Ruthie: I want to wear my WHITE shoes to church this morning!
Jen: Hmmm… I think it might be kind of late in the season for white shoes.
Bryan: You let her out of the house wearing a plaid skirt with striped tights, but you’re worried about seasonal shoes?
Jen: A girl can explore her fashion boundaries, but certain lines should never be crossed.
I don’t really understand the point of Facebook. I mean, if I have a blog, and if I have Twitter, do I really need another personal website to keep up with? Perhaps if I could use it to catalog all my movie and book reviews, and link to it from my blog for your enjoyment, I would find it useful. But one is not able to access my Facebook page unless one is already a Facebook member and adds me as a friend.
I’ve actually found more old friends through my blog than I have through Facebook. So perhaps Facebook is a great tool for those without other social network tools at their disposal?
The other thing I find creepy is that everything you do on Facebook gets recorded in your profile, such as, “JenZug updated her profile picture,” or “JenZug wrote on so-and-so’s wall: “insert message I wrote here, for all of facebook to read,” or “JenZug joined the group, Masturbator’s annonymous.”
You really have to be careful of what you do in there.
I just read this post on Jeffrey Overstreet’s blog about “Christian Fiction” and the faith of J.K. Rowling and Sara Zarr. It’s a great little rant about Christians who oppose Harry Potter because magic is of the devil.
But also in the post is an excerpt of an interview with Sara Zarr, author of Story of a Girl. As a Believer, she writes honestly and frankly about real life issues, and the interviewer asks if she’s worried she will be labeled as a ‘teen smut’ novelist.
Her answer is quite lengthy, and right on about everything. My favorite part is when she says, “Reactionary people without critical thinking skills aren’t really my target audience.”
I LOVE that.
Regarding the label of “Christian fiction,” Jeffrey writes,
Christians are writing truthful stories all the time, but many of them avoid using the buzzwords and cliches and allegories and moralizing that often characterizes books published under that banner. I have yet to see a definition or defense of the category that makes much sense.
I have really become disappointed over the years with a Christian sub-culture that is too lazy to think and too sheltered to understand what is happening in the world around it. I wonder how many Harry Potter-bashers have even read the books? Nothing frustrates me more than somebody complaining about something that he or she knows nothing about.
That’s my Thursday night rant for ya. I’d love to hear your thoughts (though I think if you read my blog with any regularity, I may be preaching to the choir).
[Edited to remove a paragraph that, upon a second reading, was not very well communicated. And since I am too tired to think of a better way to say it that is less offensive, I chose to delete it and go to bed. Goodnight].
I am gathering those I love close to my heart this week. The fall brings memories of loss, and the appreciation of life – and the Seattle clouds and rain have swept in for the next nine months, deepening those feelings of solitude.
A close relative of my mother’s recently passed on, my cousin’s teenage daughter died in a car wreck a couple years ago this November, and Gordy’s cancer took a nose dive around this time, leading up to his death in January of 2005. I also just finished reading The Kite Runner, which is a sad, tragic book that left me aching at the idea of having unfinished business with someone who is now dead.
But even in this grief, I feel I am maturing. It is surreal to hold both life and loss together – equally appreciating both, becoming overwhelmed by neither. Bryan has a set of Chinese meditation balls – they are metal, and about the size of golf balls. When you hold them together in one hand, using your fingers and thumb to rotate them around, they not only massage the muscles in your hand, but make a soothing sound as well.
This is how I’m feeling these days about life and loss – embracing both in balance actually soothes me. I miss Gordy, but remembering the loss of a loved one only makes me hold those I have with me closer and not take them for granted.
When I think of Gordy now, I actually feel joy, because I am able to appreciate what we had apart from my missing it. I look at the fall leaves turning red, and I remember our times at the cabin in Northern Minnesota – building huge bonfires with the dead underbrush on our property and chopping firewood to store for the next year.
