Checking In

A few days back I noticed that my final pair of shortie white socks had a hole in them, so I jumped over to Amazon and ordered 12 socks which is also 6 pairs of socks. Imagine my surprise when the UPS man delivered 12 PAIRS of socks which is also 24 socks! I got all excited but then I wondered if someone was going to be in trouble for sending a double order of socks my way. Come to find out, I was never given the option of ordering 12 socks. I misread the product description because I’m old and my brain is no longer as sharp as it used to be! Such a great story, right? Not so much?

My week has been full of not so great stories. Jeff was in Tucson and the cats were very worked up about his absence so they took the opportunity to wake me hourly by attacking my feet. (Claws through two quilts can still draw blood!) Because my face is a disaster right now due to overconsumption of coffee (because it’s difficult to sleep when you are afraid you might wake up without feet), last night I drizzled olive oil over my head (thereby consecrating myself for religious service) before bed. Instead of waking up to mangled feet, I woke up to two cats licking my chin and ears. (Fun Fact: Olive oil in moderation can help with feline constipation!) My vet-grade claw trimmers will be arriving tomorrow. (I think I ordered one trimmer, and I think I’m safe because even a pair of scissors is one item and not two!) Face Update: Today I’m looking all dewy, which has everything to do with luster and nothing to do with a decimal system although I *did* go to the library today to pick up the CDs for The Nightingale so I can listen while in the car and read while at home.

Tempe posted this last week and it continues to haunt me.

(I purchased the song and I listen to it at least three times each day, mostly while looking up and to the right as if I’m contemplating something mysterious which is something I’m nearly always doing regardless of the background music.)

((I haven’t seen many people face-to-face this year. I need to fix that. In the meantime, I’m still doing yoga and practicing my lettering skills and bandaging my feet.))

(((I hope you’re the same, minus the bloody stems.))) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

The final bee is under our belts.

In 2012, Meredith participated in her school’s spelling bee.

In 2013, Meredith participated in her school’s spelling bee.

In 2014, Meredith participated in her school’s spelling bee. (It was her final year to participate, and she won.)

In 2015, Harper participated in her school’s spelling bee and although she did a great job, she didn’t want me to talk about it at Fluid Pudding.

Yesterday morning, Harper once again participated in her school’s spelling bee. Because she is now in the fifth grade, this was her final year to participate.

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Harper and Meredith are two very different birds. When Meredith made it into her school spelling bees, she studied her ASS off because she wanted to win. She sat with that list of words every single night and constantly asked us to quiz her on words that were especially tricky. Harper? She was proud that she made it into the bee both years at the new school, but when it was time to study the list she wasn’t into it.

Harper: I just don’t want to be the first person out.

Me: But what if every single other person in the bee is studying like crazy?

Harper: It’s fine.

Things tend to come easily for Harper. She tested into the gifted program in kindergarten, which is the year she wrote a poem that was published in the school’s literary magazine. (She was able to read it at a reception honoring the contributors, and if you follow this link you can watch the reading. (Please know that I’m unable to watch that video without clutching my chest. (My mammogram was normal, by the way.))) Harp is currently the student council president at the new school. She tutors. She sings in the choir. She’s funny and she’s an extremely loyal friend. She doesn’t stress herself out for things like piano recitals and spelling bees, because honestly? I think she knows that in the scheme of things, it’s just sort of cool to be there. (Harper has taught me a lot. Harper continues to teach me.)

Anyway, Harper made it through 15 rounds in yesterday’s spelling bee before she was taken out by Mazel Tov. At that point, 5 of the 21 spellers remained. (I think the bee went 20 rounds before the boy who won last year won again.)

Woman Next To Me: Mazel tov? That’s a really tricky one!
Me: Not if you’re Jewish!
Me: We’re not Jewish.
Me: We go to a UCC church, but I’m a Baptist/UCC blend.
Me: Oh. I guess the bee is still happening. Thank you!
Me (to myself): Thank you? Why am I like this?

When I picked Meredith up from school, I told her that Harper made it through Round 15 before Mazel Tov did her in.

