Friday, December 19, 2014

The Productivity Bus has stalled

It is a damn good thing that I spent last Sunday preparing for Christmas like I was the jolliest of Santa's elves because I have not done anything, not one thing, this week.

Unless you count eating all of the Christmas cookies that I made on Sunday. Because I totally did that. Or watching 92 episodes of Scandal because I did that, too.

My holiday steam? Lost it. Other than one gift that I must pick up (shopping this weekend should be enjoyable, no?), I am done. Not done as in finished with what I need to do so much as done, like, really over it.

I think maybe I hit my holiday quota and it just happened a little bit early this year, instead of at 2:00 pm on Christmas when I'm just sort of ready to go to bed until New Year's Day.

I'm ready to go to bed until New Year's Day now. 

The holiday will be lovely. And I will busy myself with other Christmas-y activities because it's expected of me and because my mother will need my help. I will wear my red wool Christmas coat. I will turn on my Christmas lights and wrap a few remaining presents and stop for a peppermint mocha at Starbucks.

I will go through the motions because that's what you do but I am kind of just done.

With the exception of making Hanukkah donuts with Lucy's boys tonight because: fried dough.

Fried dough forever. 

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

About Serial

Um, you guys? I need to tell you something important.

My Serial addiction has not lessened.

Here is an incomplete list of the people in my life who I have more or less forced to listen to Serial: my sister (who has turned two of her best friends into listeners), my mother, Lucy, our good friend Alon in Israel and my cousin Mara. Also my grandparents listened to the first seven or eight episodes on our trip to Chicago but I still need to get them caught up.

So, anyway. I remain addicted to a podcast*

A podcast that I know many of you are also addicted to. (Strength in numbers, my friends.)

A podcast that ends ON THURSDAY.

A podcast about a crime that I am still so undecided about. My opinion on Adnan's guilt/innocence changes every episode. Shit, it changes multiple times during every episode. AND WE WILL NEVER KNOW THE TRUTH.

Fellow listeners, please share your thoughts and your feelings.

Feed my addiction.

*Speaking of podcasts, Dear Sugar (easily one of my favorite things in all the world) has transformed into a podcast and I haven't listened yet but just knowing that it exists makes my heart so full. 

Monday, December 15, 2014

Skating lesson

The highlight of my weekend was taking my friend Heather's daughter skating. She's a tiny little elf of a not-quite three year-old and she's been hellbent on learning how to skate since seeing the ice skating episode of Peppa Pig.

Heather deferred to me because she's pregnant and I'm a former skating coach. We've been planning the outing for a few weeks.

My protégé was quite the little trooper. I expected her to last 20 minutes. We skated for an hour and a half. I got her marching around a bit on her own -- she insisted that I yell "yaaaaaaaaay!" when she did -- but she loved when I pushed her around fast or carried her as I skated, too.

I am not in coaching shape, you guys. While in college, I was on the ice for 20 hours a week. 90 minutes of picking up and pushing around Heather's daughter nearly killed me. Back knots on knots on knots.

But totally worth it.

While preparing to get ready for Sunday's skating lesson, I discovered that my skates are missing. My ridiculously expensive, custom figure skates. I suspect that they didn't make it off of the moving truck in July and I am devastated.

They weren't my only figure skates (not to mention the two pair of hockey skates that I also own); the pair I wore were perfectly fine for coaching and tooling around in a circle but they were never quite the right pair for jumping and spinning. I retired them down to coaching skates pretty quickly. I'm glad I kept them around.

I didn't have any plans to get back into competitive figure skating anytime soon but this all but guarantees that I won't be getting back into competitive figure skating ever again.

I keep hoping that the duffel bag that they were stored in will turn up but I've all but dismantled my condo and my bedroom at my mom and dad's house with no luck. Liz couldn't find them at her house and, ugh, I hope they turn up eventually.

Even if I never skate again, I hope I find those damn skates. I hope it's soon. I am driving myself insane looking for them.

And I promised Heather's daughter that I'd take her skating again after Christmas. 

Thursday, December 11, 2014

Impulsively unsentimental

I am sentimental. About things. I am sentimental and my memory is sharp so I can look at something and recall a moment or a feeling or an event or an accomplish so clearly that I never want to get rid of it because of how easily that thing jogs my memory.

Ticket stubs. Clothes. Cards. Jewelry.

I am not a hoarder. Thankfully. I put meaning on few things. And none of those things are, like, my empty water bottles or every catalog I have ever received. My house isn't overtaken by things. But they're there. In a box. In a drawer. The things exist.

A few weeks ago -- the Sunday before Thanksgiving -- I was impulsively unsentimental.

It was late on Sunday night. It was cold and dreary and ugly. I was putting away laundry and, at the bottom of a drawer, were a few pieces of clothing that I had tucked away when I should have given them away.

My feelings on all of it had changed.

What was in the bottom of that drawer wasn't memories, it was clutter. It was taking up valuable space in my house and in my mind and in my heart and it needed to go. It needed to go right away.

Instead of being tossed amongst other things in my pile of things to donate, I got in my car, I drove to one of those not-actually-a-charity-but-posing-as-one donation bins that is a few blocks from my house and I dumped it. Gone. Out of sight. Out of mind. Out of my heart. Out of my life.

And I've done it a few times since then. I'll remember something as I'm getting ready for work in the morning and I'll run to wherever I've squirreled it away and it goes straight out to the garbage. I tear pages out of journals and destroy them.

I have no room. I have no space for it anymore. In my house. In my head. In my heart. 

I must be making room for something.

Or someone.

I wonder what.

Tuesday, December 09, 2014

Long week

I am restless this week. It is close enough to the holidays that I am not 100% present but far enough away that I really have no excuse for getting nothing done.

Yet I am getting nothing done.

It is Tuesday afternoon and my head is already halfway though Saturday. I am shopping for Christmas gifts and cleaning my bathroom. I am not at work.

But I am at work.

Making up for all of the time I spend thinking about work when I am at home.

Monday, December 08, 2014


As I told you all last week, I have decided to keep my blog up and open through December 31. I still haven't decided anything beyond that.

I have options. It's nice to have options.

1. Turn my blog private. It's the easiest option. If you want to keep reading, you send me your email address and I forward you an invitation to read and we continue on as if nothing ever happened. Except that I lose that element where someone spontaneously stumbles across the blog and leaves a comment and then I start reading her blog and leaving comments and that's at least half of the fun of keeping a blog. Possibly 65%.   

2. Migrate over to WordPress. This would give me the option of making certain posts password protected without keeping the whole damn blog under lock and key. It would be open to new random readers while I could password protect important posts, restricting them to trusted, longtime readers. Important stuff, pictures, polls about the dress I should wear to the Kentucky Derby. (Again.) It would be a lot of upfront work but it probably wouldn't kill me.    

3. Start over. Brand new blog, brand new name, brand new appreciation for keeping certain things (like where I live and what I do and what my face looks like) quiet. Pro: I shed 10 years of history. Con: I shed 10 years of history. 

4. Quit entirely. I thought that was the only option that I wouldn't truly consider but it isn't. Not really blogging over the last 10 days has come easier than I thought it would. Maybe it's time to move on.

5. Give no fucks and stay the course. This is tempting, as it would require the least amount (read: no) work and I am generally a lazy person. But, considering that I'm working in a moderately public position that, if I stay in this industry, would likely become more public as I advance, I should do something. Having a stranger out my blog to my sister was one thing, getting called out in a public meeting about it would be something else entirely.

So, that's where I am. Lost in indecision.

I do plan on resuming somewhat normal* blogging shortly, but Christmas shopping and watching countless episodes of Scandal does not an interesting blog make.

*Normal for me. Not normal normal. 

Thursday, December 04, 2014

How about a list?

Alternate title for this entry: I Need a Break From Writing About Last Thursday

1. Serial: still obsessed
2. Scandal: were you wondering where I was and what I was up to in the blogless stretch of days following Thanksgiving? Watching Scandal. In my bed. I started the series just last week (I've been meaning to for months) and it has basically become a full-time job.
3. Christmas shopping: always a struggle.
4. Christmas everything else: I have decked the halls. I am feeling exceptionally merry. Smiling's my favorite.
5. Work: I am either killing it or I am a lazy slug and must force myself to work and there is nothing between these two extremes. Right now I'm killing it. Killing it always feels better.
6. Snacks: all the snacks, all the time.
7. My hair: looks exceptionally good today.
8. Remind me: to write about my recent, unusual lack of sentimentality.
9. Finally: read that F'book message from my mom's friend's son. As I had feared, he asked me out. As he probably expected on account of my not opening his message for three weeks, I politely declined. 
10. Curious: about what's happening in your lives. Any news to report, friends?

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