Author: jenzug

Different Worlds

Bryan returned from San Jose tonight, and was home by 8:15. We sat on the deck talking on the first coolish evening of the week.

Bryan: Want me to build a fire?

Jen: Uh… ok… [pausing to to process why this sounded horrific to me, but not wanting to dash his obvious hopes] So… what was the weather like in San Jose this week?

Bryan: It was kind of cold, actually.

Jen: Ah.

So despite the fact that I have basically been on fire all week, I am now sitting next to a beautiful crackling fire – having inner Post Dramatic Traumatic Stress attacks.

Because I love him dearly.

The Sounds of Silence

Recently I missed four weeks of my dedicated writing time due to travel and the busyness of transitioning into summer, and I’ve had a difficult time getting back into it. There is something to be said for practicing the discipline of something, as being out of practice has caused my writing muscles to grow stiff and weak.

Even my private writing – those things I have no intention of posting – has suffered.

I think I’m not so interested in laying all my shit out there for everyone to read anymore, and I wonder if I’m going through a season in which I hold my cards closer to my chest. I have always made myself vulnerable and open on this blog, sharing all the ugliness as I muddle through it. But now, I feel like putting all that into words gives it too much power, and I don’t want it lording over me anymore.

I want to be hopeful and positive, but I wonder how to do this while remaining honest about the everyday struggle.

Stuff has happened in the last few weeks. I have fallen down, and gotten up. My marriage has been broken, and then mended again. I have been lost in the darkness, then found light again. I have hurt friends, and reconciled.

I just don’t know how to write about it anymore. Other things seem to be more important right now, like moving forward. The last two years I spent a lot of time looking backward, looking inward, and turning everything I knew about myself upside down. I’m a little burned out on psychoanalyzing, and have found much comfort in hearing the Truth and putting it into Action.

I will still show up at the wine bar every week to write, and I will still open up my laptop. Because, as Bryan points out to me on a regular basis, the difference between writers and non-writers is that writers write as a discipline, even when they don’t feel like it.

Gloating

I’m sitting in my favorite wine bar for my weekly afternoon of writing, sipping on a chilled Rose and feeling extremely grateful that it is air conditioned on this, the hottest day of the summer. The timing couldn’t have been better, in my opinion.

And lest you think I’m a bitch for leaving my children with the babysitter in a sweltering house while I bask in the luxury of coolness, we have a cool basement with walls of cinder block and a box full of movies – so they are doing just fine.

As for you? I am so. so. sorry. 🙂

Dog Friendly Parks

The Alert ProtectorWe discovered that Maple Valley is a dog-friendly town, permitting dogs to walk with their owners on the trails at the arboretum as well as relax at the beach when said hike is finished. The city I live in is not dog friendly, so this is a fantastic discovery for the Zugs.

Saturday night we brought a picnic dinner to Lake Wilderness and spent time swimming and wresting in the grass. It was a pleasure to have Scout with us, and so cute to see how attentive she is when Bryan and the kids are in the water. See her ears perked up? She’s on high alert!

The only sad discovery to this perfect evening was rice grain sized leaches all. over. my. legs. I totally freaked out on the inside, so as to not alarm the kids. But Ruthie? She simply said, “Something is sticking to my foot.” And she picked it off and went back into the water. We may go back, but I’m not sure I’ll be in the water with the kids!

Tagged: Eight Things About Me

I was tagged. It was Dave who did it, and because he tagged me all the way from Australia, I’ll humor him.

It might be difficult to find eight things you don’t know about me, since many of the people who read this blog include my husband, my mother, and friends I’ve known since I had bad hair and wore pleated plaid skirts. So this may actually be, Eight Things Most of You Didn’t Know About Me But the Rest of You Can Move On To Your Next Feed.

1. My brother and my sister were 11 and 13 when I was born, and since they were both off to college by the time I was 7, I was basically raised as an only child.

2. As a teenager I was picked up for shoplifting in a department store, but not before leading the undercover security guards on a 21 Jumpstreet-like chase through the mall. And like most bad movies in which the chased person inevitably runs up the stairs or ladder to a roof top, inducing screams from me such as, “Why the hell are you trapping yourself on the roof???” – I ran into a bathroom where I obviously had no way out, and was caught. A desperate cry for help? You be the judge.

3. I once lived in a house with 10 other girls. And no, it was not an orphanage or juvenile detention home – we were friends!

4. I once spent the night in a hammock on a boat going down the Amazon River, squeezed in uncomfortably with other traveling Brazilians, and watched a cute little Brazilian baby while his mother went to get some food.

5. In college I got to be a rock star, singing in a band for a major talent show. I’m a horrible singer, yet somehow we won first prize with our version of ‘Closer to Fine.’ I think it was Alecia’s red cowboy boots that won favor with the judges.

6. I never got drunk until I became a mother. I wouldn’t recommend it.

7. For more than ten years I thought having one really close friend was enough. Now I recognize the value in a community of friends, as no one person can be everything you need her to be.