Meredith: When she gets home, I’m going to say “15 rounds is an awesome accomplishment! Mazel tov!”
Me: Don’t. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Choosing mantras for my pranayama, as you do.

If you’ve been with me for a bit, you know that I’ve been a little floopy lately with nose hoops and yoga and meditation and breathing and cat adoptions and power greens. (A side effect of my migraine preventative is impulsivity. So far, my impulses have led me toward more good than evil (also more olive oil than canola), which I believe is a natural inclination for me. I haven’t had a dead guy in my trunk for nearly two decades. (At this moment in time, my trunk is filled with old magazines and hot sauce, so I don’t really have room for People Who Need To Hide/Be Hidden.))

Bob Dylan once said, “Act the way you’d like to be and soon you’ll be the way you’d like to act.” Several other people have said similar things. Hell, before I even read the Dylan quote I used to try to dress like Amélie with the hope that I would eventually BECOME Amélie. Just forget the Dylan quote. (Don’t really forget it. Unless you want to. I’m not your boss.)

In November of last year, a good friend of mine sent this to me and it resonated:

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I’ve probably read that quote at least 50 times in the past two months and I love it because it seems to expand on something I read several months back that asked: How different would life be if we focused on all of our senses the same way we focus on the sense of taste? Also, if I protect my time and keep good sentences in my ears will I eventually become the natural fiber wearing drama free relaxed motivator that I want to be? (What I want to be is begging for some hyphens, but I’m okay without for now.) I WANT to be a good steward of my gifts after I determine what my gifts are. I NEED to avoid too much noise.

I feel like I’m all over the place right now. Let’s just slow down a little and hang out in Tuesday for a bit.

On Tuesday morning I met up with a friend for a yoga session at a church and it looked a little something like this:
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It was peaceful and perfect and it was exactly where I needed to be on Tuesday morning. Afterwards, despite the below freezing temperatures, we walked a nearby labyrinth.

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(My friend is a photographer. The friend who shared the Kenyon quote is also a photographer. Both are talented and authentic and I really love knowing the people I know. You’re one of those people, you know.)

While walking the labyrinth I thought about David Bowie (obviously) and I thought about a friend whose husband recently died and I thought about how I could see my breath and how much things have changed (for everyone) in the past three years.

After the labyrinth, we enjoyed lunch at The Hot Pot where my friend told me about her chosen word for 2016. Every year she (and every member of her family) chooses a word for guidance through the next 365 days. The word she chose for 2015 was what led to us hanging out and becoming friends nearly a year ago. I won’t share her words because they’re her words, but I will say that I went home that afternoon completely jazzed about choosing a word for myself (or two words, and the reason I say “or two words” is because I chose two words. There are no rules!).

My primary word for 2016?
Release.

My secondary word for 2016?
Inspire.

This year I’m going to focus on letting things go. Grudges. Toxic relationships. Guilt. Stress about things that aren’t under my control. Anything I might do that could harm someone or something. Anything I might do to harm myself.

I’m also going to focus on lifting others up and to control my tendency to sit back and watch.

The combination of releasing and inspiring also connotes exhalation and inhalation.

I own seven pairs of Birkenstocks and I’m trying really hard to not use the word Journey.

What will your 2016 word be? (My tertiary word is Burrito.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

What You Need to Know

1. All About My Mammogram

I had my annual mammogram appointment on Monday. (If you’ve never had one, I explain the entire process over here.) Anyway, my past two mammograms were abnormal which led to more scrutiny before I could receive my final Nice Chest! certificate to hang in the foyer. In other words, the dénouements of Cancer Scare 2014 and Cancer Scare 2015 were as anti-climactic as Y2K. (Thank God.) BUT, that isn’t stopping me from feeling a bit restless in 2016. I should have a letter in ten days.

As I sat in the mammogram waiting room, a woman entered the office and said the following to the receptionist:
“Hi. My mammogram appointment is scheduled for next week, but I was in the area, so I thought I would go ahead and have it done today.”

