Not Quite Betty Crocker

Oh, boy, was it hard to get out of bed this morning, not that I did so particularly early, or that we’d been sleeping in particularly late. This morning just felt… different.  Serious.  Weighted with responsibility.

I spent the past four days in the almost constant company of my husband.  I’d been worried that our relationship wouldn’t withstand so much togetherness, especially when burdened with the expectations surrounding “a holiday.”

In fact, we had a great time.  We spent Christmas Eve as each others’ only guests, lounging on the couch drinking coffee, having a beer while waiting for our Christmas gift order (of beer!) to be filled, driving across town on a lobster run, and eating until we were food drunk.  It was very fun and special, yet free of the stress that comes from having people over. If the bathroom floor stayed covered in a thin layer of dog prints, so be it.  If the kitchen was less than sparkling, no problem.

We opened gifts throughout the day and agreed to continue the tradition.  One gift at a time with time to enjoy until the next one: perfect.  My fears that he’d be disappointed in his mostly-practical gifts were unfounded; he loved being restocked with t-shirts, socks and underwear (as would I).  I was blown away by his generosity and accuracy in gift-choosing.  {And woo, hoo, I finally got the entire catalog of “The West Wing,” one of my favorite TV shows, ever.}

We fought once, mostly my doing, but made up the next morning and moved on with our lives.  Other than wishing we had fewer animals – wishing fervently and actively – we had a great time!

And now it’s Monday.  Ugh.

My office is visual evidence of my reluctance to go back to work.  Or maybe it’s evidence of the enormity of the transition: every inch is covered in holiday project crap.  For the past two weeks, my cozy little corner office was Craft Central as I quilted my little heart out (and wrapped and taped and ribboned and stashed).  This morning I stuck my laptop on the piece of desk that seemed least cluttered – and I just realized I’m balancing on a piece of fabric.

So in a second I’ll get off my bum and try to create some order.  With the new year comes a new gig, one requiring more focus, strategy, and hours, and until I figure out how to actually do the job, I’m going to have to trick myself into believing I’m capable… and that means working in an office more suited for negotiating than stitching.

Does anyone else get the urge to move furniture when you need (or can’t avoid) a change?  Is that what nesting is?  {And if you’re particularly great at room arrangement, wanna help a girl out?}

Remember this post, about being in control of money and having a budget and paying shit off?  November and December threw that all to hell, and I can’t wait to be back in the peace of not spending money.   Crazy, but true.

The holiday season is tough for me, my stressed spendthrift self warring with the indulgent generous one.  I LOVE to give people gifts, HATE to spend money, LOVE to wrap things, HATE to pay for them…. I just know I’m going to regret spending that dollar later, but then I throw it all aside to fork over the ten bucks for the latest cool razor my husband will use until he has to buy new cartridges (we never get around to that, so then he’ll buy a different razor when he can’t stand the itchy beard). 

Ten bucks, people.  I called a freaking razor a stocking stuffer.  (Lucky for me he won’t mind.  But wrapping the shaving cream might have been a little over the line.)

To top it off, my husband’s birthday is in early January, so I have to come up with a gift idea less than two weeks after Christmas.  The idea isn’t the difficult part; limiting myself to an acceptable cost is.  Actually, deciding what an acceptable cost would be is the toughest.  This year I’ve wanted to buy him a Wii (and extra controllers and games and such), take him snowboarding, spring for a trip to DC… and I think we could surely afford any of those if I stopped accidentally dropping a hundred bucks on a quick trip to Walmart for cat litter.

So here I am, on Christmas Eve, putting a plan together so I can get back to breathing normally.  Here’s hoping it helps!

To avoid the accidental purchases of somewhat-necessary but mostly-optional goods that make my quick trips ridiculously expensive: Alice.com.  Yep, I’m going to give it a shot.  When I lived in NYC, I had groceries delivered once a week, significantly cutting down on my grocery budget.  Let’s hope this service works similar magic on toiletries, because coupons just didn’t cut it.  (I bought a bunch of name brand crap I wouldn’t normally buy.  Everything either sits in a closet for some day in the future when I might need a shot of energy drink – not – or made me fall for high-priced brands I’m loath to buy again.)  Also, a trip to Walmart should not count as shopping; let’s stop pretending.

To prevent the feeling that a hundred bucks will change my life: automatic savings withdrawals.  Does that make sense?  We make way too much money for me to feel as strongly as I do about a hundred dollars, never mind a thousand.  People call into Dave Ramsey’s radio show and he says, “$1500 would change your life, wouldn’t it?” And it would.  But it shouldn’t change my life, not with the number of dollars coming into and out of this household.  So I have a savings goal of $10,000 for 2010 – straight savings, not vacation money or fun money or vet bills money.  My theory is that if I have money just sitting there, hanging out, patting me on the shoulder and telling me it’ll all be all right, my stress about the ten dollar razors will lessen.

To deal with kitchen-avoidance and restaurant-regret and fake-food-weight-gain: a limit on the number of meals we eat out.  I like to cook.  I like to eat the food I make.  We have a chest freezer full of frozen stuff, magazines chock full of yummy looking recipes, and this.  And yet, my default reaction to being hungry is to go somewhere, for two reasons: 1) the kitchen is trashed and I have to clean it before I’ll cook in it (is that a woman thing, because my husband will prop a cutting board atop a stack of dirty dishes?), or 2) the experience of eating out with my husband gives us time to talk and catch up (usually, unless the restaurant has a TV, in which case my hopes of getting through a conversation is nil).  But when we eat most meals at home, I feel better.  The kitchen gets used (and cleaned), we spend less money, and we’re more satisfied with our meals (and waistlines).  And I need to stop eating my way through my income.  So we’ll go back to eating out for one lunch and one dinner a week.  The bonus: we can spend more on a single meal that way.  Yay, sushi!

