a fellow artist at a bead store last week and she asked me if i sold a lot of stuff from my blog. the answer was simple, "nope, never, not once." i've posted pics here and not ever had a nibble. i even made a sister blog that was just about the selling of the stuff and didn't sell one thing. i don't know why. i don't even have a guess. i suppose i could try one of the on-line artist shops for selling. it all seems like a tremendous amount of work (the pictures, the posting, the e-mails with the potential buyers, working out the payments, the packing, the shipping, the waiting to see if the item arrived safely and meets the buyers every expectation, dealing with the returns if the item is not what they expected...on and on..and on). ugh...it could give the queen an ulcer already.

i mean, it all seems entirely overwhelming and i think it would even if i didn't also have a semi-stressful full-time day job.

so i continue to create and make and give and ponder what it all means (i do that quite often, in case you haven't noticed). perhaps all it means is that i have to embrace my own limitations. maybe it means that i am meant to create in obscurity until my death when my son will unearth my trove and unleash them on the world to great acclaim. but most likely what it means is that i will keep on putting time into making treasured items one precious stitch, bead, tiny glued piece of paper at a time and share them with the people i love the most.

w.b.w.

don't you wanna be their best friend?

well, i know i do!

friends...

one evening last week i went to a get together of local artists. turns out, some of them (most with whom i am merely an acquaintance) read my blog. they don't comment, but they lurk and read and were nice enough to tell me they like the queenly content. so nice!

then, a friend sent me an e-mail and said that a mutual friend had told her she should check out my blog and she did...and guess what? she liked the queen's musings too! go figure!

i guess that means my hit numbers keep going up not JUST because i'm constantly checking my own blog out, but because folks like me...they really like me.

phew...what a relief.

oops...

lying in a hotel room, i am watching a marathon of what not to wear. a real luxury because even though we have stepped out of the dark ages and got cable, this particular show is on a channel i don't get with the basic package.

i'm guessing that since i never get to see the show (except for when i'm marooned on a feather bed island), i might have missed a few hints and tips...like...

"no mini-skirts after 35."

excuse me, ahem, i have a little closet-cleaning to do.

weird times six...

1. when barefoot, i walk on my tiptoes. kelly pointed it out to me. i didn't know i did it. i knew my sister did it and that it drives me crazy. i can't stop, even though i've tried...now i drive myself crazy.

2. i can wake up at a specific time without an alarm clock. i just make a mental note before falling asleep of the time i want to wake up and, voila, i wake up.

3. i have an inordinately elaborate accounting system that includes an old-school ledger, an excel spreadsheet, my checkbook registry and a mental checklist of exactly how much money i have in my wallet at any given moment. this, in addition to my abnormally strong need to control everything, is why kelly can never take over the household bills.

4. once i start eating sweets, it is difficult for me to stop. m&m's? can eat a whole bag and not get sick. good & plenty? chocolate kisses? birthday cake? cookies? jell-o? drink hot chocolate? i won't ever get sick and i won't ever feel like enough is enough already. because of this, i try my level best to not start. i don't like salty snacks very much at all.

5. i have kept every greeting card that was ever given to me. this is going to stop, i think, because i'm afraid of turning into one of these. the thought of that creeps me out, especially given my predilection to organizing to the point of distraction (see also number 3, above).

6. i don't like to talk on the phone. at. all. there are rare circumstances in which i will talk on the phone, but 99% of the time, i try to get off of the phone within 3 minutes. this is in stark contrast to my mother and sister who could talk on the phone for 29 straight hours. this also makes it mighty difficult to extract myself from a phone conversation with either my mother or sister as they don't actually need a respondent to continue said conversation. but my phone rescue techniques are a topic for another entry.

tagged: becky

w.b.w.

honestly, when i went to college, i thought this was what everyone was going to look like.

easier said...

this weekend we went to visit a college nathaniel is interested in. none of us had ever travelled to this part of the state and we didn't know where there was a great place to spend the night. so we looked in the brochure from the college and chose based on 1) availability, 2) proximity to the college, and 3) price.

