Internet Grapes

can't see the wall for the surface of the brick

can't see the wall for the surface of the brick
Originally uploaded by jessamyn.n.

Seems like I could say something metaphorical here about how my life has been lately. I think the insanity of my job and the lack of sleep and the worry about money has given me a very shallow depth of field, most of the time. Only seeing bricks, not the whole wall. Only seeing trees, not the figurative forest. Only feeling the bumps, not appreciating the ride. Worse, I keep actually confusing the bumps with the ride, the trees with the forest, the bricks with the wall.

What I'm trying to say is that I keep confusing the parts of my life that are currently difficult for me with what's actually my whole life. I have had a tendency to talk about my life sucking, or about hating my life, even though really the sucking thing really only applies to a few things about my life, and even though that second part has never really been true. I hate an hour here, an hour there. Sometimes I hate almost a whole day. But even on those bad, bad days, there is still Annabel's fuzzy head and her quiet chuckles. There is my husband making me dinner and telling me he's proud of me. There is Katie giving me hugs and singing me songs. And sometimes, even, other random acts of kindness which feel more important than you might think they would: there is the man, offering me his seat on the el, for no reason that I can tell other than because maybe he looks at my face and thinks I look tired. There is the co-worker, telling me, "Don't ever let anybody tell you that you can't write."  (For the whole rest of the day, I felt grateful.)

for myself

scarf
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

About a month ago (maybe more?) I decided to go to The Yarn Store and buy some yarn.  I was going to buy the prettiest, nicest, best and most beautiful yarn that I saw.  I wouldn't even look at the price.  (You don't really want to know how much I spent, and really, I'd rather not dwell on it.)

And so I bought that yarn you see up above, and I'm making myself a scarf.  With any luck, I will finish it this weekend, in time to wear it once or twice (or 10 times?  more?)  before the end of winter in Chicago.  Just looking at the unfinished scarf (throwing it around my neck every so often to see how long it's getting) makes me happy. 

I had never done any knitting when I took a knitting class in September of 2004.  Taking the class was a gift to myself - an hour or so every week that wasn't spent at work or doing housework or taking care of a baby.  The very first thing I made was a scarf, and I kept it for myself, because it had too many mistakes for me to willingly give it to anyone else.

Since then, I have knit scarves, children's sweaters, slippers, hats, and purses.  I kept none of them.  And almost without exception, I forgot, before sending my creation out in the world, to even take a picture of it. 

I figured it was time I made something for myself, a present to me, from me. 

I have a lot going on these days, in some ways.  At any moment, big changes could be afoot, and so I think I have been trying to keep myself in a constant state of readiness.  I try not to plan too much, do too much, push myself too much.  "I'll have enough going on soon enough," I think.  "I'm going to take it easy on myself."

But then the big changes don't happen, and I am left in the same place.  I haven't moved.  I haven't grown.  More specifically, I haven't written, I haven't taken many pictures, I haven't taken any classes, I haven't gone back to the gym, and I haven't gotten serious about dieting. 

I have no real wrap up for this.  Taking the time to write this is part of my (repeated) realization that writing is something that helps me stay happy.  When I stop, I'm hurting myself.  So I'm goin to try - again - to write here more often.  I hope that there are still people out there reading, of course.  But even if you're not, I'm going to have to do it for myself.

November 29th

Hoosier country (November 27th)
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

Some people hate the flatness of Indiana, and I admit, it can be boring to drive there - more boring than in some other places. Still, I love the huge expanses of sky stretching over the fields so wide you can't see the other sides of them. I love the red barns, blue (or white) skies, yellow corn in orderly rows.

I am feeling up and down lately. I love the holiday season. We had a nice Thanksgiving last week, just the three of us, and then on Saturday Katie and I went down to my dad & stepmom's for a short visit. Now we're home, and work is settling down some, and this weekend is my trip to Washington DC with friends.