8. Growing up, my mother’s family was close personal friends with Garrison Keillor’s family. The year before Gordy got cancer, he and my mom and my sister went to Gary’s house after a Prairie Home Companion show, and they all made dinner together in his big kitchen. Gary also told a special story on the air about my grandma’s gift of hospitality as a memorial when she died. He called her Aunt Leila.

Now it’s your turn! Tell me eight things about yourself in my comments, or link to a list on your own blog. I specifically tag Jenny, Maryam, Mommy Needs a Cocktail, Heartichoke, and Leah.

Fourth of July

On the 4th we drove North to Bellingham where my dad has a condo on Lake Whatcom. The weather was beautiful, the kids were great, and the food was yummy. And there was plenty of laziness going around for everyone to enjoy.

That night I drove home, and around 10pm we were on the stretch of I-5 between Marysville and Everett, in a valley with tree-topped hills off in the distance to the East and the South. Bryan was reading and the kids were asleep and I was listening to Brandi Carlile as loud as possible, feeling refreshed in my introverted bubble.

Then, as I looked out over the valley I saw puffs of fireworks all along the treetops, stretching for miles along the thin line between tree and sky.

It was as if God had sewn a sparkley fringe around the horizon.

Back Again.

I managed to climb my way out of a hole of depression on Tuesday afternoon – and once I did it was as if I’d come back through the magic wardrobe to find everything as I had left it, wondering if what I had experienced was real or imagined. Bryan was a little on edge, wary of my roller coaster emotional breakdowns. But he took it in stride as much as possible, accepting my apologies and not holding a grudge for lost time at work and added stress.

This time, the depression manifested itself in a deep loathing for myself that resulted in making everyone else around me feel as miserable as I did. I kept saying over and over to myself and anyone who asked me that I hated who I was, heaping all the troubles of my children, husband, and the world on my own shoulders as if I had failed everyone catastrophically. I had also suffered some setbacks during this time, sinning against Bryan and my kids with my anger.

A friend asked me if I knew whether my self loathing had precipitated my sin, or was the result of it. It was a good question, and one that I’m not sure I’ve figured out. All I know is that when I finally cracked my Bible and listened to the story being told to me through music, what really convicted me was the weight of an unrepentant heart. I think the situation in which I had sinned against my family came in the midst of a stressful weekend – one in which I was already sliding into self loathing. My actions simply punctuated what a horrible person I was, so rather than accepting the grace of God’s forgiveness, I continued beating myself up until I was drowning in my own hate.

I am very thankful for a patient husband, a longsuffering Savior in Jesus, and a community of friends who speak words of encouragement to me and get me out of the house when I can’t get myself out.

Things in my head today

I’ve been in a hole of depression the last couple weeks and haven’t been able feel much but utter contempt for myself. Today I began to see just the tiniest sliver of light in my very dark world – light that came through song, and scripture, and a trip to the beach with friends. In no particular order, these are the words that are telling me a story today.

—

I bought a crap detector
Emptied all my savings
It’s got a hair-trigger feel for the slightest provocation
Not there to spill blood or judge out of line
It’s just a modern convenience to save you some time

Why is joy something I must steal?
Starving skeletons looking for a meal
Out in the graveyard, church bells peal
Earth has no sorrow heaven can’t heal
– Bill Mallonee

—

Have you gotten what you came for
Did you ever feel ashamed for
Criminal is the name for…
what you’ve done to me

Did you shoot down what you aimed for
Did you ever take the blame for
Criminal is the name for…
what you’ve done to me
– The Call

—

A man who refuses to admit his mistakes can never be successful. But if he confesses and forsakes them, he gets another chance.”
– Proverbs 28:13 (The Living Bible)

—

There was a time when I wouldn’t admit what a sinner I was. But my dishonesty made me miserable and filled my days with frustration. All day and all night your hand was heavy on me. My strength evaporated like water on a sunny day until I finally admitted all my sins to you and stopped trying to hide them. I said to myself, “I will confess them to the Lord,” And you forgave me! All my guilt is gone.
– Psalm 32 3-5 (The Living Bible)

—

For God was in Christ, restoring the world to himself, no longer counting men’s sins against them but blotting them out. This is the wonderful message he has given us to tell others.
– 2 Corinthians 5:19 (The Living Bible)

—

You were dead in sins, and your sinful desires were not yet cut away. Then he gave you a share in the very life of Christ, for he forgave all your sins, and blotted out the charges proved against you, the list of his commandments which you had not obeyed. He took this list of sins and destroyed it by nailing it to Christ’s cross. In this way God took away Satan’s power to accuse you of sin, and God openly displayed to the whole world Christ’s triumph at the cross where your sins were all taken away.
– Colossians 2:13-15 (The Living Bible)

—

So there is now no condemnation awaiting those who belong to Christ Jesus.
– Romans 8:1 (The Living Bible)

—

Days Like This
Van Morrison

When it’s not always raining
there’ll be days like this
When there’s noone complaining
there’ll be days like this
Everything falls into phase
like the flick of a switch
Well my momma told me
there’ll be days like this