on friday night, when we pulled into the parking lot of the motel, i was immediately concerned. this was not a hotel, it was a hot-sheet no-tell. we were directed to a separate building with a series of connected bungalow type rooms. we walked into the room and i noticed right away there was no heat. in addition, the room was not clean...did not smell clean...was in no way, shape or form clean. i told kelly i didn't know if this was going to work for me. he reminded me it was just for one night and told him i'd think the whole thing over at dinner.

dylan, a a friend of nathaniel's, and his parents checked into the joint right after we did. we went to dinner with them and the friend's mom was also not too interested in staying the night in this establishment. the dad's talked it over, checked around the small town and secured alternate lodging arrangements at a well-known hotel chain.

we drove back to the dive and loaded up our belongings into our vehicles. the dad's entered the office to speak with the manager.

dylan's dad tossed the room keys on the counter and with a complete lack of emotion in his voice, stated, "we're going to need a refund."

the manager asked, "is there a problem?"

dylan's dad responded, "the wives are not happy."

refunds were promptly given.

those five words -- the. wives. are. not. happy -- apparently can convey a volume of information.

food or foundation...

i was reading in style magazine and the name of this product cemented my til then, unproven, opinion that the majority of the citizens of these great united states have way too much free time and far too much money to spend...

jelly pong pong venus magical pearls

this may explain why i have never, ever set foot in a sephora store. i'm afraid i would become at once ravenously hungry AND abnormally self-conscious about the status of my eyeliner.

w.b.w.

"let's have a swingin' record party and invite jimmy. he's the most!"

slippery...

ice on the holly tree...january 13, 2007

i took a trip to garden ridge last night to purchase some baskets to house my ever-growing yarn stash. the baskets were buy one, get one 50% off. so, of course, i got two. i never imagined that there would be enough yarn to fill both of the baskets. and of course, there was yarn enough and a few skeins on the side.

it's a dangerous thing letting your spouse actually see the yarn that has amassed in your stash. i could see kelly scanning the situation and mentally noting that both baskets were full. i suspected that his mind was already working on processing that fact. in a bold, decisive, preemptive move, i stated, "i'm not going to buy anymore yarn until some of this is used up."

now some may say that my declaration was asinine...there's no way i can go on a yarn diet until a project is finished. but i beg to differ. i can do anything that i put my mind to.* so to help me accomplish my goal, i arranged the baskets in order of project to begin next.

i put the purple sweater that will never end on the top of one of the baskets so as soon as i finish my legwarmers that will never end (can i say how much i hate knit 1, purl 1 rib? it really slows down my already turtle-like pace!) i will take up the purple sweater and get it off the needles for good. then there are the neopolitan socks that i really do want to wear before the weather gets warm again. how hard can one sock be to finish? one is already completely done! then there is the yarn for many, many felted bags and those always work up so easily and use up so much yarn. one of the baskets is bound to be empty by the end of february, right?

but here is the conundrum...this weekend i will be spending quite a bit of time in the car. i can get a lot of knitting done in the car. with some straight lite up needles i could knit in the car at night. problem is, all the yarn i have is for projects that are worked on circular needles. you see where i'm heading right? do i get a head lamp and work on one of the existing projects on circular needles or do i get a bit of yarn and lite up needles to work in the car at night?

i imagine kelly reading this post right now...he is asking the computer screen why i can't just nap in the car like "normal" people.

*kelly and i had been married for about a year. i wanted to start a family, but kelly was concerned about expenses and how we'd be able to afford another mouth to feed. he told me if we could save up $2,000 that we could start our family. at the time i was working at a department store making a little bit more than minimum wage. i also got a hefty discount. i'm sure kelly thought that the challenge would be more than i could achieve given the fact that i often left work with purchases. oh, but he was wrong. a little less than 6 months later i had managed to squirrel away more than the $2,000. never say i cannot rise to the occasion.

if i were a carpenter...

