Category: Daily

I haven’t had time to read the specifics, but I’m pretty sure I’m all set up to start making my own marijuana. (Or beans.) Quickly.

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Last week a good friend of mine told me that she had read my About the Pudding page, and was wondering if I ever thought about updating it. I looked it over this morning, and: It is time. Here we go, 2016! (I’m not redoing every item. Just the stuff that no longer applies. Also, 25 at a time sounds about right.)

1. I’ve been pierced nine times—five times in my left ear, twice in my right ear, once in my belly button (also known as Billy Pancake), and once in my left nostril. Currently, the only “active” piercings are one in each ear and the nostril, although all other holes are still holey. (I think. I haven’t hit up Billy P. in about thirteen years.)

2. I was 67 inches tall in college. Two years ago I came in at 65.25 inches. This bothers me more than it should. My posture is ridiculous.

3. I try not to eat sugar, but I absolutely cannot resist a nonfat caramel macchiato with extra caramel. Or a doughnut. (Or a bean burrito.)

4. All of my subscriptions have run out.

5. I drive a light blue Hyundai Sonata named BlueLu.

6. I had my appendix removed during the fifteenth week of my first pregnancy. They tried to remove it using only a local anesthetic, but every time they went to cut I said, “Ouch.” so they put me out.

7. I had MC removed during my forty-first week of pregnancy. She weighed in at ten pounds and one ounce. Two of the other moms in the unit brought their babies in to have them photographed with my monster circus baby. I still don’t know how I feel about that.

8. I had Harper Rose removed during my thirty-ninth week of pregnancy. She was estimated (via ultrasound) to be a ten pound baby, but came out weighing seven pounds and fifteen ounces.

9. Jeff and I were married on October 20, 2001. Although we lived in Nashville, the wedding was in St. Louis. Our photos are terrible, but our music was divine.

10. We’ve had seven pets. Jeff’s cat, Luna, passed away in May of 2008. My cat, Sidney, passed away in July of 2014. Our sweet black cat, Ramona Quimby, passed away in December of 2014. Our current canines are Scout and Henry, and as of December 18, 2015 we adopted two cat brothers—Graham Cracker and Chocolate Chip.

11. I work from home as an editor monkey, and because of that I’m the luckiest person I know.

12. If you meet me when I’m drunk, I’ll tell you that my name is Samantha. With that said, I haven’t had a drink since February of 2014. (Alcohol = Migraine!)

13. Although I normally get squirmy around the number 13, April 13, 2013 was a very lucky day for me.

14. I am hopelessly drawn to creative people with fun hair, bean burritos, and doughnuts. (I realize you can take this sentence many different ways. That’s fine. I’m also hopelessly drawn to wordplay. (But not Coldplay, except for Parachutes.))

15. My worst childhood memory involves vomiting cake doughnuts in Dayton, Ohio. My dad gave me a cherry Lifesaver afterwards to clear my head.

16. I think Carol Channing, Ashley Judd, and Naomi Judd are despicable. I will never join them for lunch, nor will I ever open the door for Elisabeth Hasselbeck or Celine Dion (unless they have doughnuts).

17. I have voted: Dukakis, Clinton, Clinton, Nader, Kerry, Obama, and Obama. (A few of you are high-fiving me in your head. A few of you will never return to my website after reading this fact.) I’m currently wearing a Bernie shirt, but I’m not being an asshole about it.

18. I feel fairly confident that no one has ever called me an asshole. I could be wrong, but I might just be one of the nicest people you barely know.

19. I have Georgia O’Keefe’s hands tattooed on my left leg and the word Create tattooed onto my left forearm.

20. My first job was at Baskin-Robbins. I was almost fired when I put too many almonds on a fudge round ice cream cake.

21. I went to the University of Missouri on a piano scholarship and I forfeited that scholarship during my freshman year. I changed my major seven times during college and I still don’t feel like I’m doing what I’m meant to be doing, although I do love doing what I do.

