In Memory of a Dead Tree

It’s done. We’ve taken down the tree.  This is not because Husband and I are giant Scrooges - so totally sick of Christmas that we couldn’t stand the sight of it for another second – it’s because it was dead.

Well, we made all kinds of mistakes with the tree. We didn’t have the man at the tree lot cut off a bit of the trunk. We added sugar to the water and, when the water went stagnant and vomit smelling and we had to siphon it out with a turkey baster, we added Clorox to the new water solution. Maybe that last part wasn’t so bad – I googled that solution and all accounts make it sound like a real thing you can do to a tree – but the first two lead to a crispy, hard, pieces-falling-off thing by Christmas Eve. We left it up until the day after, just to keep in the holiday spirit, but it was pretty pathetic looking by the time we snipped of every branch and took the bags to the curb.

So Christmas is over. It was a weird kind of long/short this year. Short in that I didn’t feel like there were enough weekends to celebrate and wished I could have jammed in a couple more holiday related activities, but long in that we had started listening to Christmas music BEFORE THANKSGIVING. It’s hard to want to sing along with White Christmas when you’ve heard it approximately nine hundred thousand times. Radio stations please learn: there is a finite amount of Christmas music. It gets worn out fast.

I can’t believe it’s already the New Year. It’s 2012, the end of the world year and all that. There are a lot of people out there starting to make resolutions and such. I don’t like to do those; I always break them. But I do have a to-do list a mile long and losing weight is on that list. In fact, it’s likely that Husband and I will be a part of the New Year’s Resolution gym crowd. I have twenty-five extra pounds hanging around like those damn Christmas cookies at the office and I would like to lose at least twenty of them.  Other things on my to-do list:

• Get a new pair of glasses. I am growing blinder by the day.

• Go to an allergist to confirm what exactly is making my whole body itch in that skin crawling, uncontrollable kind of way. I suspect peanuts but I would like to be sure.

• See a chiropractor about my fucked up back. Since we bought the new bed it’s been a million times better, but I am still ruined for standing for long periods of time. That is a silly thing for a person who is not yet thirty.

• Start paying off my credit card debt. This is contingent on when Husband gets a job, of course.

• Finish the first draft of my book and start getting feedback (and cleaning it up so it can be all pretty for the agents). I had a full head of steam back in November when I was doing the whole Novel Writing Month thing and then the holidays happened and guests arrived and parties were had and I’ll be damned if I squeezed in more than 2,000 words.  I really do foresee finishing and publishing this book, I just have to keep the motivation behind it. Perhaps I should have a January edition of National Novel Writing Month? Possibly.

There are a ton of little things on my life’s to-do list that I would love to get time for this year such as volunteering at a local stable so I can learn how to ride horses, picking up guitar again (and actually learning how to play it this time), selling some of my odd pieces of photography, learning how to better use my digital camera and getting back into sketching. I come up with new things every single day that I wish I had the combination of time and money for - which is precisely the reason I don’t keep resolutions very well.  There is always a distinct possibility that I am going to come up with something new tomorrow that will take a bigger priority in my life. While I am fully aware that this is not how goal setting works, this is just how I roll.

According to Husband, during my day here at work our living room has been completely cleaned and disinfected from Christmas. (He even dusted - I have to keep him!) It is officially over, and we can move onto the next, better part of the holidays: the end.  Maybe next year we’ll be able to keep the tree alive through New Years. How’s that for a resolution?!

Guest Blog From The Land Down Under

Earlier this week I was over on her blog, and today she is here on mine! See? Blog swap. I told you it would happen.

I can’t remember who started reading whose blog first, but suffice it to say that we were fast internet-friends. I love following her adventures in Australia, her fun gluten free recipes and her blatant pimping of the Timtam. Also? Like me she is recently married to a lovely ‘foreigner’, living the life of a newlywed like a pro! Without further ado…

Look, I want to share a secret with all you Evolving Revolvers out there. But you have to promise that this isn’t going to get back to me at my blog ok?

Promise?

The reason why it’s a secret is because I’m still embarrassed about it and I’d be absolutely mortified if my in laws found out about this.  So seriously, pinky swear?

Here’s the deal.  When I met my husband, at 24, I was a virgin who knew two things a. I am a no baby zone b. Eggplant is gross.