...and you were a lady, would you marry me anyway? would you have my baby?"

that's the way the song goes, right?

i can't believe that's the song that's stuck in my head today.

we had a surprise baby shower for my co-worker the other day. her husband is not a carpenter; he's an engineer. she IS a lady (not in the royalty sense of the word, but she is quite genteel), and she married him anyway.

what is it that attracts us to one another? i don't think it's our occupation. physical appearance -- of course -- plays a big part. but i believe it has most to do with the way we smell to one another.

i've seen a number of shows that deal with this topic. experts believe it is our instinctual sense of smell that enables us to recognize how a potential mate's DNA will match up with ours and how healthy the resulting offspring might be.

from the very beginning i liked the way kelly smelled, and he i. our son is tall and strong. chance? luck? probably. maybe, though, it had to do with our scents being a good fit.

i wonder if those that wear a lot of perfume or aftershave/cologne have a difficult time finding a mate that is their perfect match? what if they can't recognize one another because their natural scents are masked? what if they end up liking each other in spite of what their intrinsic olfactory signals might try to warn them against? would they end up not being compatible?

neither kelly nor i wear perfume or cologne. freshly scrubbed is my favorite scent and his as well. kelly works as a printer so many days he comes home smelling of ink and paper...not bad either.

i don't like the smell of sawdust, so i guess i never would have ended up with a carpenter. i hope i can still qualify as a lady.

a spark of creativity...

fabric cards...vintage and new fabrics.

w.b.w. (on thursday)

you would think that with eleventy billion calendars that the queen could remember what day it is. i feel like uncle billy in "it's a wonderful life" not remembering what all the strings tied to his fingers are supposed to be reminding him of. as a matter of fact, yesterday, i actually accidentally included some crafting directions i had printed off in a file that i promptly placed in an office file. luckily, when i was organizing to go home and couldn't find the directions, i retraced my steps and found the misplaced print-out. thank goodness it wasn't an $8,000 bank deposit or the feds might have been making an unexpected visit to chateau wallace.


anyway...here's some vintage knitting goodness for you to enjoy on a thursday morning.

i so want this hat, but does anyone know a man that would actually wear this sweater? the body of it is fine, but the almost turtleneck part has got to go.

jumping the gun...

when you're trying to have a baby, one of the worst things you can do is TELL people you are trying to have a baby. i believe it actually works against you, the telling, as all the folks kindly, but persistently asking you every other day if you've conceived, is enough to put you off feeling frisky ever again. not to mention the stress and the pressure ("s & p"). oh, the s & p!

then, once you have a bun in the oven, the worst thing you can do is tell people too soon that you are expecting...we all know what risks this scenario can bring. more s & p.

so when i wrote to you dear readers on friday that my weekend would be jam-packed with creativity and the production of fine handmade items, it was tantamount to telling you i was trying to conceive and then that i had very recently conceived. lots of s & p.

there WAS a great gathering of ideas, supplies and a general cleaning up of the creative space.

there WAS the creation of a fab desk calendar here with this great gal after a breakfast here (are we the last two st. louis residents to frequent this restaurant? because it was crowded with all manner of slipper-clad, pajama-pant-wearing, suspiciously uncombed diners who seemed to think that this particular breakfast food was a cure for whatever had happened to them the evening before).

there WAS a steak dinner and last minute christmas shopping (we still have not visited all the family my side of the wallace clan has to offer!)

there WAS a brief visit to see my gram while she recuperates from some nasty knee surgery.

i DID make some homemade donuts.

and...i made two sets of fabric cards. it's like saying i'm a little bit pregnant.

bitten...

the creativity bug has bit me hard and it's like there's a rash all over my body that needs to be scratched. when this happens i know that i should just call off work and stay home and get it out of my system, but that wasn't in the cards today.

instead, i filled my office bag with tear sheets from magazines and printouts from the internet in hopes that while my boss is at his business lunch, i will be able to get some ideas down on paper. when they're loose in my head, organizing the plan is all but impossible. concrete drawings and descriptions make the concepts feel real and doable to me.

i'm thinking in spring colors now -- jewel tones are so 5 minutes ago. i've seen some fabulous things that have planted a seed in my imagination and the germination is about complete. hopefully on monday i'll have a few new things to share.

