Grateful

Like many writers, I have a fairly well defined obsession with notebooks. I can't help myself. I am always on the lookout for the "perfect notebook," whatever that is. It doesn't matter if I'm at Walgreens or a high-end stationary store - the siren call of notebooks beckons me as soon as I walk through the door.

And don't get me started on pens or office supplies. I go almost apoplectic just walking in there. Over the years, I've amassed a rather large and eclectic collection of notebooks. I use different notebooks for different tasks- one to write morning pages, one to write character ideas, one to specifically journal in. And I can't tell you what makes me attracted to a particular notebook - my tastes run the gamut from unlined, expensive art paper to lined $.39 notebooks with a plain green cover. My attraction to notebooks is like abstract art - I can't describe what I like, but I know it when I see it. About a month ago, I found this notebook in a lovely store in Clarksville, called Nest:




Believe me when I say that this photo doesn't do it justice. I saw it and I literally had a visceral reaction to it. I picked it up and literally starting crying. Why would I cry holding a notebook you ask? I have no frickin idea- I just did. And I had to have it. So I bought it and brought it home and then...it sat. Unused. Occasionally I'd pick it up and hold it and try to discern what to use it for. And I got nothing, except that it had to hold something beautiful. Then I'd put it down and leave it untouched.

Until Sunday when I finally realized what purpose this beautiful, delicate, spiritual notebook was destined for. It has become a gratitude journal. I've never kept one before, I never needed to - I was well aware of all that I had to be grateful for and I've always been the eternal optimist. And then this year tackled me, kicked my in the kidneys and left me for dead on the curb. And suddenly it's become hard for me to see how much I really have.

So this little journal has now become a big part of my life. And it feels right.

Take Your Pickle to Work Day

Pickle was off from school today while her teachers prepped for parent conferences at the end of the week. The Land Baron worked at the hospital all day and I didn't want to use one of my precious few days off so, we packed up a bag full of distractions and off we went.

First stop- Baltimore Coffee & Tea- a lovely new coffee place across from the mall. They made a lukewarm hot chocolate for the Pepper - which is a brilliant idea because 1) she could drink it right away and it didn't need to be an exercise in delayed gratification and B) they don't get their asses sued when some child scalds themselves. Seems like a win-win to me.

So with warm beverages in hand we went to the office. Pickle has been excited for days. She couldn't wait to see what it was like at a real office where grown-ups do actual work.

If I was a betting woman, I would have given her 2-2.5 hours max before boredom set in and she'd start asking "Is it almost time to go yet" every 1.3 seconds. But she was a trooper. She played on the Internet and colored and cut things out and helped me open the mail and watched a DVD. She even helped me walk the bosses dog as an extra-special treat.

As a side note, I have to say that although I truly enjoy having the dog come to work on the rare occasions when my boss brings him in, I can't help thinking that the reason I went back to work in the first place was to clean up less poop during my day. But since I am often the only one in the office and everyone else (including my boss) is out working with clients, it's a worthwhile trade for the companionship and the chance to get a little fresh air in my mornings.

Pickle really only started bouncing off the walls about ten minutes before we left. She was ready for some running around time - as, aren't we all at the end of a work day.

Her favorite part of the day was when we both got our lunches out and sat at the conference table in my bosses office eating from our lunch bags and flipping through a magazine together as all good lunch buddies should.

But I think she was a touch disappointed that there was less excitement than she imagined. I don't know what she was expecting but I don't think it was the sight of her mother sitting at a computer, typing away--which is what I do at home most of the time anyway. I think she thought adults at work led interesting lives full of movement and energy and who knows what. Now she knows that I'm basically the same person both places.

Maybe I can convince her I'm an international spy and this is just my cover...

The Inquisition

Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I enter into evidence Exhibit A:




A pan of delicious vegetarian rice krispy squares. Note the proper distance between the back of the counter where the pan is located to the front of the counter. (If you also noted how beautifully clean the counter is too that would be great, thanks.)

Now I present Exhibit B:



Someone has clearly helped themselves. But who??????

Finally, Exhibit C:



Is that a carb-induced sleep coma I spy? Or was it the little pieces of rice krispies in his chest fur that gave him away?

Although leniency is recommended, the prosecution would like to note that there has been absolutely no display of remorse from the accused. Typical....

Ooops!