To say that the sexual tension was palpable is probably an understatement.

So after we’d been dating for a bit over a month and a half, He took me home to meet his parents (oh my god, do you see where this is going? I promise I’m already blushing). And so, in his childhood bedroom I lost my virginity.

Gulp.

And yes, it does make me feel like a complete and total teenager to type that.

Afterwards, I was a bit flummoxed about what had happened, where it happened, how it happened?  I didn’t have any regrets (and I still don’t), but there were some things I needed make sure He knew, Like Right Then.

So, as we walked around the town he grew up in, the places he frolicked as a child, I told him that I knew it was early in our relationship, but that I didn’t want to have kids.  I just blurted it out.  “So um. You know. I don’t want children” BAM.

Luckily, my incredibly smooth delivery didn’t seem to throw him, as he was like “Yeah? I’m not sure I want them either.”

And then I said, “Also, I always kind of imagined that the first guy I slept with would be the only guy I slept with. I mean, no pressure or anything.”

So kids, that’s how it’s done. That’s how you lose your virginity in your boyfriend’s parent’s house, tell your new boyfriend you don’t want kids, and basically propose.

It’s a miracle we all survived that weekend, don’t you think?

New Project and a Merry Christmas

I am officially on break for Christmas. A little Friday here and a little Monday there and it almost feels like a vacation. Even though there has been more eating than work this past week, just knowing I don't have to get up early to go for a couple of days is much appreciated.

At the M house (Husband and I are the M's) we have started a new tradition: an ornament every year to depict the special or important thing that happened in the twelve months before Christmas. I am fully aware that this could become increasingly difficult as the years progress and will probably be somehow morphed into an entirely different tradition, but I like the idea in theory. We started this year.

Another idea I am toying around with is a project in the same vein of Metro Boulot Dodo. So far it also includes a lot of photos of the airport. It has that excellent cold florescent light that I love so much.

The good news is that in America the right to take photos of people in public is much more acceptable than in France where what I was doing may or may have not been legal. The limiting factor is, naturally, that I only have one airport to hang out in for the moment. We'll see where it goes.

Now, onto bigger and better things. Like stuffing my brain with anything and everything that looks, sounds or tastes like Christmas. Oh won't you join me?

Check Me Out!

Today you can find me over at Decoybetty, where I am guest blogging. In case you haven't caught on, we did a post exchange. Look out for her post HERE later this week!

It Was, In Fact, Better

The clusterfuck of last Thursday finally ended and I awoke Friday morning refreshed. I got out of bed before the alarm clock and made it to work before my boss – a momentous occasion for me. No one walked in front of my car on the way in, traffic didn't suck, and the whole office drama from the day before seemed to have blown over.

The weekend started with the annual Christmas Party, hosted by my boss and his wife. They are both lovely people and everyone looks forward to spending an evening chex eux.  It was my first year attending and both Husband and I welcomed the merry making with open arms. The door prizes, the excellent wine, the foie gras and a huge helping of delectable boeuf bourguignon lightened our spirits considerably. It helped, of course, that the people I work with a generally lovely. A party with even the best food and drink known to man is nothing without its guests.

Which is why Saturday was an equally nice evening. Husband spent all day in the kitchen so that we could have a little Christmas dinner with the small group of friends we’ve made since moving to Philly. The food was a hit (I was so proud of Husband. He pretends that he can’t cook but he can make his way around the kitchen quite nicely when the wants to.) and the games were jolly. The cat even loosened up enough to come out to play towards the end of the night, as further proof of the good spiritedness that was filling up our little apartment.

Our Sunday was spent recovering, naturally. We slept and cleaned and did a little light shopping. All this more than made up for the way last week’s planetary convergence (or whatever the hell it was) threw up on me, despite the fact that I am now fighting off a little cold that wants to throw up on my Christmas. Oh, but I won’t let it! I can’t! Because my mom is flying in tomorrow and nothing will come between me and time with my mommy figure. (Except work, ahem.)

Tonight are more preparations and onward ho! with the holiday! I can hardly believe it’s almost Christmas. I am completely done shopping as of tonight and then all that’s left to do is make a tart and do some laundry and buy some groceries and eat a ton of food and go to a party and WAIT for Santa to come. Considering how good I’ve been this year, I think I might even get something besides coal in my stocking. 