of course, there will be more of the oldies but goodies. fabric cards will be back as will more brooches (with an added bit of pizazz). and i've set a goal for myself to create at least three new purses (knit and/or recycled felt) each weekend (the embellishments are going to be even bigger and better). and, i'm seriously thinking about jewelry again. i know, i know...that's a big list. but when the wave hits you, you have no choice but to grab your surfboard and ride straight onto shore. hopefully, you'll swim out again and catch another sweet curl. (are you tired of the surfing analogy yet?)

anyway...

if you're one of the folks patiently waiting for a brooch from me (hi, angelica and kim), chances are your patience will finally pay off this weekend.

day by day...

tallulah bankhead once said, "only good girls keep diaries. bad girls don't have time."

good or bad, i like to keep a record. something concrete to confirm that indeed, time is passing. a catalog of sorts, to remind me of all i've accomplished. let's face it, some days pass and you'd never know it if there wasn't something, somewhere to tell you what it was that you did.

and the calendar is a way to remember what the heck it is that you're supposed to be doing...dentist, doctor, return library books, call so-and-so, go here, meet this person...

as i sit here in my work-a-day cubicle there are no less than four calendars and i use each and every one of them.

***a vintage barbie wall calendar
***a desk calendar featuring vintage images gifted to me from my dear friend becky
***a personal journal/desk calendar i use as a diary of sorts
***an electronic calendar that is tied to my office e-mail

at home we have two page-a-day calendars in the bathroom (jeopardy and a weird word game one) and on the fridge hangs a vintage travel poster calendar.

there's a scene in the movie, grand canyon, where a mom is sitting on her bed and she is surrounded by piles of calendars. she's in the process of writing everything onto one large posterboard sized calendar, color coordinating and jotting and referring back and forth. a nightmare? to me, blissful minute organizing is a dream.

oh, and on saturday morning? i'm taking a class to make a personalized calendar.

have i crossed over the line? o.c.d.? or do eight calendars constitute a collection?

w.b.w.

does anybody else think this guy looks like frankie avalon?

let's call it a year...

i love the week between christmas and new year's -- filling in next year's calendar and looking back at the year that has passed.

so here is my personal "best of" list culled from the pages of my journal:

movies

friends with money
wordplay
little miss sunshine
the science of sleep
marie antoinette
the pursuit of happyness

(for those of you counting at home, i saw 31 movies this year.)

concerts

aimee mann
lucinda williams
the ditty bops

i saw five concerts this year. death cab for cutie was fine, but disappointing and the pink floyd tribute band that we saw on christmas eve eve was not as good as last year's show.

home improvement projects

painting the bedroom
installing a new digital thermostat

(this portion of the list is a testament to the outright boring-ness of my life!)

my fave picture of 2006...he's my 6 foot 2 inch baby and i love him.


hope you all have a great 2007 in store!

oops, i did it again...

the nail technician has just finished the top coat on the pedicure of the woman sitting in the chair two over from me. the tech stands up and turns to push her stool away so that the woman can awkwardly get up and walk to the area where she'll receive her manicure.

just as the woman is about to move her feet over to extract herself from the chair, she swishes her freshly painted christmas red toes against the technician's lab coat. all the polish comes off in ten tiny graffiti swipes.

i can see the tech's expression, but her back is turned to her client. her grimace is a mixture of, "holy crap," and "how can i punch her in the face and still get a tip?" but when she faces her customer again, she says with a slight smile on her lips, "that's okay. we'll fix it right up."

and that, dear reader, is why i could never do this particular job...i'm not a good enough actress.

w.b.w.

sisters! sisters! there were never more devoted sisters.

a year of december...

teresa of maggiegracecreates has challenged craft bloggers to make a list of 12 handmade gifts (one for each month of the year) they will commit to making in 2007. this should help us avoid the last minute crafting crunch many of us got caught in (yea, right).