Recently, on a day trip to the Lake Wilderness Arboretum, Ruthie and Thomas wanted to go off-trail and stomp through the brush. I smiled at this because it is the exact thing I always asked of Gordy as we hiked through the woods on our property – “I don’t want to be on the trail, can we go through the deep, deep woods?”
So that’s what I did with Ruthie when she had to pee, we tromped through the deep deep woods so she could squat, and I told her that Grandpa Gordy would be so proud.
And that is how grief marches on, at least for me.
This has been a hard, busy, tiring week – one of those weeks when you eat dinner on the fly because you have to be somewhere by 7, one of those weeks when you hardly look at your computer because you are never home. If I haven’t responded to your email, I’m sorry. And if you’re a long lost friend who’s comment I haven’t replied to yet, I’m sorry (Hi Gigi! Hi Ashley!). I’ll get to it eventually! And Cherie, I got your message, and that totally sounds like it will be fun for the kids!
Nothing like a blog to provide a forum for mass communication to all my friends. I feel lame.
And now I will report on shoe shopping, because I know that’s what you’re all dying to hear about. With all this working out I’ve been doing, my adrenaline gets going and I’ve actually been running. But the running shoes I have are from before Thomas was born, which is a big no-no. My knees were starting to feel it, so I walked over to my neighborhood Big 5 Sports to buy a new pair and found mounds of boxes and no sales person. I tried on a pair I though fit well, and took them home.
Today during my run I started to feel shin splints.
After today’s workout I called my friend Jenny, because she knows where to buy running shoes. And boy, does she! The fine folks at Roadrunner Sports set me up on a treadmill where I jogged barefoot as they monitored my gait with video equipment. I also stepped across a pressure sensor that mapped out an infrared reading of where my foot feels the least and most pressure as I take a step. I wish I’d had may camera with me so I could show you these cool things, but alas, it is broken.
Turns out I have a fairly high arch and a pretty severe overpronation problem (my ankles roll inward over my arches), which explains the shin splints from the wimpy shoes. So I am now set up with a brand new pair of Nike shoes that were very reasonably priced, all while my kids played with the toys on hand at the store.
Wow! What more could a mom ask for.
That’s about all I have the energy to report. I’m feeling very depleted creatively, and even passed on posting at the Vox Pop Network this week. I put something up by my friend, Amy, instead. It’s very good – you should go read it.
Every morning, or at some point in the night, I wake up with a third person in bed between me and Bryan. It’s usually Ruthie, who often comes in after Bryan has already vacated his side of the bed for the morning. She sneaks in quietly, and I don’t even know she’s there until I try to escape undetected for a quiet morning cup of coffee.
Thomas is another story. From Day 3 of being alive that kid has thrashed and snorted and gagged in his sleep. When Ruthie was born, she slept quietly in a bassinet by my bed for at least three months. But Thomas? I kicked him out the first week, relegating him to his cavernous crib, because even at 8 lbs that kid could wake a heard of elephants with that snore. Whenever Thomas lumbers into bed with us, he gets an immediate boot back to his own bed, as he ALWAYS ends up whacking me in the head or kicking Bryan in the face.
Sunday morning, after a hard night of partying the day before, I went upstairs to wake the kids for church and found both their beds vacated. This is how I found them, in our bed.
I’m sure they will adore this photo when they are teenagers, don’t you think?
Wow. Who knew? I am completely addicted to working out. I was talking to a friend last night about all the exercising I’ve been doing, and how my whole new daily routine has been fantastic, and how I’m actually accomplishing MORE even though I added an hour and a half to my day by going to the gym.
“You know what?” she said. “You don’t sound depressed anymore.”
And then Today happened. I hadn’t planned to go to the gym on Fridays, but I may have to change that. Today I was back to rushing around trying to get me and the kids ready so we could get Ruthie to preschool. I was packing her snacks and getting Thomas dressed at the time we should have been walking out the door.
I felt rage-ful to my core.