And I remember how we were last year about this time, financially - strapped. This year we are doing so much better, although I still worry a lot. My student loan payment to Northwestern doubled a few months ago (and it was over $500 to begin with), and our car payment on "new new car" is about $100 more than the payment on "new car." Also, we're paying for Katie's day care now - Geoff's dad is helping some, which is great, but still there is less room in our budget. And we have to pay another year of tuition for Geoff, so we are trying to set aside money for that. This is the last year that he is allowed to remain in the program, so he is going to finish the degree next year come hell or high water.

There are other things, about Geoff's job, that I could write about, but I guess I shouldn't write about it here.

Clearly I have not been keeping up with daily posts, or daily photos, and I feel bad about that. On the one hand, it's only a promise to myself, really, right? So I shouldn't feel too guilty about not following through. On the other hand, there's an argument to be made that the promises to yourself should, perhaps, be most sacred of all.  I am trying to be kind of myself while still pushing myself to do more.  It feels like a balancing act.

This is the first year that Katie is going to understand anything at all about Christmas. So far, so good. We are going with the whole Santa story, which occasionally feels a little weird, since I normally try so hard to be totally straight with her. Then again, I remember loving Santa myself, and I did not feel betrayed, later. (I never thought that the mall Santas were the REAL Santa - only helpers of Santa. The real Santa is too busy at the North Pole making toys to be hanging out in malls, duh!) Now she mentions Santa Claus rather often. She has told me quite a few times that "Santa is a snow man." We're planning to put the ornaments on our Christmas tree tonight, and every time I mention it, Katie says, "Maybe Santa Claus will help us." Last weekend my dad pointed out some Hostessy-type treats at the grocery store and asked her if she wanted them. She looked at them, then patted them and walked away, saying, "Maybe Santa Claus will bring me them."

Wherever I am now is pretty good, despite some minor difficulties. And my future, immediate and far-off, stretches out ahead of me. Sometimes, when it gets close to winter and I start to feel a little tired, I remind myself of that, of the way my life gets better and better with each passing year, at the way I get smarter and more organized, at the way I write more often and, sometimes, more better (heh); I remind myself that I am improving, and that just because a dream hasn't come true yet doesn't mean it won't. And I remind myself of how lucky I am already.

As winter approaches, what do you tell yourself?

Way to tell you're in a good holiday mood #537 (November 22nd)

Peace
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

You actually dance in your chair a little bit to a Christmas pop song sung by N*SYNC.

And you're not even ashamed to tell the whole internet.

I know!

Grateful (November 21st)

mischief maker
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

Linda posted an entry today and asked us to tell her what we were grateful for.  I posted this:

I’m grateful for my daughter, and so many of her attributes, especially the way she gives hugs & kisses (like this: hug, kiss, grab the hair on top of your head to pull you in for an Eskimo kiss, “noggin” (which is bumping the tops of your heads together), another hug, another kiss - and sometimes if you’re really lucky, she sort of forgets what she’s doing and she grabs your hair again and starts over), and also the way she puts words together. I’m grateful for my husband, who is my very favorite person, tied with Katie. I’m grateful for having enough money this year that we can buy some Christmas gifts without freaking about it. I’m grateful you mentioned Aimee Mann’s holiday album, because I will have to check it out, and also that you linked to the pumpkin cheesecake recipe, because I am SO going to make it! I’m grateful, still, on a near daily basis, that we didn’t die in our car crash in July. I’m grateful for my parents, and Geoff’s parents, and our siblings. I’m grateful for my camera and my computer and for all of the internets, and for all of my beloved friends, and for Cosi’s signature salad with grapes and apples and pistachio nuts, because it is delicious. 

And then I thought, you know, those are some gratefuls worth remembering. So I posted them here, too.

And hey, I'd love to hear what you're grateful for, too, if you're willing to share.  Tell me.

4 years (November 16th)

4 years (November 16th)
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

We got married 4 years ago today. I remain as happy about that as ever. (The baby diamond earrings, barely seen, are an anniversary present.)