**Stay tuned for more gratuitous Christmas photography and a guest post from Decoybetty! Consider this surge of content after months of nothing my Christmas gift to you! (You can thank me later.)**

Erg and Then Some

This morning I was literally falling through the cracks. My heels just kept getting stuck in every single nook and cranny the sidewalk had to offer. In addition to rightly ruining my high heels (who’ve seen better days to begin with, thank you very much) I really thought I was going to break my ankle or spill my coffee. I don’t know which would have been worse, but I laid bets on the coffee.

Even without the falling-into-cracks issue I should have known something was wrong with today. As I drove down Main Street toward the top of the hill to get my coffee there was surprisingly little vehicle traffic, but there were people walking into the street every ten feet as if they were on kamikaze missions. As if jumping  in front of my car wasn’t enough, they were hanging ass-out of their own cars with the doors wide open into the lane. I narrowly whizzed past each one, wondering what the hell was going on. It turns out I should have been more concerned.

The day started out with an argument between Husband and I, loosely based on the fact that I am fighting off a cold and backed by some kind of lunar convergence that wanted to piss on my parade. It was the first real fight we’ve had since I started my new medication. Funnily enough I had just been thinking “What happened to all the fighting? Was it really just me? Where did all that anger go? I don’t even have anything to talk to my therapist about.” Then BAM. There it was again, all fresh and new just like old times. In a way I was relieved, to know that I wasn’t turning into some kind of robot alien who didn’t ever feel anything but warm fuzzy thoughts (because how annoying are those people to hang around), but I also didn’t like being that close that particular feeling. Anger is such a scary emotion. Disappointed anger is some kind of other beast entirely. I did not want to stay there.

I was at work though, stuck in an awkward social situation. See, at work I tend to be the person who people go to when they want to vent. I have always been that person, which is what made me such a great barista and would make me a killer bartender. It's not everyone mind you, but those who like to do so in general smattered with the occasional confession, and this particular time it was two people whom I like equally who were not getting along. One would come to me venting angrily about the other and then they would swap. It was to the point where I felt awkward being around the both of them together knowing how they felt about each other. For me, the tension was palpable.

So last week at lunch I made a mistake. I put my foot in my mouth, mentioning this tension to their superior at our office outing. He did not react at all, he didn’t know about the situation and so I retracted it saying it’s none of my business, I shouldn’t have said anything, if said people have a real problem they will come to you and all manner of “forget this ever happened” that I could.

Apparently, however, it was not forgotten. I discovered this when one of the parties involved was giving me the stink eye and I called them out on it. It was here I learned that the rumor flying about was that he was going to lose his job over this. 

Our office is known for its rumors. I was certainly the subject of many of them. I try to keep myself out of it the best I can, which is likely not what I was doing opening my ears to everyone’s various issues with everyone else, though I certainly hadn't realized that. To make matters worse, this astonishing rumor was coupled with one to the effect that I had told their superior that they HATE each other. I had somehow become the rumor starter.

Naturally, I was upset. I hadn't told anyone that there was hate flying about and I certainly didn’t want anyone to lose their jobs. More events ensued here that I won’t detail due to the public nature of this blog, but the end result was the finger being pointed at me as the bad guy, getting thrown under the bus for wishing, out loud, that everyone could just get along. The air was cleared but I was the one who was blamed in entirety.

All before lunch.

I left to run an errand, feeling hurt that I had opened my ears and my heart to the problems of two people I care about at work, only to have them turn their backs on me when they found themselves confronted about their own issues. Though the situation is resolved and the rumors (which were INDEED just that) have been laid to rest that nobody is getting fired, I can’t help but feel let down. I am disappointed in human behavior, that there is no solidarity amongst any group of people. I am disappointed that what gets said trickles down a grade school style telephone wire and that nothing that comes from my mouth will ever be repeated with the care and intention that it originally had. And I was disappointed and angry that someone around me had enough time to waste that they felt it necessary to propagate such an evil rumor. Why?

Maybe I am naïve, but I have always believed that, given the chance, people could change and grow and learn from their mistakes. Today, though, I believe I should have just stayed in bed.

Tomorrow will be better, of course. As long as no one dies today, tomorrow will be better.