So I spent my day chopping up jack-o-lanterns, boiling them and blending them into a puree for the dogs.

What? Does this strike you as odd? Doesn't everyone do this?

Well, the next time your dog is puking up whatever they've eaten from the trash, go buy some canned pumpkin and give them a spoonful with every meal. Pumpkin is a great tummy calmer for pooches. And since I have three large dogs who love to get into the trash when we have the audacity to both leave the house AND leave the trashcan sitting on the kitchen floor (where it always resides), it's always good to add a little pumpkin proactively into the food dish and just accept the inevitability that I will forget to put the trash can on the counter before I run out the door.

It's National Blog Posting Month - or as the hip kids like to call it; NaBloPoMo. I forgot. I thought it was in December and so now I've missed the first two days. Oops. I hope they don't mark me down for it.

In case you've never heard of it. NaBloPoMo is a challenge for bloggers (and wannabe bloggers) everywhere to write a blog entry every day for the month of November. You can join by going to http://nablopomo.ning.com and creating an account. Or, if you already have a blog, I suppose you can just blog away. It's really just up to you. For those of us Type-A's who are always afraid of getting it wrong, you can post your blog entries on both your own blog and the Ning blog. Really, the amount of obsessiveness is up to you- or maybe it's not - depending on your amount of obsessiveness...

Anyway, I hope you give it a try. And, keep checking in here, hopefully sooner or later I'll blog about something interesting.

The flu was totally worth it.

Just to see this!

The...best...reality...show...EVER!

Sick AND Tired

I have the flu. Blah. Not the worst bout it of it I’ve ever had, but it’s not good. I’m frustrated because I had so many plans for this weekend- not the least of which was some long overdue cleaning. Instead, I've traded a weekend of productivity for lying on the couch under a blanket and sipping Dr. Pepper. This is the downside of now having a job: I have to cram a whole bunch of things into the weekend and one small bout of throwing up and a bad case of the chills can derail the whole process.

But on the plus side, I did get to watch a Martha Stewart Halloween special, Footloose, a couple of Will and Grace reruns and I got to finish a trashy little chick-lit book I was reading. Such a shame that the only time I take for myself anymore is when I have no choice.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some more 80’s movies to watch on VH1…

Hippo Birdies Two Ewes.

My Pepper turned two this past week. Her birthday itself was a relatively quiet affair except for the infamous elevator incident which I will post shortly. There was pizza and a couple of presents and dinner with Daddy at the hospital. Sunday was the main event – a small party with just a few friends and a couple of kids, but Pepper’s first very own birthday party nonetheless.

I wasn’t convinced she understood that the party was for her until she woke up on Sunday morning and walked into the dining room where Pickle and I had starting setting the table and had hung several Elmo decorations. Bleary-eyed and stumbling half-awake, Pepper wandered into the room and with an air of awe simply said, “My party?” When Pepper told her it that yes, it was for her, the smile that broke out across her face said it all.

And what a glorious afternoon it was for the Pepper. There were three “big” girls and a boy her own age to play with and follow through the house. They played and ran wild, the adults ate and ate and ate and we all enjoyed not having to organize anything for them to do. There was one simply craft- glitter glue and sticky jewels and foam hearts and stars on little paper boxes; just enough to bridge the gap between lunch and cake.

The cake was a simple affair- chocolate – deemed by the Pickle as the only type of cake appropriate for a birthday. I could have bought a much prettier cake from, well, just about anywhere, but then I wouldn’t have had an excuse to make my favorite butter cream frosting. Elmo, Zoe, Big Bird and Cookie Monster appeared on the cake, courtesy of our “Chutes and Ladders” game and there were lots of sprinkles. Perfect for a two year old. When we started singing ‘Happy Birthday” and she knew it was for her, you would have thought we were crowning her Miss America.



The great thing about being two is the complete focus on the present and not on the presents. We waited until everyone left to open them and while the Pepper enjoyed them, it was the people and party that made her day.

The only real downer of the whole weekend was Monday morning when she woke up and toddled back into the dining room. Most everything was back in its proper place, except for a couple of the Elmo decorations, which I thought I’d leave up for a few days to help ward off the post-birthday let down. Still the disappointment was written all over her face when she looked around at everything cleaned up and said, with a complete understanding that it was all over, “my party”.

Here she is modeling her sporty new backpack: