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Carry On

Well, it’s August again.

It’s hot again. It’s sticky again. It’s sweaty again.

Kids are back in school. Papers upon papers were signed. Supplies upon supplies were purchased. Open houses were attended. Lunches have been assembled. Pre-teen and teen are begrudgingly putting one foot in front of the other, one early-morning alarm at a time.

New beginnings, fresh starts, clean slates. In the midst of the oppressive heat and humidity. Again.

Time to make the doughnuts.

“I got you, babe.”

Here we go. Again. Feeling rather meh. And why, pray tell, would anyone write a blog post about “meh?” Furthermore, why would anyone read it? Where’s the positive spin? Where’s the life lesson? What’s the point?

When I decided to blog my life, I mostly wanted to have a space to display my writing style for potential employers. And then I realized how much it helped me be a sane person. So I said a prayer to God and the universe that I would always try to stay true in my blog to be a positive force for good in the world. And this blog has blessed me. And it has blessed some readers and not blessed others…I’ve certainly heard both. Hey, you can’t please everyone, right? And I still work hard to stay true to blogging for what I know to be true and good, as best as I can.

But I’ve found that it’s getting harder. This life stage I’ve somehow found myself in is super strange.

I’m 46. Which means: 1. My body has changed in some unpleasant ways. 2. I’m witnessing precious marriages blow up left and right. 3. In two years, my oldest will leave home. Don’t even get me started.  4. My youngest is buying makeup. 5. My parents are getting older. 5. I don’t know what music to listen to anymore. 6. Am I allowed to dance in public anymore? 7. Routinely flogging myself for watching horrible tv that mature adults shouldn’t watch. 8. My celebrity crush is now Stephen Colbert.

And all of being 46 plus the worst political times of my lifetime and during the most appalling, least human, worst gut punch of a presidency and administration. Where only some people’s rights matter. Every day the news is horrific and frightening.

So TBH- this is where I am. To use an Oprah line and twist it to take it to a new low: I am not living my best life.

I’m not. Wow. How’s that for a depressing line? Before all 46-year-olds blow our collective brains out, let me also say something that I believe in my heart, that I know is bold, as well as a challenge and a middle finger to the universe: I know it’s going to get better.

My mother used to say that to me when I was down about something. It sounds trite but it’s something that I’m touching down on a lot right now. I thank her for gifting me those simple but necessary words. Because you know what? She’s always been right.

The other line I’m touching down on a lot these days is that British line- that “carry on” thing they do. Like, yeah, life sucks, so what, just freaking carry on, ok? Is it weird that I find that comforting? Maybe, but I do. Carry on- go be an adult. Just put your head down or your chin the hell up and carry on. Shit happens to everybody and everybody has to be 46 (except those that don’t and I definitely don’t want to be them, lol). And other countries have appalling, shitty Presidents and even worse conditions. And maybe this is the American in me, but I read that British line with a twinge of “things will get better” at the end. That’s my interpretation, anyway, and it helps me.

I’m writing this, wondering if others are feeling the meh. For all I know, it’s just me and y’all all think I need to go check in to rehab for “exhaustion” like the celebs. Ain’t nobody got time for that. I’ve got kids to raise, a husband to nag :-), dinners to cook, jobs to find, family and friends to love, plants to water, blogs to write, horrible tv to watch, books to read, dogs to walk.

It’s ok. I’m not living my best Oprah life but I’m ok. I’m having to dig deeper but that’s ultimately what makes us stronger.

It will get better. Carry on, y’all.

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Carry On

by fun.

Well I woke up to the sound of silence the cars
Were cutting like knives in a fist fight
And I found you with a bottle of wine
Your head in the curtains and heart like the fourth of July

You swore and said we are not
We are not shining stars
This I know
I never said we are

Though I’ve never been through hell like that
I’ve closed enough windows to know you can never look back

If you’re lost and alone
Or you’re sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground
Carry on

Carry on, carry on

So I met up with some friends in the edge of the night
At a bar off seventy five
And we talked and talked about how our parents will die
All our neighbors and wives

But I like to think
I can cheat it all
To make up for the times, I’ve been cheated on
And it’s nice to know
When I was left for dead
I was found and now I don’t roam these streets
I am not the ghost you want of me

If you’re lost and alone or you’re sinking like a stone,
Carry on
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground and
Carry on

Woah my head is on fire
But my legs are fine
After all they are mine
Lay your clothes down on the floor
Close the door
Hold the phone
Show me how
No one’s ever gonna stop us now

‘Cause we are
We are shining stars
We are invincible
We are who we are
On our darkest day
When we’re miles away
So we’ll come, we will find our way home

If you’re lost and alone
Or you’re sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground and
Carry on

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am the lamest blogger ever, and other stuff

I really am the lamest blogger ever, and wanted to make that the title so I could just go ahead and get that out-of-the-way. I am also apparently the worst juggler ever, because I could not keep up with school, family, house and blog, all at the same time. I tried to prioritize, and this is pretty much how it all lined up:

1. Children. So back off, DFCS!

2. School. It’s like a job for me, and I’m paying for it, so it needs to be up there. And, I happen to love it.

3. Meals. Occasionally home cooked and sometimes, not just a sandwich or bowl of cereal.

4. Kids’ Laundry…so maybe I told my kids to smell some things first before wearing, but I mostly kept things cleaned and folded. If they didn’t put it away, then it’s still sitting there.