Be Your Best Self

On Sunday Decoybetty* wrote a post that, in summary, expressed how she often finds it hard for herself to just be happy, damnit for people in her life who seem to have been blessed by good luck. (It’s a bad summary of the post, admittedly, but if you want to read the original you should. For the purpose of this blog, however, we’re going to say that is what her post was about.)

It struck a chord with me and got me to thinking. I do that. I do that all the time. I make comparisons to other people’s lives and wish that mine were parallel or often times better than theirs. Why can’t I fill in the blank?? Why can’t I travel more, work for a major design label, have a family with money coming out their ears, go to Paris on a long weekend, have expensive dinners with famous people, join the expectant mom crowd, and the list goes on and on and on.

Of course as we all know I am not these people who have oodles of money, who get to travel all over the world, who get to take a jaunt to Paris for a weekend in the fall, or work for a glamorous company frequented by celebrities. I don’t get to have dinners with famous people and, frankly, I don’t even want to be a part of the expectant mom crowd. So why am I so jealous of them?

Ultimately the question is left unanswered in my head. It's any number of combinations of 'low self-esteem', 'grass is always greener', 'I'm the ninety-nine percent' and 'marxist-lenin complex'. I have all of that going on and then some. I am doing just fine but I want more. I am greedy, lusting for the things that always earmarked the 'in' crowd in my life, a group of whom I was always a vulture just on the outside, eager to pick up the left overs from the days kill. I want, therefore I am.

I want to stop.

I want to stop comparing myself to everyone else in my life - my sister, my mother, my friends, my co-workers. I want to stop trying to be who they are and be a little more of what I am.

I am not perfect, though. I am a clinically depressed woman with a mood disorder, twenty-five pounds "overweight" (or at least over my desired weight), with a foul mouth, a sale charactre (shitty attitude) as Husband puts it, and a severe lack of personal motivation. Most people, on meeting me, would not describe me as such. Au contraire. But this is not at all about how other people see me: it's about how I see myself.

After a work week particularly full of fuck-ups and minor mistakes that added up to annoyances for higher ups, I taped this phrase to my computer monitor: Be Your Best Self. I asked myself "Am I being my best self? My best, hardest working employee?" and was disappointed to find the answer was no. I realized that, no matter how many vacations I could take, no matter how many Marc Jacob hand bags I could buy, no matter how many babies I could shove out of my loins (if that was something I decided I wanted), I would never be happy with giving less than my best, work or otherwise.

I wasn't happy being depressed. I wasn't happy punching walls and curling up into a ball on the bathroom floor. I am not happy with my weight and I am not happy with my shitty attitude. I want to be more than what I am. If that never adds up to a coastal home in the south of France or a trip around the world, I don't care. If I am not the best person I expect myself to be I will never be happy.

Will that end the jealousy? That's another question unanswered. Probably no. I am human, with human desires and human faults. But as long as I am my best self, a little jealousy never hurt anyone.

Boo is always his best self, regardless of his crazy parents.

* look for a guest post from her soon!

Got Yer Holiday Cheer Here

I finished my Christmas shopping this week - save one tiny thing for Husband - and suffice it to say I am now completely full of the holiday spirit. In addition to being full of spirit, Husband and I are now full of caffeine. This is because we got a little Christmas present for ourselves (for making it through the so difficult fall, and for being good little kiddos): a new espresso machine.



 Isn't she beautiful? And she makes lovely espresso too. What is not shown in this photo is that, due to space and electrical outlet issues, this little baby is sitting next to our T.V.. "Just like in the hotel rooms," as Sister L likes to point out. We're not sure where it's going to go when we replace said T.V. which is currently on the fritz. Details, details.

Our neighbors also have the holiday spirit, as you can see. The have these inflatable things for every single holiday. No joke.

And more than any of us, Boo Radley has the holiday spirit. Not because he knows what's going on, but because he has such a fond love of eating the tree and knocking down the shatter proof balls hung with care. Actually, I think he doesn't give a shit about Christmas, but damn he looks good posing in front of the tree.

Am I right or am I right?? Possible one of the most photogenic cats ever. Then, I am biased.

Oh, and are we sick of Christmas music yet? No, not a single one of us. Take that Scrooge McDuck!!

Recovering

As it turns out, there is a pill for all that ails you.

