Sticking to a semi-regular weekly blog posting schedule has allowed me to sort out my thoughts in a way that I’ve lost track of over the week. Throughout the day, I’ll think “oh, I should write about this,” and then forget what I was thinking about.
Hell, these days I am forgetting more than I remember. This little reality is especially obnoxious for me as I historically forget NOTHING, and yet, I can’t remember who I spoke to on Friday night.
Today is a quiet day here at the house. I’ve been reading the news, listening to Theresa May’s condemnation of the terror incident last night in London and reviewing other leaders responses- some more measured than others.
I’ve been puttering around while listening to the Sunday shows, trying to make sense out of what is happening.
Bottom line, I’m out of words today. I had words and forgot some of them. The other portion of words that I remember, feel ill-timed in light of what is happening in this world. Navel gazing and pontificating is a special skill of mine, but today it just feels petty.
Go forth and do what you need to do today. Be aware, be kind and be a part of the solution.
It’s that time of the year again. That gutting realization that it’s time to shove your body into a piece of spandex/lycra and pray to the deities that everyone around you is either a.) blind b.) drunk or c.) fatter than you. It’s bathing suit season.
The magical time of year when women start losing their proverbial shit at the idea that multitudes of people are going to see them in a hell of a lot less clothing than they normally wear.
I had my annual freak out this morning when I was starting to gather some crap to run away for the weekend. I tossed a few suits into the pile and thought out loud “maybe I’ll just skip the pool.”
I am a water loving, sun-worshiping human. I feel better when I’m floating in a pool/lake/river/ocean. I’m nicer to everyone if I get some sun. I feel better about life when I get a little float time.
I am not, nor have I ever been, a super model. I have never had a body that stopped people on the streets. I mean, maybe if I was particularly cleavy, someone might pause and say “put those things away”, but I’m not one of those people that have a “banging body.”
I’m clearly ok with that, otherwise, I would dedicate my life toning/firming/surgically improving ALL of the things.
I realized this morning, that I still care, but I’m certainly not going to miss out on stuff because I’m afraid to let my big ass be seen in public. Or my thighs. Or my boobs. Whatever.
Life is short.
I was raised in a house that was the opposite of a naked house. Literally. We covered all of the things up. My mother has never in my life worn a skirt, shorts and certainly not a bathing suit. She has never enjoyed her body, always finding fault, and by default, has extended that to others. She has vocalized many times over the years that I should not wear revealing clothes because “no one wants to see that.” I literally wore baggy clothes, sizes larger than me until I was in college. Nothing makes a teen girl feel awesome than having your mom drag you to Lane Bryant so that you can buy jeans that don’t “hug your butt.” No one knew I had boobs until I was out of the house- I hid those under layers and layers of baggy clothes.
Life is too short to hate your body.
Mine is far from perfect. I get that. I”ve known that forever. I’m not going to hide though. I’m going to find a suit that is comfortable, doesn’t ride up the butt cheeks and hoik the girls up enough that I don’t look like a photo from National Geographic. I realize that I might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but there have been at least 2 dudes in the history of me that have tolerated all of “this.” I think it’s going to be ok.
Onwards to the pool. Hand me a drink and some SPF… It’s summer time!
Yesterday, I was lamenting, loudly, to anyone who would listen to me about the fact that somehow I’ve landed and become fully ensconced in suburban life.
This is the longest I’ve lived anywhere since I was a kid at home. Even then, I think I’m breaking records with the exclusion of the first 12 years of my life in GC.
I’ve got the itch. I’m starting to feel somewhat smothered. My friend Caren said it’s the siren song of the spring, to want to pack up life and head to the island for a summer of slave labor and debauchery. That was 20 years ago. Why is it that I still feel the strong urge to pull up stakes and head somewhere else?
When I came back to DFW, it was never in the plans to be permanent dwelling. I came back to recover from the last life failures, figure a few things out, and then onwards to the next place. I started traveling heavily with a fair amount of time being spent NOT here. I honestly fell into this life without really trying. It just organically came to fruition.
Now, years later, I sit on my front porch on Lavender Lane. I stare at the gardens, the porch, the rocking chairs that need to be refinished, and I feel a strong apathy to all of the things. Yesterday, I walked through the house thinking about what crap I actually would keep versus just easily donate if I wanted to make the next move.
The next move feels closer than it has in years. My head isn’t in the game anymore. The one thing I have done right in the past decade is to build a career that isn’t dependent on being in an office. Instead, I can work just about wherever as long as I have a computer and a decent WiFi connection.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always thought I would pack up my stuff and move back to Michigan at some point. Reentry into whence I came. It doesn’t feel right anymore. It feels like a step backward instead of a step forward. Perhaps at some point, I will actually commit to having a summer house in northern Michigan, but at this point, I daresay that the move back to the mitten has a low probability of happening.
I have a short list of places that I would entertain relocating to. None of them feel quite right yet. Clearly, my head isn’t quite there yet, but it’s not quite here either.
It’s as if I’m in a perpetual limbo just waiting to determine the next “where.”
I’m ready for my next adventure. My next gypsy journey. In the meantime, while I figure out where I want to be, I’m going to be hitting the road often. To clear my head, to gain some clarity. Onwards to Austin, North Dakota, California, Michigan, and Colorado. I’ve got some exploring to do.
Greetings from the coziest of beds here on Lavender Lane. Slow start to the morning, as it happens once in a while.
This morning, I’m feeling a little sluggish due to some meds that I’m taking. See, here’s the thing, about a month ago (ish), I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. It’s not a shocking dx, as the majority of the women in my family have had some variation of it, but it is a pain in the ass nonetheless. They have me on a med that, if i remember to correctly take it, keeps the joint pain more or less under control, but not as much as I would prefer. Some days are better than others. Yesterday was a craptastical day. I was having a hard time doing basic things yesterday like walking the pup. Actually, more accurate, I had a hard time clicking the leash onto the dog, but whatever. Some days it’s hard to pick up my Yeti. Other days, are totally normal. Yesterday, was a 1-2 punch with my hands sucking it and my ankle was really feeling it. I have to learn to be more patient with myself and just adjust accordingly. I felt shitty when a client called and I was having a hard time typing yesterday morning. Sigh. This morning everything feels so much better, so I’m going to chalk up yesterday to just a bad day and what I think might have been an accidentally skipped dose of my meds on Wednesday. Whatever. Get it together Kate.
I need to get it together. In all areas. I’m moving at such an accelerated speed lately that I realize I’m actually less productive because I have things in some form of moving chaos. My house is absolutely not under control and that is driving me insane. My gardens are a mess, my car needs to be cleaned, I want to do more me stuff and less other stuff.
Maybe I need to take a staycation and just get caught up on life? Possibly.
Maybe I need to start saying no to more things?
I honestly don’t know.
I feel like I got lost somewhere along the day already this year. Got distracted from my goal of extreme badassery and have been slogging in major mediocrity. It’s time to get it together. I have a project I am working on through the end of May. At that point, I’m going to say “no” for a good long while and get my shit together.
My house will be dominated (and painted) by mid June.
My car will be clean by the end of Memorial Day.
I will remember to take my meds every day.
I will spend more time with Weezie girl, who is starting to show major signs of slowing down, and less time managing Georgies crazy. I will spend more time with humans than dogs.
I will plant flowers.
I will spend less time holding my phone.
I will spend more time on the bike.
Most importantly, I’m taking a step back from managing everyone elses crap and focus on my getting my shit together.
In other news, this morning as I was perusing through YouTube, I found this video and now, yet another song is stuck in my head. I have loved this song since Josh Turner released it, however, I never knew Mr. Stapleton wrote it. OF COURSE HE DID. Another blog will be written about another time, featuring this song( 2009) when I was making a whole big string of life decisions, and driving around one night, in a big ass truck, listening to Josh Turner sing this song all the while eating Whattaburger… wait, where was I going with this?
GET IT TOGETHER KATE.
Onwards to walking Georgie, JLA golf tournament, and oh so much more crap.
And for the record, I’m probably going to listen to this song about 10 more times.