We rushed, I barked orders, I was impatient that they wouldn’t move fast enough, and we were 10 minutes late to class. Once I get worked up like this, there are only a few things that will bring me down again: liquor, deep breathing, and kicking the treadmill’s ass.
The contrast of today was a big eye opener to the success of exercise in my life. Here I sit in the dark, unmotivated, lurking on my computer and wasting time, while all week I’ve been a machine of accomplishment all day until I collapse into bed (at 9:30!).
My latest post is up at the Vox Pop Network. Titled Four Star Hospitality, it is about my recent dining experience at Salty’s on Alki, and how it inspired me to be friendlier. Here is an excerpt:
And when I say they smiled and greeted us, I’m not just referring to a pass-by smile on their way to the kitchen. The food prep cooks called out to us from over the counter; waiters stopped collecting their plates to smile and say hello; a bus boy stopped his work, turned from his table, and greeted us as we walked by; a second hostess on her way back to the podium stepped aside, smiled, and said hello.
I wrote this one pretty quickly and in very few drafts. In fact, I think my initial free-write was pretty dern close to what I published, save the ending. I generally have a difficult time ending an essay like this one without putting it in a cute little box with a neat bow on top. It irks me when things feel that ‘wrapped up.’
I also had a slight challenge with tone. At one point I realized I was getting preachy, in a You Should Really Be Doing This Better kind of way. That irks me too, so I had to bring it back around to me and my own experience. And then I have to walk that fine line between telling a story from my perspective versus making it all about me.
I hope I succeeded in the first thing.
The mourning period over the demise of my old gym is officially over. I have seen the light. Despite the fact that I am now a member of a large, corporate, co-ed facility that could swallow me whole, I’m beginning to see the benefits.
For instance, I never showered at my old gym because I had to pay for childcare by the hour. I would either have to pay for more than one hour, or have a really short workout to leave time for getting ready. So I just came home and showered while the kids ran around screaming at each other.
L.A. Fitness offers Kids Club memberships for $10 per month per kid, unlimited use. Which means that no matter how long I work out, or how many times I go in, it’s only $20/month for me. This means that after just three visits in a month, childcare is basically free (based on their $3 hourly rate).
Can anyone say, HOT TUB? Oh yeah, I think date night just took a whole new turn.
But aside from that, I forget how focused I can be when I workout in the right environment (read: in peace). I walked and ellipticalled about 3.5 miles, worked up a sweat, and felt all the right things burning – my body sighed with relief. I showered in peace, without Thomas taking a marker to every surface of the house or Ruthie climbing on top of the refrigerator for the candy jar.
It was a beautiful start to my day, and I am so embarrassed that I was being such a baby about missing my old gym. It was little, and quaint, and friendly, but now is the time to move on. So I apologize in advance for all the future OH MY GOSH THIS IS SO AMAZING posts you will have to endure as I hop into this new routine.
Day One of new Staying On Track Schedule is complete, and I’m tuckered out. I was productive, I was not swayed by distractions, and it was kind of nice to move through the day with purpose: make grocery list, work out, fill crock pot with dinner, go to grocery store, scream immaturely at my daughter, eat dinner, clean the kitchen, and fall onto the couch at 9.
And yes, you read that middle part right: I had a small breakdown in the middle of my day in which I screamed at Ruthie for her to stop screaming so she doesn’t wake up her brother. I think that was mature, don’t you?
I recovered well from that breakdown, thanks to a husband and a friend who both talked me down. Lack of calories played into that fit, as I ate a light breakfast right before working out, and hadn’t eaten lunch yet. Low blood sugar = very bad mother. I also realized the last time I threw a fit this bad at Ruthie was about this time laaaast month.
Hmm… methinks I should start tracking my cycles a little better. When I was in college my best friend once told me that in certain cultures women who were pms-ing would live out in a separate hut behind the family hut. I think she may have been hinting to me about something.