Three weeks ago I got a new psychiatrist. It was sometime after nearly checking into the hospital to get the help I needed and before the in-laws came. He said what I didn’t want to hear: I have a mood disorder. I’m not bipolar, he says, but I definitely have some kind of mood disorder. He did not seem concerned about diagnosing it further.

Hurry, he said, Let’s get you on some mood stabilizer before you break into something irreparable.

He didn’t actually say that, but he did understand my desperation. He understood, with an appropriate sense of urgency, that I was ill and I needed help. The blood pressure medicine I had been put on before did nothing but lower my blood pressure. It was time to stop messing around and make this thing go away.

And just like that I was one of those people that have to take “big drugs”. I cried when he told me that it would probably make me gain weight, and because I didn’t want to be considered more fucked up than I already am. I did want to be happy, though. So down the gullet it went.

The pills are iridescent – sort of a pearly white. I wonder if it is an effect of the combine chemicals that compose it or if it is something the makers did to make it more appealing. Like candy. Candy that alters your brain’s delicate balance.

 The first week they made me exhausted.  I couldn’t open my eyes and I didn’t want to. I could have stayed in bed that whole week, but I didn’t. I plowed through to work and at home like nothing had changed. I felt out of my own body. Nobody noticed things were changing. Externally I had never been abnormal.

At the end of the week I had a crying jag. It was a strange thing. I wanted to scream, and I had the same old thoughts of stabbing my wrists angrily with something sharp to displace the pain but the rage never came. I cried, but the thoughts were empty and alone, shoved off in the corner where I could not access them. I upped my dosage of lexapro from 10mg to 20 so that the crying fits wouldn’t happen while Husband’s parents were in our apartment and I plugged on.

Every day was basically the same except for that I didn’t hate myself and I didn’t hate my life. When Husband said stupid, husband-type things – the kind of things that would normally trigger me – I found I could respond calmly. Like an adult. Like a normal person.

Slowly, Husband became less fearful of me. He became more affectionate and happier to see me at the end of the day. We began to talk to each other again. Slowly, we reconnected.

For the first time since we’ve been married – for the first time in over a year – I feel like I am in control of my emotions again. I feel like I have a husband and I am happy to be his wife.  The screaming has stopped. The tears are abated by discussion. I am me again.

Last night we laid in bed talking about an issue that still needs resolving. The magic pills don’t make all the problems go away, unfortunately. We talked. I got frustrated, but we continued to talk. I did not want to scream or jump out of bed or punch a wall. I just laid there and listened to his side. He listened to my side. We still don’t see eye to eye, but it was not the end of the world.

In the morning, before I woke, I dreamt that I went back to Austin to visit. I cried as I drove through the streets. “I missed it so much!” I exclaimed. And then we found that the path to my old apartment was flooded. There was no way to cross and we were stranded. My cell phone didn’t work. I stared out into the darkness but I did not let us stop moving. On a hill I found an old cell phone. It was in another language but after several failed attempts to text someone ‘Help’ I dialed 911. They arrived shortly thereafter, lights blazing up the night with red and blue. They drove us to safety, off to dry land.

Which is where I am now: safe, on dry land. I knew all along that I could keep myself from drowning. I kept kicking at the heavy, cold waters until I found the shore. I did this. Husband stood by me through it all, but I did this. I am happy to be home again.

In Lieu of Real News

I bring to you more Christmas photos. I promised there would be more and I wasn't lying. Husband and I are really in the spirit of the holiday this year, so I might as well just go on and spread the joy. There is a lot of Christmas music happening. So far, this is a good thing.

We made it to Target a little late as far as ornament buying was concerned. Apparently the week after Thanksgiving is THE official week to buy Christmas decorations and there was a mad dash being made for the last of the shatterproof "glass" balls. This meant, for us, a limited selection of colors for our tree. 

Which is how we ended up with a pink star at the top. It's flashy and fun and doesn't go at all with the wreath we made. No, we don't have a theme. This only bothers me slightly.

The balls in the vases thing was solely the idea of Husband. I did balls in a dish, and he just had to one up me. It came out very festive looking.

So far we have not trapped Mr. Boo Radley on camera with all this Christmas, but rest assured that when we do it will be shared with you, dear internets. Suffice it to say tree is his new favorite toy.

Non-Christmas related updates coming soon.