22. My bones break when I run, and it took four stress fractures for me to finally give it up.

23. Currently on my refrigerator: school lunch calendar, expired Old Navy coupon, 2015 calendar in the shape of a tooth, Yoga Camp calendar, 2015-2016 calendar of school vacation days, list of people for whom I want to do nice things.

24. I bought a spinning wheel in July of 2011. I need to spin more often than I do because spinning = meditation and meditation = good.

25. My grandpa communicates with me by turning out streetlights as I drive or walk past them. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I almost threw this guy away when his final bloom fell into the sink four months ago. Instead, I let him sit neglected in the corner window of the kitchen and I can’t remember the last time I watered him.

He’s back. It’s a miracle.
(And he’s drinking again. Responsibly.)
This morning he put on his Starsky and Hutch t-shirt and sang this song to us.

As a result, everyone in the house is feeling starry-eyed and hopeful and the cats just can’t stop hugging each other.

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Today is the anniversary of Jeff’s proposal, which means two things:
1. I’ve been officially off the market for 15 years, which is longer than I was ever ON the market. (I suppose I went ON the market when I was 18? Maybe 23? If we split the difference and say that I went on the market when I turned 20, then I was on the market for 3,930 days. I’ve been OFF the market for 5,478 days. Is the market still a thing?)
2. If we currently lived in Mexico (or Brazil, or Argentina, or Bolivia, etc.) and I had given birth to a miracle proposal night baby, today we would be preparing for a kick-ass quinceañera!

Jeff and I have lived in four different places and have adopted seven pets and have birthed two human girl babies and have eaten so many burritos. We wash our clothes in the same load and a few nights back he tried my coconut amino stir fried broccoli and I always look forward to hearing the garage door go up when I know he left work twenty minutes earlier.

(Unrelated: I’ve been eating hard core clean this week and last night I had a dream that I was digging in the trash for loose M&M’s.)

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I purchased this a few days back and I love it because it’s oil in a squirt bottle. (I’ve replaced my nighttime moisturizer with olive oil. I’m going through something over here.)

I got this a few months ago and I love it because I’m at my best when I smell like a lemon.

The girls were off school today and I started a fairly big project. Time away from the computer was spent baking a sweet potato, taking Meredith for a haircut, and purchasing Cocoa Puffs at the store. Cocoa Puffs. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

In the past six weeks I’ve learned that one of my favorite activities is sitting around and breathing. My grandmother used to (lovingly?) refer to me as her “little lazy shit.” What she didn’t realize was that I was spending my entire childhood preparing for a jump into yoga at age 45.

Because I’ve talked about it enough to make your eyes roll, you know that I started doing daily (mostly gentle) yoga in January and that I love it.

I do quite a bit of this.

And a little bit of this.

I do a LOT of this.

And because I felt a weird burst of confidence and strength, yesterday I did this and I held it for ten seconds or so before a vein burst out of my head.

Dude. I’m not even joking (except about the vein thing).

It definitely needs some work and I’m definitely up for the challenge which means I think I just made a left turn onto Headstand Boulevard (Sirsasana!) and someday soon I will celebrate my accomplishment with a nod to my past. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Yesterday. 12:08 in the afternoon.
Quick conversation with Jeff:

I grew up in a Baptist church and the only time I heard the word Lent was when we were talking about Catholics. I may have halfheartedly “given up” Chocodiles at school as a limp-wristed high five to my Catholic friends, but I was also very much okay with eating Chocodiles in my house where no Catholic friends could see me (not because they weren’t welcome, but because I have always been the way I am now, which is unsocial and prone to sudden naps).

Anyway, seven years ago (shortly after we joined our church), our pastor talked about different ways to observe Lent. You can give something up if that’s your jam (He didn’t use the word jam. Neither do I. UNTIL NOW.), or you can choose to take something. Specifically, time. Time to reflect and time to enjoy the moment and time for silence and preparation and renewal. I don’t know if you know this, but time is my jam. (Do you think the jam thing is working for me?)