To manage the fear of future vet bills: fewer animals, pet insurance, and a pet care fund.  We have eight animals right now.  Yikes!  Five of them are permanent family members; three are “bonus.”  It’s time to kick Operation Finding Bonus Dog a Home into high gear, decide whether the two black cats would be better off in another home, and suck it up and pay for pet insurance.  Every animal will get their own Health Month in which they’ll be vetted, shot, and manicured.  We can handle one every other month.  On the off months we’ll stock up on pet food, dog chews, and critter preventative – so each month will have the same amount budgeted, see?  {Side note: anyone want a sweet dog or a pair of nice but feisty black male cats?}

And… to feel like we’re just a bit more in control of everything: a family budget.  First, I need to be more stringent with my own budgeting, but then… then I need to convince my husband that we should have a plan for his money, too.  Wish me luck.  We’re at a better place in our relationship than we were right after we got married (and I tried and failed), so maybe we’ll succeed this time.  Let’s call this a bonus goal, though, just in case.

I’d love to give this post a better title, like, “Ten tips for surviving the holidays with in-laws,” but I can’t.  This whole honesty thing makes for much less titillating headlines, because a) I haven’t tried them yet so I can’t call them tips, and b) “surviving” makes for such negative connotations.

It’s not my in-laws’ fault they’re not my family.  They are their own family, and I wouldn’t expect my people to be any different than they are, so it’s unfair to wish the same on my husband’s people (even though mine might be louder and rowdier and therefore slightly more fun).

See, even there, I’m comparing them to my peeps, and of course that sets us all up for frustration and drama and a little bit of foot-stomping.  My husband is much better at this holidays thing: he’s joined me more than once for Christmas and enjoyed the things that were different from his experience.

So in that spirit, here’s my plan for getting through the holidays with someone else’s family:

1. I’m going to stop thinking of them as not-my-family.  This is my children’s family.  They’ll someday have fond memories of the quiet, relaxed side of the family (like I do of Christmas Day with my dad’s family) just as much as they’ll enjoy the raucous, crazy side of the family (like my memories of my mom’s side of the family).  See the symmetry? 
2. I’m going to experience the holidays like an observer would.  Did you ever join a friend on holidays with their family?  It was a much different experience than this in-law thing, because you didn’t have any expectations.  If you made comparisons, they were factual, not emotional. So just like my mom tells me stories about my dad’s side of the family and their celebrations, I’m going to watch with an observer’s eye so I can tell my kids about their dad’s side of the family.
3. I’m going to remind myself that this isn’t a zero-sum game. Sure, we all make compromises in the name of marriage, but this isn’t an all-or-nothing deal.  We’ll spend holidays with my family again, next year, in fact, so I need to stop thinking about this Christmas as “the Christmas I wasn’t home” and start thinking about it as “the Christmas we got to spend at home.”
4. I’m going to enjoy the quiet moments rather than wish them away.  Every year since I moved away in 2004, I’ve had to deal with holiday travel – the expense, the frustration, the hours and hours on the road.  Every year.  I buy gifts based on weight and suitcase availability, wave goodbye to my animals and prepare to come home to a trashed house and mounds of laundry when we return.  But this year, we get to sleep late in our own bed, enjoy our many animals and their shenanigans, bake treats for the neighbors, watch Christmas movies on repeat, wear our pajamas all day, eat lobster for lunch on Christmas Eve… the list goes on and on.  A good friend remarked that she wished she and her husband had the chance to create their own traditions – while I was wishing that I was packing to go to snowy Boston for the holidays.  The Christmas is always cheerier on the other side.
5. I’m going to do the little things that remind me of my peeps… even if they take effort and shopping and money.  So, tomorrow we’re going to make tamales, darn it, and maybe try to bake biscochos.  We are going to wear Christmas pajamas and eat a big ol’ ribeye roast and snack on yummy appetizers and drink wine and open presents and enjoy the fire tomorrow night. And maybe play Scrabble. On Christmas Day, we are taking our Christmas freaking spirit (and tamales and biscochos) to my sister-in-law’s house, plus handmade gifts I hope they don’t hate, and we are going to have a good time.
6. I’m going to grow up, be a wife and enjoy this new life.  I’m still going to whine and maybe even shed a tear because I won’t be with my peeps, but that’s part of growing up and getting married and being someone’s wife (and someday, mother).  Seven months ago (tomorrow!) we gave up our “before” and walked into our “after,” and this is part of our after.  His people became my people.

How are you doing with the whole holidays thing?  Do you have any other hints?

I should be finishing my next-to-last Christmas gift (so that I can get to the LAST – hallelujah -- Christmas gift) but instead I found myself writing a blog post in my head.  Again.  The same blog post as the last three times I noticed myself writing blog posts in my head, so I figured it was time.

Why do so many of us have discomfort in celebrating holidays with our in-laws?

I’ve been thinking about this because I like my in-laws, but I’ve been kind of poopy about Christmas with them.  (Hi, sister-in-law!)  I’ve been a brat, wanting to scream “No!” every time I hear about plans, any plans, but without a good reason.  I just don’t wanna.

{Consider my silence on the whole matter evidence of my maturity.}

This is the first time since 2004 I haven’t been back in New Mexico for Christmas.  That year, I stayed in New York City with my husband, our first year away from family in a new city with fabulous Christmas traditions of its own.  It was fun, but I barely remember it.

What I do remember is being home for Christmas in the year I was most alone.  Then a year later, bringing my new boyfriend home (for the first time ever at the age of 28) to meet my overwhelmingly fabulous family, all 19876 of them at once.  He handled it like a champ.  We went back the next year and had a great and relaxing time.

This year we’re here, a compromise offered that seemed fair at the time, except now I want stomp my feet and wave my fists and declare my unwillingness to believe in fair, thankyouverymuch.  I just want to be back home.

And then I remember: home is here.  I’m married.  We’re a family.  And I wonder why it’s been so hard to disengage from my family-of-origin this time when I don’t recall any angst the first time around.  Maybe the second time is harder because you know more clearly what you’re giving up.  In the years I lived hundreds of miles away from them as I attempted to grow up and own up, they welcomed me home and for a few days, I knew exactly what to expect, how to act, what to say. 

I got to be the filter-less ME.

Newlywed life is tough.  Fun and fantastic, but tough.  I keep my mouth shut much more often than before; try harder; wish more.  Wishing is bad.  Nobody should have to try this hard.  And I’m tired of keeping my mouth shut.  It sucks my soul.

So this year more than ever, I want to go home.  I want to remember what it feels like to just be me around people who have known me forever and can’t leave me.  We’re all stuck with each other and I love that.

Instead, my husband and I are struggling to be what each other needs.  We’re exhausted, frankly, and wishing we’d opted to go to the place where traditions absolve you of the need to do anything but go with the flow.  My family’s traditions are big enough that they carry on despite, well, almost anything.  My mom has nine sisters, so even if some people can’t make it, other people will.  We don’t have to think or decide or make anything happen.

We’re feeling the burden of being the grown-ups who have to make things happen.  We’re tired.  We’re prone to grinchiness and sitting around in front of the TV.  But we’ve sucked it up and found some Christmas spirit.  We put up a tree, planned a Christmas Eve dinner, bought each other presents.

And when I want to scream “No!” because I wish I was with my family, I’ll remind myself that this is my family now.  My in-laws, my husband and I are my children’s family, just as much as my parents are.  We’ll build traditions in preparation for our kids, which is a much more fun way to think about it, even if all we do is spend an hour or two together on Christmas Day.

{But I can’t wait to go back next year, prettypleasethankyou.}

“Hey!  I have an idea!  I’ll make everyone’s gifts this year!”

“It’ll save us money, be really neat-o and sentimental, and it’ll give me something to do!” {Hours and hours of things to do.}

“The dogs will help.” {Um, yea, almost killed them.}

“And then I’ll learn how to be creative with fabric!” {I patched the holes.}

{Both of them.}

“I’ll make a warm one for my dad because he’s always cold like me.” {Fleece backing}

“And a pretty pink one for my stepsister…”

“… and a similar one – but tweened out with hot pink polka dots – for my niece.”

“One for my sister, and hey, maybe I’ll accidentally go crazy and do the quilting in a PITA starburst pattern.”

“And I’ll make one for my mom, but I’ll do that last because she sews and maybe by then I’ll be able to sew a straight line!” {Nope.}

“What the heck, I’ll even make a scarf and Christmas throw for the $10 limit gift exchange!  I have plenty of time!” {Shoot me.}

{I haven’t even started on the gifts for my husband, best friend, sister-in-law, mother-in-law, or brother yet.}

{Maybe I should have spent the time learning about aperture and exposure so every picture in this series wouldn’t be wonky.}

“You can find faith anywhere,” she said, and I was comforted, but not anymore. 

I don’t want to find faith anywhere; I want to find faith everywhere.

The list of things I lack is long - self-confidence, balls, patience, objectivity (and many others) – but the one I want the most is faith.

Faith in people gets you through the frustrations.  More than “I’m sure he didn’t mean it” (because, rest assured, he did), faith lets you separate the behavior from the person.

Faith in love gets you peace and ease and the ability to just live your life without worrying about being worthy or useful or lovable.

Faith in the flux of time gets you through the rough patches.  If things can go bad, after all, they can go well again, too.

And seriously, how can you not have faith in something as immutable as time?  And yet I don’t.  It’s like the girl I knew in college who didn’t believe in averages.

Averages, people.  She didn’t believe in averages.  “I’ve never seen a family with two and a half kids, so how do I know they exist?  I just don’t believe in averages.”  Direct quote, I swear it.

That’s me, except with time.  When things are bad, I can’t imagine them ever being good again.  I have to tell myself over and over, “Things will be good again.  Believe.”

Maybe I don’t just need faith, maybe I need something more.  Faith is belief in things you can’t see or verify.  I don’t even believe in those I can.  What do you call that?

Crazy.  Or The Crazy as the lovely Clink used to call it.  How can you have abandonment issues when you’ve never been abandoned?  Evidently I do, and that’s just pathetic.

During the lowest point to-date in our fledgling marriage, I wrote: “How does it ever get better when, in spite of your brain understanding that things will always get better – they always do – your heart loses it’s shit at the prospect of being alone?”  I reread this post when I want to throw something at my husband (in a classic example of your future self talking to your past self, except in reverse) and I’m stunned by the rawness, by the honesty, by the accuracy.  Why don’t I feel like I know this yet, even though I couldn’t have written it more clearly?  To myself!

“Most of my relationship stories start like this: once upon a time, I was married to a different husband.  But they really should start like this: my parents divorced when I was nine and I fear abandonment over all else, though wasn’t abandoned then and haven’t been since.”