When you don’t need to worry
there’ll be days like this
When noone’s in a hurry
there’ll be days like this
When you don’t get betrayed
by that old Judas kiss
Oh my momma told me
there’ll be days like this

When you don’t need an answer
there’ll be days like this
When you don’t meet a chancer
there’ll be days like this
When all the parts of the puzzle
start to look like they fit
Then I must remember
there’ll be days like this

When everyone is upfront
and they’re not playing tricks
When you don’t have no freeloaders
out to get their kicks in
When it’s nobody’s business
the way that you wanna live
I just have to remember
there’ll be days like this

When no one steps on my dreams
there’ll be days like this
When people understand what I mean
there’ll be days like this
When you bring out the changes
of how everything is
Well my momma told me
there’ll be days like this

Oh my momma told me
there’ll be days like this
Well my momma told me
there’ll be days like this
Oh my momma told me
there’ll be days like this
Oh my momma told me
there’ll be days like this

—

How much of this was meant to be
How much the work of the devil
How far can one man’s eyes really see
In these days of toil and trouble
– Bill Mallonee

—

When I’m broken, see what happens
Arms wide open, see what happens
When I’m broken, see what happens
See what happens to me.
– Bill Mallonee (of Vigilantes of Love)

Bleh.

I tried to write a post today, but all that was coming out was yucky stuff that will really drag a person down. And on such a nice sunny day, I just couldn’t do that to The Internet. Plus, Ruthie has turned into a flakey napper, and now I am dealing with my bitter disappointment that I’ve had less than an hour to myself, which hardly seems enough to recharge me during such a shitty week.

The Crazy has officially entered the house, and The New Jen is nowhere to be found. I must find my sword to fight the good fight.

Pray that I clearly see my enemy, and leave all innocent bystanders in peace.

For the eavesdroppers among us…

Since switching to my new, sexy, and perfectly shaded color of blue website, it took some troubleshooting to get my Last.fm player up and running again. But the roughly four hours over several days that I put into it made it worthwhile, in my opinion. The new player I downloaded is fun because it has a flashing ‘listening now’ sign on it if I currently have something playing in iTunes, plus their designs were much more simple and fit better in my sidebar.

If you’re looking for a music sharing site, you should check out Last.fm. It’s free (unlike Rhapsody), and uses an rss feature to load your recently played tracks into a chart directly on your website.

Pretty cool if you like that sort of thing. Which I do.

Warning: this post was precipitated by trying on pants at the mall today.

This is the second week in a row that I intended to get back on the Monotonous Machine of Monotony and keep track of what I am eating. I had taken a brief hiatus for travel and general laziness, but declared a couple weekends ago that I needed to kick this ass back into gear again and get past this plateau.

Apparently what I meant was, I am going to eat cereal for every meal and sit in my chair reading a book.

For the crazy work-out girl I used to be, I’m not sure what to do with this lack of motivation. Honestly – and not to make ridiculous excuses – but I really miss my old gym, the one that shut down. I transfered over to the new facility, but I have yet to step foot in it, and I really can’t even muster up a little bit of desire to do so.

Lame. I know. Yell at me all you want. I will accept your scorn.

What’s worse, is that we actually have a Monotonous Machine of Monotony in our basement that Bryan uses every. single. day (that bastard), so it’s not even like I have any legitimate excuses what so ever. I have just been undisciplined.

And I am back to feeling sorry for myself for being this way, wishing I looked like this again, or even this, for crying out loud. And to see the date stamp on those posts go back a whole year…. It is discouraging to know that I have been complaining about my body for so long without matching my words with action.

In Recovery, we learned in step 5 to shut up and do something about it (that’s a paraphrase). So I think maybe that I might possibly see about the idea of trying to perhaps think about committing.

Well, I’m nothing if not realistic.

Because I’m too distracted to write about anything else.

The other night Ruthie counted all the way up to 26, at which point she got caught in a vicious circle of never entering the 30’s. It went something like this: 24, 25, 26, 21, 24, 25, 26, 24, 25, 22, 23, 24, 21… and so on. It was hilarious, because she never seemed to realize she was stuck like a broken record.

Also, a couple weeks ago I took the kids to see Meet the Robinsons – part of the distraction of Bryan being gone for so long. Let me just openly remind movie theater managers that most G-rated movie-goers do NOT have the attention span to sit through previews. At the beginning of each one, Ruthie would shout out if this was the movie, only she kept getting the name wrong. It evolved…

IS THIS MEET THE ROBINS?

IS THIS MEET THE ROBINSES?

IS THIS MEET THE ROBIN?

IS THIS MEET THE ROBINHOOD? (my personal favorite).

There is one scene in the movie in which a scary dinosaur is trying to get the kid. Ruthie was terrified and jumped into my lap until this scene was over.

But Thomas? That was the ONLY part of the movie he paid attention to! He jumped up and down and growled back at the screen and pointed his ‘gun’ finger in retaliation.

It was awesome.