I cross-posted one of my recent essays over at A Wild Ride, you can check it out here. I posted it just as it was on This Pile, but I changed the title. Sometimes when I can’t think of a creative title, I just slap something down because I’m anxious to get a post up. It wasn’t until later that I thought of a better title than “Cue eerie music in the background…”
October’s theme at A Wild Ride is sleep, so if you have children with challenging sleep issues, you should check back there from time to time.
Two events collided this weekend, creating the perfect storm for knocking me on my arse. First, I purchased The Message Bible with a birthday gift certificate (thanks Carol!), and second, my friends started a revolution of exercise.
It’s difficult for one to remain lazy in this environment, when friends are running 5k’s and working out four days a week. I’m surrounded by them, these people who are getting their act together. Damn these friends for infiltrating my little bubble of avoidance! I am running out of excuses. I am coming to the end of myself.
This afternoon, as I read through my first verses in a new Bible, this is what struck me:
Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
don’t try to figure out everything on your own.
Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
he’s the one who will keep you on track.
Don’t assume that you know it all.
Run to God! Run from evil!
Proverbs 3:5ish
As I read these familiar words in a new voice, I was suddenly struck by What It All Means – all this ‘recovery’ that I’ve been going on and on about, all this healing I’ve been seeking. Put quite simply, and in terms of my own struggle: worship Jesus and run away from cereal. I have been making poor choices based on what I feel like doing at the time, and it is not going well for me. I’ve been moving in the right direction – in a cycle of planning ahead and getting organized – but it is not enough. I’m leaving out one important ingredient.
Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go.
I have been ignoring God’s voice to do the right thing. Time has been squandered, money has been wasted, minutes have been shaved off my life – all because I want the comfort and control of being in charge. I have been listening to my own voice, making my own decisions, living as if I know it all.
I hear God telling me to eat that carrot, yet I grab that box of cereal. I hear God telling me to go to bed early, yet I continue on with my reading or writing until the wee hours of the morning. I hear God telling me to get up and start my day, yet I hit the snooze button again. I hear, but I do not listen.
He’s the one who will keep you on track.
I cannot do all things by willpower alone. I must listen to and trust in Jesus. Schedules, diets, menus, and the like are all good, but if I am looking to all of these to solve my problems, then I am trusting in the wrong things. Jesus is what will keep me on track, and so I must look to him. And as I do, check out what his promises are (I swear I am not making this up):
Your body will glow with health,
your very bones will vibrate with life!
Proverbs 3:8
Exercising and eating right may be good for my body, but listening to God is good for my health. I really need to get past the laziness and the excuses and just admit that I am worshiping my time, my comfort, and my will more than I am worshiping God.
Tomorrow I will start my workout by 9am (which will actually be Today by the time you read this). I will have already eaten breakfast, donned my workout garb, and fed the kids. I was planning to go to the gym, but Thomas is hacking up a lung, so the Monotonous Machine of Monotony will have to do. I will shower immediately and not lolligag about, distracting myself with emails and feeds.
And I shall follow this routine for three days henceforth, hopefully returning to the gym by Thursday if Thomas is recovered.
I hope I don’t regret writing this post. I’m actually feeling quite vulnerable about it, like I’ve just been to confessional. Once you make a declaration and get it out there, any success or failure is quite obvious. I’m afraid I’m making another empty declaration, one that will leave you nodding with tight lips when you ask how the work-out routine is going and I’m filled with excuses about bickering children and over sleeping and not having enough time to do it all.
I hope I follow through, but I’m afraid I won’t.
And just so I don’t end on that note, I will leave you with this…
Start with God – the first step in learning is bowing down to God… (Proverbs 1:7).
Lately I’ve been in a domestic mood – making weekly dinner menus, catching up on laundry, decorating with fresh things, lighting candles, baking bread, and the like. I’m just trying to stay afloat when the dreariness outside makes it always feel like just before dawn.