There wasn't much fanfare today.  I am preparing for an audit at work, and haven't even had time to go out and buy a card.  Geoff has choir practice tonight.  We saw each other for about a half an hour this morning, and for about 15 minutes this evening.  He'll be home in about an hour, and about an hour after that, I'll go to bed.  Tomorrow, though, Katie has a sleepover at Rebecca & Chris' house, and Geoff and I are going to dinner, and a movie, and afterwards back to the home we share. 

The other day Geoff was telling me something, I don't remember what.  I guess I must not have been paying enough attention, or I must not have responded with enough enthusiasm, because he started teasing me.  "Oh, excuse me," he said.  "I just thought you might like to know.  I was just trying to share with you.  You know, like we said we would do, almost four years ago, when we agreed to share our lives together.  I was just sharing with you."

I smiled at him and laughed.  "Thank you," I said.  "There is no one I would rather share my life with." 

We were in the car.  He smiled back at me.  "Right back atcha," he said.  "Me, neither."   And I kissed him.

There is something to be said for being extra thankful, at least once a year, for having made this choice, for recognizing that I would make this same choice again and again.  He is my very favorite person, and I am his, and we have been married for four years.  I see no end in sight. 

And every day I am thankful for this small (or maybe not so small) miracle, for the continued sharing of our lives, for sharing love and hopes, for being each other's family. 

Happy anniversary to us.

Tells a story (November 13th)

Geoff's mom is visiting us this week, and she doesn't want me to take her picture.  I think she will be sorry if she leaves without me taking a picture of her and Katie together, since the last time she saw Katie was last Christmas, and we don't yet know when she will see her next.  So I think in theory she wants the picture to be taken.  Or rather, she wants the picture to have been taken.  But she's not too excited about the present tense part of it. 

And really, I understand.  I don't like to have my picture taken, either, even though I love to take pictures of other people, and even though I don't mind taking my own picture.  I know how it is to feel tense and anxious about having somebody else take your picture, though.  You paste that anxious smile on your face, your teeth grinding together while you mutter, "Ok, take the picture now!"

It is easy to look at a bad picture of somebody else and realize that that's all it is - a bad picture.  It's not somehow "realer" than the person they see in the mirror every day or the person you see standing in front of you.  It's not proof that they really do look older or fatter or weirder or more awkward than the way they see themselves in their mind's eye.  If I see or take a bad picture of Trish, I would never think, "Aha!  So that is how she really looks!" 

And yet I've done that about pictures of me, many times.  Bad pictures of me have made me feel bad. 

There are also those good pictures, though, the ones that make you feel like you really do know who you are and how you appear to the world, the ones that make you feel confident, and maybe even pretty.  Sometimes, if enough time passes, the bad pictures miraculously turn into good ones.  You look at them and wonder why you ever thought that was a bad picture, why you were ever as critical of your body and your face as you must have been to have looked at this picture and judged the subject as ugly.  And of course if you never take a picture in the first place, you won't ever have any good ones. 

Anyway, so my plan is to take some pictures of Trish, who is one of my favorite people, and definitely my very favorite mother-in-law.  I hope to get some pictures that she thinks are good, but you know, we'll see.  Last year I took a picture of Trish and Katie.  Trish was pushing Katie in the swing.  They were both looking at the camera, and it was a nice picture, although not really a great one.  I printed it out and framed it and gave copies of it to both Trish and her father last Christmas.  Trish looked at it and thanked us, but she wasn't too enthusiastic.  I could tell she wasn't overly fond of the picture of herself.

Geoff's grandfather, though, opened the picture and smiled.  "Two little girls," he said, and got tears in his eyes.  And just like that, Trish got tears in her eyes, too. 

Fall (November 9th/10th)

Yellow (November 9th/10th)
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

So. Not this month, either.

And since this is how it is, I'll say that one good thing about this is that it means I can have a drink or three when I take a weekend trip to D.C. with a group of women friends at the end of November. The last time I saw the same group of women was back in 2003, when I was pregnant with Katie, and it was sort of a shame to be turning down the fruity martinis and amaretto sours and wine that I might otherwise have enjoyed.