I want faith.  I need faith.  I’ve got to have faith. (Sing it. You know you are.)  I think that’ll be my focus for 2010.  On the bright side, this week of angsty posts is brought to you by a three-minute conversation, five minutes of tears, and not a single cuss word.  That’s progress, peeps.

“I think I made a mistake.”

That’s what I think when things go wrong. Every time. Fighting with my husband, bad surprise at work, terrible news about, well, anything, and…

“Oh, God, I think I made a mistake.”

The first thing you think when things go bad says a lot about you.

“Oh, no, this is going to be really bad,” might be factual once or twice, but if you think that every time, it’s probably not. “I just knew this was going to happen to me,” suggests a bit of paranoia and maybe some poor-me, don’t you think?

“Oh, this is definitely a mistake” says that I take too much responsibility and blame for everything. It says I believe bad things are my fault. It says I think I knew enough to know better, even when I didn’t.

My first thought when things go wrong says I live in regret. It says I need faith.

I want to live in faith. I want to stop worrying that every imperfection in my marriage will come back to haunt me because in my fcuked up universe there is perfect karma. I’ve been there, I know how liars learn. I want to believe we’ll get through things and that just like things get worse, they get better, too. I want to remember to breathe until the urge to throw something passes without having to recite, “Breathe. Don’t throw things,” over and over and over again.

I want to stop saying these things and start feeling them.

So the next time I am screaming within the depths of my head that “I think I made a mistake!!” I’m going to try like hell to think this next:

The future is never wrong – even when it’s not what you expected. (hat tip)

I’m not a fan of hype. For years I didn’t watch major motion pictures or TV shows because I was turned off by the hype.

Lost, for instance. Not even one time, sorry.

So when I read about Seth Godin’s latest (free) eBook on no fewer than three of the blogs I regularly read (in one day!), I was a bit turned off.

I read about it here and here and here. Nope.

But then Penelope Trunk mentioned it. And Dave Ramsey did, too. And when two writers who speak to me say it’s good – say something good in it – how can I not read it?

So I did. And I’m here to tell you that it’s good. Not just good, in fact, but GOOD. So good I find myself repeating a certain sentence in my head over and over because it’s so damned good.

“Art can’t happen without someone who seeks to make a difference. This is your art, it’s what you do. You touch people or projects and change them for the better. This year, you’ll certainly find that the more you give the more you get.” –Seth Godin

“Until Fear is gone (and realize he may never completely leave), make the decision to be courageous. The world needs your story in order to be complete.” –Anne Jackson

“Dignity is more important than wealth.” –Jacqueline Novogratz

“Dear ones, EASE UP. Pump the brakes. Take a step back. Seriously. Take two steps back…. My radical suggestion? Cease participation, if only for one day this year – if only to make sure that we don’t lose forever the rare and vanishing human talent of appreciating ease.” – Elizabeth Gilbert

“Leadership is more than influence. It is about reminding people of what it is we are trying to build – and why it matters. It is about painting a picture of a better future.” -Michael Hyatt

“I worked on my weaknesses for forty years to little avail. Still ‘needs improvement,’ as they say. Why? Easy. We hate the things we’re not good at, so we avoid them. No practice makes perfect hard to attain.” –Marti Barletta

“Management isn’t natural. I don’t mean that it’s weird or toxic – just that it doesn’t emanate from nature. ‘Management’ isn’t a tree or a river. It’s a telegraph or transistor radio. Someone invented it.” –Daniel Pink

“The great challenge of the 21st century is to wage peace on a globe full of humans while repairing the unintended damage we’ve inflicted on ourselves, other beings, and the earth.” –Martha Beck

“What’s important is to be kind, and be gracious and do it in ways that make people want to do that for someone else.” –Penelope Trunk

“Mistakes happen. How you apologize matters. Don’t bullshit people – just say ‘I’m sorry." And mean it.” –Jason Fried

“It requires effort – but this effortless life isn’t as satisfying as it seems, is it? Declare war on passivity. Hush the inner voice… Disbelief is now the enemy, as is the notion of settling. Get hungry – hyena hungry. Get fired up. Find your backbone, and your wings. Flap ‘em. It’s the only way you’ll be able to fly.” –J.C. Hutchins

People, go read this. For heaven’s sakes, these are just the excerpts. I quite literally choked up while reading some of them, couldn’t wrap my mind around others. I want to print it, paper my walls with it, recite it as my mantra.

Go. I am not exaggerating. Then share your favorite excerpts in the comments. Let’s have a conversation.

I live on a really great street, one with block parties and contact lists and traditions, one of which I just learned is that when someone on the street dies, the neighbors send a flower arrangement with a banner that reads, “Royal Heights Neighbors.”

That tradition says something about my neighborhood, doesn’t it?  It says that we know each other well enough to care that someone died, to send flowers, and to note ourselves on the banner.  It also says that people live on this street a really, really long time.

Mr. Edgar Wilson was 95 when he died on Sunday morning, in his bed, in his sleep, in his home.  He was a decorated World War II veteran, receiving both silver and bronze stars for his service as a forward observer infantryman.  His family opted not to have a military burial, something I found disappointing on many levels, but it was touching and mind-boggling to hear about all this gentle man did and never mentioned.  Like creating an endowment for PhD candidates studying war.  Or getting his fellow veterans to tell their stories to the University of Tennessee’s Center for the Study of War and Society.  Or naming the auditorium he funded at Milligan College after his wife, who’d passed away years prior.

This man who could have written books about his life was my neighbor, but my conversations with him were limited to the weather and how he was feeling.  Important topics, certainly, but I never asked him deeper questions because I feared he wouldn’t want to talk about it.