Receptionist: So, you don’t have an appointment scheduled for today?
Woman: No. My appointment is next week. BUT, I want it rescheduled for today.
Receptionist: Are you having any problems?
Woman: No. But like I said, I was in the area, so today would be better for me.

Believe it or not, they worked her in. They were booked solid, yet they worked her in and I still don’t know if I should hiss or cheer. (My grandma used to show up for appointments a few hours early with the hope that she could be worked in. This woman took Grandma to a whole new level.)

2. All About My Hair

This morning I had a haircut appointment at 9:30. For the first time in ages I took in a Dreamy Hair photo, which was sent to me by a woman who once shaved some triangles into the side of my head and then allowed me to amble around in a tiger suit. I trust her completely, even though I wasn’t allowed to attend my Uncle Ray’s funeral because of the triangles.

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When I asked my tress artist (I just made that up) how long it would take to achieve the hair in the photo, she told me that I could have it in March if I was able to chill out and let it grow. This afternoon I will cast on a bright green beret to take me through the awkward stages. My next haircut is scheduled for March 5, which is 58 days away. To give myself something else on which to focus, I’ve reinserted my nose hoop and am attending yoga camp.

3. All About Yoga Camp

My headache doctor will not shoot botox into my shoulders, and although she’s cool with occasional massages she thinks I’m goofy for choosing passivity for headache relief. (Yep. I’m still getting headaches. They aren’t horrible or frequent, but they’re still there.) Anyway, she remembered that we had talked about yoga several times in the past and she mentioned how she wishes I would take her advice. Then (THEN) she said, “Instead of a six month follow-up, I want you to come back in THREE months, and all we’re going to talk about is how much you are enjoying YOGA, damnit!” (I added the damnit, but I do believe it was implied.)

Anyway, because just enough people have mentioned Yoga With Adriene, I went over to her site and noticed that she was starting up a 30 day yoga camp on January 1. I’m in. Not only am I in, but I’m loving it, mainly because I really dig Adriene’s style which is very much “do what feels right” and absolutely no “your heels MUST touch the floor.” I now know enough about yoga (and myself) to know that I really hate downward dog, I really love child’s pose, and I really kick ass at lion’s breath.

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Nailing It!

I once spent New Year’s Eve watching Rattle and Hum with my sister during a snowstorm.
I once spent it eating turkey with my hands on the roof of a rented house. (My whole body was on the roof. Sometimes sentences are tricky!)
I once spent it getting dumped. That sucked.

This year I spent it hanging out with a cheap pair of fake fingernails.

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Purchased at Target because I knew I had nothing going on for the next twelve hours as Harper was going to a friend’s house and Meredith was sick, it didn’t take long to figure out that these nails were going to transform me into the pretend host of a pretend television show titled Nailing It!

(Confession: Sometimes when I’m cooking and no one is around, I narrate my actions as if I’m Bobby Flay or Ree Drummond. By doing this, I’ve come to realize that these guys don’t just cook. They spin yarns. And so do I, but more literally than figuratively. Being a TV host is tricky, and that’s why I prefer a keyboard to eyeliner.)

Here are my big fake nails (BFNs) Nailing It! on the tablecloth that my sister made.

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Here are my BFNs Nailing It! at pretending to receive a box that was given to us by Jeff’s mom. (It held tickets to Newsies!)

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BFNs can pet a dog! Nailing It!

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BFNs can hang out on my fleece snowflake pajama pants! Nailing It!

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BFNs don’t care that yet another person from my high school unfriended me on Facebook, because BFNs are Nailing It! while watching Going Deep with David Rees!

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(BFNs know that when someone unfriends you, it just means that you are making your views known and it’s making someone uncomfortable and they don’t value individual differences the same way you do. In other words, you’re supporting Bernie Sanders and you’re Nailing It! Mostly! Also, you’re drinking Nighty Night tea in a Vegas mug! Nailing It!)

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The BFNs were trimmed and destroyed on the morning of January 1, 2016. However, I am still Nailing It! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>