i can't list most of the handmade gifts i'd like to make for christmas next year, but i CAN list 12 christmas crafts i'd like to make for myself that totally did not get done because i was so busy getting gifts bought and made. here goes:

january -- pom pon garland (this has been on the to-do list since LAST christmas)

february -- dress ornaments made from cheap-o craft felt with the help of my sizzix machine

march -- new stockings for the wallaces made from felted sweaters embellished with our names needlefelted using martha's stencil instructions

april -- gum wrapper style garland made from old sheet music (i started this one when i was recuperating from surgery in january of 2005...i need to either finish it or send it to the recycle bin)

may -- forest of stuffed trees ala little birds

june -- yo-yo garland ala hello my name is heather

july -- make a village of little cardboard houses covered in glitter and sparkles

august -- maybe i'll finally finish MY gingerbread house i started on 12/10/06? editor's note: i threw the whole kit and kaboodle in the trash on christmas eve morning. i decided i didn't need another nagging project hanging around...i didn't even miss it when it was gone.

september -- work on making christmas cards

october -- i feel like at least once in my life i need to make a popcorn/cranberry garland, don't you?

november -- make giant snowflakes for the dining room windows

december -- make homemade hot chocolate mixes to give as last minute gifts (these were so delish and such a big hit at this year's gingerbread house party, i want to make it a tradition!)

i AM going to make a list of handmade gifts for each month, but i think i'll keep that under wraps.

***
i shopped a lot yesterday...got ten presents crossed off my list for next year. now if i can remember where i've hidden them next year, that will be a good thing.

***
on another note: this year, i finished all but one gift/craft item by christmas. this is in addition to kelly's knit cap that i completed on christmas morning. he wore it and watched a couple of episodes of the original star trek while i napped on his lap. the perfect christmas day, if i do say so myself.

hope yours was merry.

an embarassment of riches...

my sweet friend, lesley, made and then gifted me with this exquisite needle felted pin cushion as a hostess gift for my gingerbread house party. i about fainted from delight. i placed it on a high shelf where seven-toed cats and baseball glove-wearing men couldn't topple it or sniff it or bother it in any way. then i adored it some more. see the little "insects?" those are tiny straight pins embellished with shrink-plastic. they are quite detailed and so perfect on this elf-like toadstool.

then, last night, she gave me this...

it is as perfect a confection as ever there was. layers and layers of "cream" and cherries (i sincerely think cherries are the most fab fruit ever! and yes, more wonderful embellished pins.

and that was not all! oh, no! there was an envelope filled with vintage christmas stickers, a vintage christmas apron (i wore it while watching "britain's next top model" when i got home), a luxurious length of vintage flocked wall-paper, homemade fudge (yea, that got eaten while watching rail-thin models strut their stuff, hence the need to wear the apron), and the sweetest note that sincerely made me turn into mush inside.

it was the perfect way to kick off the christmas holidays! thank you, lesley...you made my heart grow two sizes today!

w.b.w.

girl elves!

730 days...

...cancer free. 1095 days to go 'til my five years are up.

i got turned down yesterday at the office blood drive. i never even thought that having had cancer was an automatic disqualifier for donating blood. the little five minute interaction with the nurse made me quite emotional. the tears didn't start to fall until i was in the stairwell of my office building, but i couldn't put my finger on why it made me cry until i was home and in the sanctuary of my bedroom.

it made me worried that the cancer would come back.

i know it won't come back...because i have a feeling that it won't and, more importantly, the odds are against it.

but when a very official nurse-type tells you that you can't do something that you thought you were 100% healthy enough to do, it can give a girl reason to pause and think about why the nurse-type would say that.

the very logical part of my being knows that it has nothing to do with me specifically...that there are tables and charts and graphs that tell the medical community that most of those with cancer shouldn't give blood because of the possibility that the cancer could be laying dormant in their systems.

it is not about ME.

but honestly, i really just wanted the free sweatshirt.

hey there!

i'm back...in a bit of a crafting frenzy these days--mostly things i can't share here because they're presents or in process and not ready for public viewing or still in the idea stage or my camera's never where i need it to be at the right time or i'm too exhausted to think about blogging and/or taking an object's picture.

and i just realized i have about 15 more items to sew, embroider, felt, bead, than i had originally thought. you know what that means, right? a night in the craft dungeon for me.