So instead we all exclaimed about what a long and interesting life he lived while standing at his grave.  And I recalled that he sent us a thank you note the day after our wedding.  He sent us a thank you note.

I accompanied our street’s maven to Mr. Wilson’s funeral.  She is 84 herself and has lived in her house since she and her husband bought it (new) in 1948.  She organizes the twice-yearly block parties and we all know to duck if she’s headed our way.  But without her, I wouldn’t know the people on this street, people like Mr. Wilson.  Every time I see her, I want to hug her.

My husband says I’m just like her, that I’ll be the 84 year old woman harassing people into hosting parties.  I hope so.

On our drive home from the cemetery I asked her a thousand questions and I learned a thousand interesting things.  She and her husband were married in 1947 in the hangar of the airport owned by her father.  The first day she met her future husband, in fact, she asked him if he’d like to go for a ride.  She took him out on her plane!  They strung garland between the two planes (his and hers) for their wedding, had chairs brought over by their friend the funeral director, operated the airport until a few years after her father passed away.  We have plans for me to go over and pore through her wedding album, and I can’t wait.

Penelope talks about how to ask the right questions in your career – and she’s right – but I’m finding that asking questions in all parts of my life is just as important.  And much more interesting.

After two weeks of complete work-craziness, I have very little on my calendar today and am wallowing in it.  Also trying to back up photos to my external hard drive and failing, which is contributing to my case of the Mondays.

I made this prototype slipper last Friday:

It’s very elf-like. :)

I used bonus fabric that normally lives in the cat bed, hence the cat hair.  The pink plaid liner isn’t attached to the lip of the top of the slipper, so you can slip a little heat pack in there.  Haven’t decided if that’s enough warmth to make the whole thing worthwhile, and I can’t test it because I don’t have a microwave.  I was going to make the for-real ones this evening, but our neighbor died on Saturday night (the same night we had our neighborhood block party and talked about how he’d likely not be able to live on his own much longer).

This neighbor:

He took a fall Saturday morning and refused to go to the hospital.  A nephew came to stay with him that night.  They went to bed, and in the morning, our neighbor had passed away.  I suppose that’s not a bad way to go when you’re 95 and a WWII veteran.  Service is tonight, so we’ll be there instead.  Time to break out my funeral dress… so sad that it’s been with me (on me, technically) at so many funerals, but oddly comforting, too.  More later on the circle of life and our neighborhood.

And, to round out the telling of the shit-tastic weekend stuff, Indiana Jones Jr. Poopinski Romano Martin has a heart block.  My husband thinks I’m crazy because I consider dog-owning practice for kid-having, but I continue to learn lessons for which I’m thankful. 

This lesson was that, even when all common sense and people around you are contrary, you must stick to your guns when you have a gut feeling.  I knew something was wrong, left vet visit #1 feeling stupid for being one of those owners (you know, the hypochondriac anthropomorphizing owners), went back saying dammed to everything (money and common sense included) but something IS NOT RIGHT… and I was right.  Which sucks.

So now he’s wearing a sweatshirt because half-a-heart-rate means poor circulation means constant shivering… and we’re complete suckers letting him sleep in our bed and eat pizza with us.  Appointment at the University of Tennessee veterinary hospital in early January, strict orders not to over-excite him until then (does giving him lots of kisses count?), and trying to be thankful that we live in a place with a board certified veterinary cardiologist.

I think I’m blowing off as much of today as possible.  And by blowing off, I mean making the remaining four of eight Christmas presents that must be mailed this week.  Here’s a preview:

More pictures tonight when I finally get this godforsaken piece of metal to backup my files so I can clear enough hard drive space to download pics off my memory card.  I wish Santa would bring me a personal ‘puter.

Or crowd-crafting.  Or crowd-source-sewing.  Whatever. My new coping mechanism for being indecisive is to ask you sweet people for help.  It worked really well yesterday, so I’m trying it again!

I’ve made three quilts so far, three more to go, and I’m trying to come up with some last gift ideas.  My stepmom’s feet are always cold – I can totally relate – so I want to make her foot warmers.

Sort of like this:

or maybe like this, but for adults:

… except filled with heatable stuff like rice or flax or something.  You know, like a heat pack for your feet!  You can warm it up in the microwave for a few minutes, then slide your feet inside. 

In case you haven’t caught on, I want this for myself and am using the gift as an excuse to work through the design.  I’m a giver like that.  But hey, at least you know that if you get a gift from me, I really wish I could have kept it.

Side note: while planning our wedding, I was the non-crafty bride (bee).  The closest I came to DIY’ing a craft was, well, pathetic: I printed invitations and little signs.  That ain’t crafty, peeps, that’s rudimentary.  But I’m realizing that I am crafty when it comes to functional things like furniture or blankets or home stuff.  It’s like Cheap and Crafty had a baby and that’s me!  It’s nice to make stuff, whether that stuff is in pixel, paper or fabric.

Back to the boot things.  I think I have two options: 1) make a duplicate of each booty out of fleece and fill the cavity (bottom, sides) with rice/ flax/ whatever before adding the binding in the last step, or 2) make the booty as shown, then make another liner booty that comes out completely and is filled with rice/ flax/ whatever.

I’m not sure about putting the warm stuff on the bottom.  Might be uncomfortable to step on.  I suppose I could make it spongy instead with foam or batting.  And I’m not sure about rice versus flax.  Flax sounds nicer, but I don’t have any in my pantry, ya know?  Does it make up for it if I use jasmine rice? (har, hard) Thoughts?  Am I making ANY sense?

Simple Marriage is looking for monthly bloggers and I’m going to apply.  I chickened out when I first read about it, but then a dear friend and blog reader emailed me to tell me she thought of me when she read it, so I decided to stop being a chicken.

Now I need your help.

Cory wants the posts to be “insanely useful,” so I’m going to modify one of my posts to be more SM-style, you know, with bolded text and real paragraphs and stuff.  I might even edit out my run-on sentences.  And figure out when using hyphens is appropriate.

Would you mind telling me which of the following posts (or any others) you found really useful and why?  I’d appreciate it very much.  If you don’t find my posts useful, you’re welcome to say that, too, but it doesn’t really help me.  I’m all about honesty, though, so have at it.

Being fair is nice, but being generous is joyous

I just needed the support. It didn't have to be Barack.

Money week: and now with the epiphany (maybe renamed “How a budget can improve your marriage”)

New rules (of marriage, of life) (but shorter)

On disappointment and attitude

On fantasticness and hope

The bright side of backup planning

Trust, as an action, is a lot of inaction

How bad customer service can improve your marriage (I moved the post here)

Do you believe in scarcity or abundance?

I’m thinking about leaving the wall above the fireplace in chalkboard paint.  I’m also thinking about marrying my newfound love of bright happy fabrics and need for big art.

Like this (you can buy it here):

Imagine a couple of yards stretched across a frame (or framed) above the fireplace.  It’s modern.  It’s silly.  It’s orange.  What more can you ask for?

Well, you can ask for more, like this, which you could buy here if it wasn’t sold out (argh!):

Or either of these (you can buy here):

Or maybe these oilcloths, both from fabricworm:

People, that’s a tiger.  On a tree.  I love absurdity sometimes.

But honestly?  I love the fish best.  Possibly in a frame.

Speaking of frame, haven’t decided how to frame out the fireplace or whether to do it in black or white.  That’s next.  You know, after finishing the plumbing, window trim, painting, flooring and plumbing odds and ends at the other house.

I believe in scarcity.  So does my dog, judging by his behavior when there are treats or attention or fun things to be had.  And if I managed to teach a dog about scarcity, my children will certainly pick that up, too, and I want to avoid that.  Any suggestions?

I got screwed by a credit card company today.  I had an agreement with them, they didn’t hold up their end, and despite all that is fair and right in the world, the only option left was for me to pay their bullshit fees to make them go away.  My husband helpfully pointed this out, but I was too caught up in the unfairness of it all to do anything but sputter.  And argue with him.  Unfairly.

So on my way home, I was listening to Dave Ramsey talk a caller through putting a budget together.  It sounded so easy.  “You just take every dollar and give it a name – savings, power, food, money for each of you to spend – and if things change, you agree to talk through it and change the budget before a dollar is spent.” 

Then I realized my problem: when it comes to money, I’m not comfortable putting it anywhere.  I have no perspective.  I spend money on things that aren’t strictly necessary and it stresses me out.  I spend money on things that are strictly necessary and I wish they were less.  I save money and wish it was more. 

About the only time I feel good about spending money is if someone else confirms that it’s okay – by accepting a gift, for example.  After a not-pretty argument on Saturday about whether or not to buy a pricey power tool, I realized Sunday that not once has my husband begrudged me anything I’ve said I needed.  Not once.  Big or small, if I say it’s necessary, he’s on board.  Me?  Not so much.  So I rushed out and bought him the pricey power tool and he was so happy!  I felt good about spending the $200 because it made him happy.

I wish I was that happy when we spend money on me, but I’m not.  I feel bad.  Why?  My husband doesn’t feel bad.  Then I realized I believe in scarcity.  I guard the things I love jealously: my husband and his time, my own time, my stuff, my money.  I feel more deeply the regret from what I lack than the joy from what I have.  That’s my whole life problem in a nutshell, so I will repeat it. 

I feel more deeply the regret from what I lack than the joy from what I have.

I’m more pissed about the hundred bucks I spent to make a credit card company go away than about the hundred bucks I’ve spent on going out to eat in the last week.  But I bet I would live a happier life if instead I just accepted that I’m going to spend two hundred bucks and move on.  Or figure I’ll save a hundred bucks later to make up for it.  Or somehow manage to believe that life just isn’t fair sometimes.

I would definitely live a happier life if I believed in the abundance of love and time and attention rather than their scarcity.  I would live a happier life if I enjoyed every minute I get to cuddle with a cat/ hug a dog/ snuggle with my husband rather than waiting for that time to come to an end.  Or thinking about their misery/ boredom/ grumpiness.  (Hello, dogs don’t mind laying around and sleeping.  And if it makes me feel so bad, why don’t I just take them for a walk???) 

I would live a happier life if I stopped feeling like I have a gap to fill and started enjoying the fullness of my life.  I don’t want to yearn anymore.  I want to believe in abundance.

Studies show that infants learn to speak more quickly when their mother’s respond to their attempts at verbalizing.  Simply putting a hand on a baby’s shoulder when he looks at something and makes a sound induces him to keep trying.  Trying to get his attention and then repeating “dog!” over and over is less effective.  It’s about responding to him, not getting him to respond to you.

I wonder if this is how you keep a kid from yearning, by, at least some of the time, being responsive to them when they want it.  I wonder if my dog is jealous and defensive because when he wants my attention, I don’t give it.  Ever.  Instead I almost always just want him to wait until I can get to him and I don’t ever give anyone attention until they’ve had enough.  Cats don’t get petted for as long as they want, dogs don’t get to play until they’re tired. 

Or maybe I’m just projecting, because that’s how I feel about the world, like a nine-year old who can’t get anyone to listen to her because there’s not enough time.

{Huh.  This post went in a different direction than I expected.  And yes, I know, you’re not supposed to let your dog tell you what to do, even when it comes to cuddling.  I get it.  It was just a thought, one I have every time I notice that my dogs are as jealous and guarded with each other as my siblings and I were.}

Christmas has always been a big deal to my family.  On my mom’s side, my extended family gets together twice: once the week before Christmas to make tamales and again for the big shindig on Christmas Eve.  On my dad’s side, Christmas Day is the big day, with lots of eating and visiting and hanging out.

I’ve missed Christmas with my family only one other time, the first year I was married the first time.  I’ll be missing it again this year after taking Joey with me for the past to years.

It seemed fair.

Except that his family has less solid traditions.  I’ve been quizzing him for weeks, teasing little snippets of stories out of him as I try to figure out what Christmas will be like this year, and I’m fairly sure there’s a lot less family time and a lot more non-traditional time.

So I’m on a mission to create some traditions for our new little family so that I don’t miss my family (of origin) so much.  Coming from such a large family with such ingrained plans, this is both scary and exciting.  Realistically, we won’t always be back home with my family for the holidays, and I want us to have traditions with our family here, too.

What if our Christmas Eve is a total dud while everyone is partying back home?  What if we have just another day?  I feel like this is an opportunity, but I need your help.

Here’s what we have so far:

Christmas Eve: new pajamas (Christmas pj’s, of course) and a fire and… something.  I suggested putting up the tree, but he wants it up earlier than that.  Given how much else we have going on, my way might prevail.  The pj’s are a tradition I want to continue when we have kids and is extra special because it’s a mobile tradition: we can put on new Xmas pj’s wherever in the country we are.  Maybe we can exchange gifts, he and I and my brother (who will be visiting for Christmas, yay!)… but what else? I’m leaning toward doing all the decorating that night, but then we won’t be much in the holiday spirit ahead of time, ya know?

Christmas Day: his family comes over, we start with a simple brunch in the late morning, watch National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation while we digest and finish dinner, then eat again in the early afternoon.  Should we play games? Sing songs? (just kidding about the songs) Bake cookies?  His peeps don’t tend to hang out for long and I’m trying to keep us together for at least a little while.  I want us all to be comfortable hanging out, but I’m not generally good at setting that kind of a stage.

What do you do for Christmas? Got any traditions we can steal (ahem, borrow) from you?  Thoughts on how to make sure everyone doesn’t stand around chatting awkwardly?

More thoughtful posts coming soon (hopefully) but for today – with a nagging headache from one (one!) beer last night and a ton of frustrating work this afternoon – let’s go with a “dump the brain” format.

But no bullets.

~

Doesn’t it feel like a lot of us are going through some kind of life transition?  Some are related to work, others to life/ living/ relationship situations, but ‘tis the season for decision-making, apparently.  Do you feel this, too?

~~

I’m grappling with what I need to change about my persona – communication style, focus, choices – in order to get things done in this (alleged) new job.  I know that I need to stop being such a sucker for the complainers, focus more on the end result, and not worry so much about miffing people by sticking my nose in things.  That’s my job, after all.  I think the best thing to do is make a list of whose opinions/ reactions/ feelings I do and don’t care about. 

In my personal life, I do this all the time:  Joey > family/ friends > neighbors > acquaintances > strangers.  This is how I avoid caring more about the person waiting behind us at the drive-through than my husband.  It’s how I don’t hesitate to kick the cat out of bed if it bothers my husband, make sure the dogs don’t harass the cats, and put the well-being of a runaway animal above my embarrassment that my neighbors are hearing me call for him (yet again).

So for now, I keep repeating to myself: What’s my goal? Who matters? What do they need?

~~~

This new job (which looks like it’ll happen, knock on wood) means a lot more work and a lot less free time for me.  I’m fine with that.  I like having a lot to do; it makes me feel useful and important.  However, for the duration of my relationship and marriage I’ve worked from home in a cushy job, so this is a change for us.  Joey’s on board with it, but I find myself both wanting to plan for the changes and avoiding planning lest I jinx things.

But then I remembered that I wrote this:

You have to be prepared for goodness too, because it’s way easier to mess up than the bad.

Part of looking at the bright side is expecting that things will go well and having a plan for that, too.

So I’m planning ahead for the good, too, things like: we’ll need to have the house cleaner come back regularly, put in a fence so the dogs can get more exercise, schedule regular vacations to reconnect.  These things fly in the face of the Dave Ramsey “gazelle intense paying things off” thing.  I haven’t figured out how to reconcile them yet.

~~~~

Big plans for the weekend?  We’re working on the other house as usual, but tonight we’re babysitting my favorite neighbor baby and hanging with some new friends (yes, Jen, we’re going to L’s).  Maybe we’ll find some Christmas spirit!

Oh – and as a final wrap for my whole efficiency drama and quilting: Inefficiencies are what make you special.  So there.

My horoscope for today:

If you know what you want, don't be afraid to go after it. Now it's your turn to watch your dreams come true. The stars are on your side, which should provide you with the assertiveness you need to go after the things you find important. Use your intuition if you get stuck about which way to go next. Your inner voice is shouting directions to you, but you have to be willing to listen to benefit from it. Although others may offer you their assistance, a certain amount of satisfaction comes with the knowledge you're doing this on your own.

You thrive on stress. The more you have on your plate, the better you perform. Things are buzzing around the office lately, and you're working at your optimum potential. Don't let anything get in the way of your smooth momentum.