The music that has carried me through this week is a collected mix of female singer/songwriters. I’ve compiled into a playlist the likes of Emmylou Harris, Patty Griffin, Oleta Adams, Regina Spektor, Brandi Carlilse, Erin McKeowin, Lucinda Williams, Lori McKenna, Annie Lennox, India Arie, and Over the Rhine among others. It is a mellow, yet cheerful mix that makes me feel cozy and warm and motivated.
What are you listening to?
Last night about nine or ten gals came over for a Recipe Swap and Menu Planning Party that I hosted. The group was mixed, consisting of friends from all different compartments of my life, including local bloggers.
I didn’t really plan to have a format, so everyone just brought their cookbooks and notebooks and index cards and we swapped swapped swapped. We mingled, and chatted, and nibbled on veggies and called out things like, “Anybody need a good enchilada recipe?” or “Does anyone know how to make pesto?” or my personal favorite, “Tell everyone about that great chicken dish YOU make, Jen!” (Nothing like a little flattery to get you multiple dinner invites).
We had great fun, and I hope to do something like it after Thanksgiving – maybe something crafty-like, or maybe we can all get together and address our Christmas cards together. Or whatever. I just think it’s fun to get together!
Leah of My Pink Toes had to cancel at the last minute, but she wrote up a blog post about it and left us with a few recipes.
Annagrace at Love Drunk lives a little too far to attend, but coincidentally, she had this recipe on her blog this week.
And Dacia also posted many of her favorite recipes at her lovely craft blog, here.
If you have a favorite recipe to share, leave it in the comments or link to your own blog.
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I will also take this time to point out a few things about this picture (click to enlarge if you care to indulge me).
First of all, you will notice the pieces of orange streamer paper taped into each corner near the ceiling. These are left over from Ruthie’s birthday party TWO YEARS AGO when I yanked them down. The pieces stuck to the tape didn’t come down, and here they still sit.
Secondly, you will notice the faux iron plate rack hanging off center above the piano. This used to hold a giant white platter, as I have storage issues in my kitchen. I have since decided to go completely IMpractical and hang a piece of art there. However, I cannot get the plate rack down. The screws are stripped or something, but the damn thing will not come off the wall.
You may have also noticed my latest organization project, which was to remove all the random photo frames off the piano and put them on the wall in hopes of eliminating clutter on the piano. They just always looked so terrible on the piano, and besides, that area needed some height. Hopefully I didn’t just make my wall look cluttered – what do you think?
And what you can’t see in the picture is that I rolled my kitchen island over to the wall under the window, opening up the kitchen wide and spacious. Wow! What a difference that made, and nobody was bumping into each other trying to pour a drink! I think I may just keep it over there and roll it back out into the middle when I need to cook.
I must confess I’ve developed a blog crush on Hugh MacLeod. I can’t explain these crushes I have. I once had a crush on Scott Berkun, too, and read through pages of essays in his archives. They are just. so. good. Hugh’s cartoons are funny and often irreverent, yet with just a few words he communicates volumes. There are many layers beneath those few words, and many times I’m sure they can be interpreted differently by the reader than how the artist intended.
But to me, that is the mark of a great artist. I hope that when people read my essays, they are not only drawn in by my story, but can also see a bit of themselves, or identify with an emotion or situation.
Last week as I was checking my feeds, I noticed Hugh had posted a video of himself “yakkin on about social objects,” and my eyes widened. Anxiously I pressed play, and then all the air was let out. Perhaps it’s because I also have a crush on Eddie Izzard and LOVE his voice, but I just expected that because he lives in London he would have a British accent.
“Oh.” I said
“What?” said Bryan.
“I just played this video of Hugh, and he doesn’t have an accent.”
Bryan laughs and says, “No, he’s from New York, I think.”
So that was a minor disappointment. But as long as he keeps posting cartoons that make me whistle and say, “wow, that’s good,” he and I will be okay.