although the above two paragraphs may sound like i'm overwhelmed, oddly, i am not. energized. excited. filled with the christmas spirit, actually. it is, after all, only time...and time is infinite (at least that's what i keep repeating to lull myself to sleep each night).

winter gal...

the cd in my car is joni mitchell's hits. my older sister listened to joni when she was sad. her husband would walk in the door, hear joni's voice coming out of the stereo speakers and brace himself for the sight of the puddle of a girl he was sure to find huddled on the couch. it helped her get over the sad--pulled the tears out of her and dried them up too.

me? i like to listen to joni when i feel just fine. the music makes me want to live the artistic life...bowls of oranges on the table and beads hung in the windows...imagining i had a secret past with a short love affair that ended with him longing for me for the ages and me smug in the knowledge that i was the tops for him.

mostly, though, i play joni at holiday-time. my favorite, non-traditional, christmas song is her "river" (lyrics follow). the plinky plinky piano accompaniment is so melancholy it never fails to pull one tiny tear out of the corner of my eye each time i listen. let's just say i had it on "repeat" this morning.

It's coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
But it don't snow here
It stays pretty green
I'm going to make a lot of money
Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I made my baby cry
He tried hard to help me
You know, he put me at ease
And he loved me so naughty
Made me weak in the knees
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I'm so hard to handle
I'm selfish and I'm sad
Now I've gone and lost the best baby
That I ever had
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river

I made my baby say goodbye

It's coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

w.b.w....

inca-dinca-doo!

so sweet!

take ten creative, fun, adventurous women and throw in 40 gazillion pounds of candy and royal icing and you end up with hours of fun and 10 completely different gingerbread houses! my house smells like christmas and halloween all rolled into one....mmmm....sugar.

meme...

can't remember where i got this, but i found it when i was cleaning out my bag this a.m. thought i'd share it. i thought it kind of cool that you, as the reader, have the chance to see my handwriting. here are my answers if it's too hard to decipher up there.

my name is heidi sue wallace

childhood ambition to be a nurse

fondest memory 3-way tie -- 1) day i got married 2) day nathaniel was born 3) day i found out my cancer was gone

soundtrack "stealing beauty"

wildest dream to join the peace corps and work in central america

proudest moment each and every time i see nathaniel

biggest challenge being patient and easygoing

alarm clock don't need one...i wake up early, early, early on my own

perfect day wake up early and drink coffee and knit 'til kelly wakes up, eat breakfast, lunch and dinner out, oh the bookstore, thrift store shopping and yarn store

first job babysitting -- i HATED it!

indulgence dove dark chocolate

last purchase shhh, it's a secret for kelly

favorite movie when harry met sally

inspiration the world is my inspiration

my life is a pink & green merry-go-round

my blog (well you're here aren't you?)

reminders...

late autumn of the year 1984 i was 19 years old. the thought of going home during my six week break between thanksgiving and the new year felt like an existential game of "mother may i" and i decided to stick around small town middle usa and work my campus job. i worked in the college post office. i sorted mail into the ornate student mailboxes and picked up and delivered to all of the classroom buildings, three times a day. i earned not a penny for this job as all of my "earnings" went toward my portion of my tuition. (it turns out that this decision was one of my worst financial mistakes as i had yet to learn that my work study portion for the year was to be forgiven when i went abroad the following term, and i could have/should have gone home and worked a regular job and actually made money, but the independence was worth the self-imposed poverty, i suppose.)

i lived in the home of a sociology professor who was on sabbatical. it was cottage style and decorated with all manner of danish inspired pieces. in my sophomoric mind, it was the height of academic sophistication. i shared the house with my spanish professor and her aide. it was then that i learned to appreciate the calm afforded by preparing meals as a community, carefully choosing ingredients and spices while thoughtfully listening to npr. the food was simple and comforting, almost always vegetarian and filling. my housemates were introspective and mellow. i was a loose cannon comparitively and i caught them on more than one occasion, shaking their heads at my choices (personal and fashion-wise). i rode an old one-speed schwinn between my job and the house. i didn't own a proper coat, so layering was the order of the day. army pants, three sweaters, mis-matched mittens and a hat i procured from the lost and found to cover my shaved head. i spent what little money i had on marlboro lights. the house was without a television so i spent my evenings often alone in the study turned my bedroom--reading, writing, smoking and listening to kate bush, joan armatrading, and prince.

on the way to work this morning, the light was exactly the same as it was when i boarded my bike and headed to work and it was just as cold. i remember the satisfaction of smoking the first cigarette of the day in the cold, how the smell could be fresh and lingering. how good coffee tasted...how special i felt toting the mail on the deserted campus. how original it all seemed.

when the students returned after the new year, i was protective of the grounds and the sidewalks and the light in the morning. i didn't want to share it. i wanted to hold it close and guard it from the casual attitudes and loud voices.

those six weeks were the last time i was truly alone in my life. i gave up smoking and solitude and traded those in for a lifetime of devotion and caring and company (all very good things). but this morning i really wanted to stand out in the sunrise and watch smoke curl from between my lips and be 19 again.

w.b.w. {one day late}

happy 20th {engagement} anniversary, baby (also one day late)!

sage advice...

first off, let me say, quite honestly, that i love the holiday season. i love it even more when the weather cooperates and fulfills my dreams of cold air and snow-covered ground. it feeds my obsession toward perfection like nothing else can. i tell you that because this past weekend when the world got covered in twinkly ice and, what my mother likes to call, "white death," my over-achiever holiday self kicked into high gear and the vortex of disappointment began.

yesterday i typed up a list of things i'd like to accomplish by this weekend and before THE BIG DAY. this morning at the breakfast table, i added to the list. it's now over a page and half long. "unrealistic" does not begin to describe the magnitude of what the list encompasses. kelly, ever so gently, and with twenty years of experience behind his words, suggested that i might want to prioritize. i held the list where he could see and pointed out that i had already done that...the items i wanted to get done before sunday were in bold. if those got crossed off, then i would move on to the items that were italicized. if the heavens aligned, then i would work on the list of things in plain type. of course, up to that point, i hadn't added handwritten items to the list. the question then was, should i re-type the list? re-prioritize? adding new bolded items and deleting items i accomplished last night. or do i leave it as is and look on the list itself as not another project, but a helpful guide?

in the shower i thought of more items to add.

dear reader, "vortex of disappointment" sounded like an exaggeration two paragraphs ago, didn't it? do you grasp the magnitude of what i'm dealing with here? it's like i can't stop. and no amount of dove dark chocolate promises wrapped in a foil fortune that tells me, "it's okay to do nothing," will right my course.

and then i came into work.

overnight we had received a daily fax newsletter that is actually a giant advertisement disguised as a newsletter. i don't usually read it, but this morning, something caught my eye--a column on holiday depression. and in bold letters were the following:

don't let the holidays rule your life.

make sure to get enough sleep.

save some alone time.

try to be realistic.

to tie the word "depression" with my tendency towards obsessive behavior stopped me cold. over-achiever heidi is going to have to take a back seat this season so rational heidi can take the reins.

can you say "wake-up call"?

photo booth monday...

happy***sad***scared***kissing

oops...

photo booth friday has morph-ed into photo booth monday, okay?

the weather here in "the lou" has thrown us for a loop. midday yesterday the ice, sleet and freezing rain poured down. by the time i left my office there was a thick layer of ice covering my car--freezing my car doors shut. oops.

two hours later i pulled into my driveway. last night was the very first time in my 23 years of licensed driving that i drove in ice/snow. it was about time, wasn't it?

i am a spoiled queen. since kelly works for a school district, whenever there is bad weather, chances are that he doesn't have to go in (he and nathaniel share the television vigil on nights with bad weather). since i DON'T work for a school district, i still go to work in the bad weather. hence, kelly has driven me to and from work on bad weather days for the past 20 years. but yesterday the bad weather came in the middle of the day. it was not bad, really, but i did call kelly before i left just to confirm the correct driving tactic if i were to go into a slide. i think that call might have concerned him a bit. but i made it just fine and now i know that if, in the future i start to swerve, to turn into the swerve and take my foot of all of the pedals.

yes, i'm learning.