This morning I met with my current boss to talk about that potential new role.  After much angst a few weeks ago, I hit the point where either way would be fine.  Of course, that means that this morning we settled on the job and are moving forward.  It’s a promotion, lots more work, very stressful, and right in line with my talents.  My “inner voice” is completely calm about it all, like it’s fact already.  Next up: negotiating salary, which I’ve frankly never done and am about to learn.

And about an hour ago, I chose to go the brutal honesty route with a customer.  They took it really well.

Back to work now!

Along with the many other things I learned by having a wedding (I need to finish my recaps, I know), I figured out when and how to let go of a budget.  The assumption, obviously, is that I actually have a budget to let go of, which I (usually, generally, mostly) do now.

My stress levels hit a high the week before our wedding because little purchases kept coming up that couldn’t be helped.  You need ten power strips to make sure you have music, you don’t really have time to shop and compare and go the cheapest route, you know? 

We hit the same thing on the other house and I struggle mightily not to give Joey a hard time that we need to buy another $50 worth of plumbing supplies just to get finished.  You can read about that recent epiphany here (poor hubby, had to deal with all the pressure and frustration plus me).

And now, with the holiday season, we’re in another one of those “can’t be helped” situations.  I’m trying to learn a lesson here, because I firmly believed you are blessed with multiple opportunities to find a graceful way to handle things until you finally do.  Put a less bright way: you are doomed to repeat the same frustrating cycle until you find a way to handle things differently.

I’ve decided while I can’t let go of my internal insistence on the most efficient or inexpensive route, I’m going to give us the freedom to spend less stringently until January.  Next year, we’ll need to do more advance planning, but this year, we’re in the middle of it all, and the project manager in me knows that when you’re in the middle, you throw the plan away and do your best.

Apparently this new quilt thing is a learning vehicle for me.  Love that.  As I’m making these labor-intensive gifts for Christmas, my brain is wondering if it would have been cheaper to buy them, if people will even like them, how much I spent on start-up costs and per unit – all financial calculations. 

Then I remind myself that life isn’t all about the financials.  Sure, some things are, but the value of a gift made by your sister (or daughter or aunt or daughter-in-law) is more than the sum of materials.  That’s what I’m giving: a little bit of my time and caring embodied in a blanket.

My paternal grandmother gave me a quilt years and years ago for Christmas.  We weren’t close, she and I, I don’t think she made it herself and for years I kept it around just because… but then something changed and I felt comforted by her presence through that quilt.  I think you have to grow into sentimental gifts, and I anticipate that as our family grows, these evidences of my family will mean more to me.

So this evening, when I’m making my fifteen hundredth trip to buy more quilt supplies, I’m going to be reassured that it’s not about the extra fifty bucks, it’s about five years from now when my niece or siblings or their children get cold, pull out a quilt they may or may not even like, and think of me.

And at least we have the money to spend, even if part of me wishes I got to save it.

First, context from Ryan of Pacing the Panic Room:

It could be a dinner thing or just a simple run in at the park, you're all standing around laughing and enjoying yourselves, and inevitably there is a couple that starts taking turns telling embarrassing shitty stories about one another.

I admit that in social settings I have been nervous that she will launch into some gut wrenching embarrassment of something I had just done minutes before friends arrival, but as I have learned over the months she never rats me out. I do some of the dumbest, grossest, most immature crap ever, and Cole always keeps it between us. Of course we do things that irritate each other, but we are still in the blissful phase of our marriage where we don't tell everyone we know about it. Will this stop? Is this seemingly disrespectful behavior actually just honesty?

Second, honesty: I do this, but I think (I think!) only to my best friend.  I do.  Sometimes it’s out of frustration and a need for advice, yes, but other times, I hear myself telling “Joey’s such a dork” stories as my default. 

No, I tell those kinds of stories to my mom, too.  Most often, in fact.  I tell the kind of stories where the end result is eye-rolling and laughing.  Why do I do that?  Why not sing his praises?  He is pretty bad-ass, if I do say so myself.  Really.  He’s funny and silly and caring and he deals with life when I can’t manage it.  He loves puppies, hugs kitties, and makes a huge mess in the kitchen trying to keep me from having responsibility for every meal.  And every single morning, he makes coffee and brings it to me in bed.

Why don’t I tell those stories?  I suspect they’re too sweet for me, but I don’t know because I’ve never tried.  And I wonder if he feels like I’m betraying his confidences by telling them, even just to those closest to me.  Probably.  More importantly, I feel like I’m betraying his confidences.

Except that, once upon a time, I kept everything about my husband between he and I.  Everything.  From the annoying to the ridiculously frustrating, I kept my mouth shut out of loyalty.  And then I started to believe that he was perfect and I was broken and things spiraled out of control from there.  He’s not my husband anymore, and I wonder how much better our marriage would have been if I’d been brave enough to talk about the bad so that someone kind and caring could set me straight, tell me that frustrations and annoyances are part of being married.  They change, they go away, they get worse, but something is always there, annoying the bejeezus out of you.

So now I tell almost everything to a few people and their responses help me figure out what matters and what doesn’t.  Maybe I am broken, but I can’t keep perspective unless I get input, at least for now.  Maybe forever.

But I can tell better stories to other people, because that’s part of this honesty thing too: my husband brings me coffee in bed every morning.  Husbands, in addition to being annoying and dumping coffee grounds all over in the process, do that, too.

{Remind me to do a post about how I can’t watch a lot of TV anymore because all of the sitcoms depict such terrible snarky marriages.}