Last night we attended an event called Lights, Camera, Action! at Harper’s school. It was a celebration of art and music and movement, and it was really crowded (you know how I get when it’s really crowded) but also a crazy amount of fun. Hundreds of kids were jumping rope and making kazoos out of popsicle sticks and taping the principal to the wall and participating in a drum circle.

(At one point during the drum circle, the music teacher started playing Once in a Lifetime by Talking Heads, and a little boy who had probably never heard the song before was totally feeling it.)

The main reason we attended the event was because Harper performed in a jump rope group and a ukulele ensemble and she also volunteered to help with the popsicle kazoo thing. (She gets her confidence from Jeff. 100%.) I’m so glad Harper is Harper because: What a great way to spend a Tuesday night.

(I flirted with a skeleton.)

(He was into it.)

On the way home from Lights, Camera, Action! I made Jeff drive by the frozen yogurt place so we could indulge in some Shrove Tuesday Madness, where madness is pistachio yogurt with pineapple and blackberries.

Me: This Lent thing! The year is going too quickly! I haven’t had time to think about how to approach it!

Jeff: How about writing at Fluid Pudding every day until Easter? You could call it NaBloPoLenta!

Thus it is, and here I go. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

When you look at my days, today is really no different than any other Tuesday except that it sort of is. I finished my 30 day Yoga Camp this morning, and I became unexpectedly emotional at the final Namaste, and let’s just back up a stinking minute here, people. Please don’t send me articles about how yoga will steal my Jesus and turn me into a Hindu Muslim Buddhist Terrorist.

Okay. Inhale. Release.

I’ve done 30 day clean eating challenges and crunch challenges and squat challenges and butt challenges (I’m not making any of this up) and every one of those long and grueling challenges made me throw my fist to the sky when the 30 days were up. When Yoga Camp was over, I didn’t feel the relief of completion. Instead, I felt like my vacation was over before I was ready to come home. SO, tomorrow I’ll be starting my second 30 day challenge. (I highly recommend Yoga With Adriene, and I’m cringing at my use of the word Highly because I’m trying to be more careful with unnecessary adverbs and adjectives. It’s a very long story. It’s a long story. It’s a story.)

After getting off of the mat this morning I threw on jeans and eyeshadow and drove 20 miles in the rain for a B12 shot. As I drove, I drank a caramel macchiato and listened to The Nightingale which is WWII historical fiction and I’m not yet loving it, but I’m finding that listening to it sometimes makes me think with a German accent which is both confusing and great fun. Ich bin müde!

After returning home from my shot, I ate a salted avocado and read Harper’s classroom’s greatest wish journal.

Ah, the greatest wish journal. It’s a whole class journal in which the students write paragraphs describing their greatest wish. This is Harper’s week to write. (Fourteen kids have already written.) The journal starts off with a boy who wants to buy all of the cars and then make a fortune by reselling them (except for the nasty ones that will find their way to a junk yard). One boy’s greatest wish is to “…have a happy family, have a good life, and live until I’m 100 and still be active just with a cane.” A few of the girls want to run bakeries or be veterinarians or famous volleyball players. One girl wants to be rich but not let it go to her head. More than one boy mentioned wanting to be a good father.

The thing that warmed my typically tepid cockles? The following paragraph, written by a boy whose first dream is to become a neurosurgeon because he would love to be able to save a life.
“Finally, I would like to win the Powerball when it’s up to a billion dollars. I have always dreamed of being a billionaire. I could help people that are struggling to survive in other countries if I had that amount of money.”

Today I’m a soft rainy puddle of hopefulness. Also, my heels now touch the floor during downward dog. I can handle whatever happens knowing that things just keep happening and happening. How I respond is up to me.

Oh, you guys.

Do you remember when we all looked like this?

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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’>