And it's true that there are always days when it feels like this one child I have is all that I can handle with any kind of grace and humor. When I go to work, rush home from work, play with her, feed her dinner, go through the nearly hour-long bedtime routine (including bath, good night to the tv show du jour (this includes kissing the paused-on-Tivo faces of Pablo & Tyrone & Uniqua & Tasha & Austin or Miffy & her rabbit friends or Lenny & Mingming & Tuck), bedtime snack, books, Edelweiss, kisses & hugs). And then it is 8 or 8:30 and I feel myself slouch and relax. And is there time for another?

(We do what we must, when we want it enough.)

And anyway, there are still the holidays for "getting romantical."

And I appreciate the sentiment, but those of you who talk about timing, and how if Katie had been conceived with any other egg or any other sperm, then she would have been some other child, not my sweet Katie, well, you're right. But you're wrong to think that that has anything to do with what is happening now, or that knowing that the failure to conceive this month or the last (or the one before that, or the one before that) can be twisted into a good thing because of the fact that someday, in the future, if I DO have a second child, I will no doubt look back and be grateful that I had that particular child, and not be able to imagine my life without the experience of knowing that particular child. That is not a comfort.

You see, if I had had a child other than my Katie, I would not have missed her. If I had had some other child, I would have loved that child, if not the exact same way that I love Katie, then just as much.

And also, of course, there is no guarantee that there will be a second child at all. If it turns out that Katie is the only, well, then, I bet someday I will look back and see all of the blessings that I've found in being the parent of an only child. And yet that doesn't help me now.

And.  And.  And.

(I keep re-reading this, and I don't think it's written very well.  But I don't know how to write it any better.)

Geometry (November 8th)

Geometry (November 8th)
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

I have been trying to look at this photograph in a sort of abstract, detached way, as if it's not a photo of me in my bathroom. As if, in the photo, I'm not standing there with what could be called a goofy somewhat self-conscious smile on my face, with wet hair, with what I can't help but see as chubby forearms and an awkward grip on the camera.

I've been trying, instead, to look at it in a couple of different ways. I've been focusing on the shapes, which I think is one reason I like the picture. I like the rectangular mirror with the rectangular shelves (big rectangle on the outside, smaller rectangles on the inside) reflected in it. I like the square tiles below the rectangular mirror, the corner of the rectangular door reflected in the left side of the mirror, the rectangular camera reflected in the rectangular mirror. The rectangles make me appreciate the softer shapes, too. The edge of a hand towel on the left, hanging from a silver ring. A little bit of the circular capiz shells attached to the candle sconce in the upper right.

And me, of course. I have almost no sharp angles.

I'm not sure why I feel a sudden surge of emotion when I write that, but I think it has something to do with how much this lack of sharp angles (inner, outer) might say about me. I am not hard edges. I am not sharp angles.

It's not just me, though, is it? We humans, we are all pretty non-geometrical. We are all pretty soft. We are pretty resilient, in so many ways, but still. You know. Handle with care.

Oh, and I said I was trying to look at in a couple of different ways, didn't I? I am trying, also, to see it as I might see it twenty years from now. As a record of who I was then (who I am now). I am almost never nearly as critical of my past selves as I am of my present one.

"(E)ver(y) (D)ay of the (Y)ear" (November 7th)

"(E)ver(y) (D)ay of the (Y)ear" (November 7th)
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

I got there a little bit early, I thought, so I took a few pictures before I went in. It was a little bit before 9. It turned out that she was already there, at the bar, drinking wine and reading a magazine, looking pretty and happy. I don't have any idea when the last time was that I started my day before 5:47, got to work a little after 6:30, and still went out for drinks until after 11:30. I was tired, but it was good. The presentation went well - I felt prepared for it, and everyone seemed on an even keel - and once that was over, I felt so relaxed that I realized how much of my anxiety was related only to the presentation. A whole lot of it.

So I had a long but productive work day, and then I came home to my family. I talked to Geoff before he left, played with Katie and put her to bed after he left, and went to see Wendy when he returned.

I'm feeling much better.