5. Husband. Sorry, honey, you know it’s sadly true but let me take the time now to say thanks for your continued, undeserved support! And also for going to see Bridesmaids with me.

6. Dog. Thankfully, she is low maintenance.

7. Fish. If they barked or whined for food, they’d be higher up.

8. My laundry. See #4.

9. The Rest of It. Either it got done somehow or maybe it didn’t, and if you feel you were in “the rest of it”, I’m sorry. The blog definitely fits in here and obviously, didn’t get done. I even got some local publicity for it a few months ago, and still haven’t kept up with it for my tens of fans. Very typical of me. Again, tens of fans, I’m sorry to have neglected you.

So with that said, today’s topic is “Yellowdaisychick’s Favorite Things.” Yes, like Oprah’s, but much less exciting and, much less free. If only I could send out baskets of my favorite things to blog readers, I would. I so would. When I win the lottery, not if but when, I will gleefully do that.

Yellowdaisychick’s Favorite Things As Of May 2011: (in no particular order)

1. Dr. Pepper. What would I do without you? My drug of choice. If anyone, and I mean anyone, tries to make you illegal, I will cut them.

2. Reese’s minis. Brilliant idea, but really, shouldn’t we do the work of opening the little wrappers? It seems too easy to just pop them in my mouth, but if it’s wrong, I don’t want to be right.

3. Veggie Patch tomatoes and cantaloupe. If you don’t live in Newnan, you’re missing out. Their tomatoes are the real thing and taste like summer to me. The cantaloupe is seriously the sweetest, most delicious cantaloupe you will ever have.  Also, I felt like I should put something healthy after those first 2.

4. Veggie Patch local, free-range eggs. I had to put these separately, to highlight that the Patch is really getting into the local thing. They have a lot of Georgia produce, and now they have eggs from down the street. Very cool.

5. Toenail Art. For just $3, I can get fun toenail art at USA Nails by Target. With the measly $5 it costs for a polish change, that makes $8 to get my toenails done. It lasts for several weeks, too.

6. Pomegranate Martinis. I don’t care if this isn’t the latest and greatest martini craze. They are damn good, with pomegranate vodka and they are tangy and not too sweet. They are a bit steep in price, but as long as you don’t drink too many, it is worth every penny. I very much enjoy the ones at the Alamo downtown.

7. Yes to Cucumbers and Green Tea Shower Gel. Smells good. Leaves skin soft. Good for sensitive skin. Get it at Publix.

8. Paul Simon’s So Beautiful or So What album. My fave song is “Getting Ready for Christmas Day” and was inspired by an Atlanta preacher’s sermon from 1941.

In Paul’s words: http://youtu.be/saAkVT_n2Mo

What are some of your favorite things? Leave a comment so I can check it out.

Summer Writing Challenge:

I’m trying to keep myself writing over the summer, and I’ve decided that I want to try some fiction. It will be like a summer soap opera, with a new chapter every 2 weeks. We’ll see how it goes, and I’d love to hear your feedback. What do you like, what doesn’t work, what would you like to see. Anything constructive would be much appreciated!

Take care,

Katie

Summer Soap Opera Series:

I. Ginny

It was her day off. Ginny was sitting on her couch, working on recipe development. She had just finished typing up the pork tenderloin with wine basil gelee, a dish inspired by her grandfather’s favorite meal: a pork chop sandwich and jello. She loved spending time in her condo, although her free time was rare. Her condo was a loft in the city, right off I-85. It was close to the restaurant where she worked in Virginia Highlands, and from her couch, she could feel the pulse of downtown. From her window, she could see the skyline and at night, it was alive and gorgeous. She had saved up for years until she finally could buy the place.

She had put in these cool concrete floors and walls, and an enormous, huge, flat screen tv. Her coffee table had a remote control fireplace in it. It was very HGTV. She had hosted a party recently in their rooftop “clubhouse”: a three-sided balcony with a stellar view of the city and a wall that could turn into a rock fireplace. She always worried that it might burn a drunken guest, but it looked cool. There was a Jacuzzi with a waterfall, where they ended up naked in the early hours of the morning. She had hired 2 DJ’s, a band, and had both a vodka and beer sponsor. Dallas Austin had shown up with a friend of hers. She worked hard and she played even harder.

She looked at the clock: how was it already 4:00? She reluctantly put her laptop down to make the obligatory Sunday night phone call. She was dreading telling her mom the big news, but she hadn’t called in a couple of weeks. Ginny just wanted to get it over with. She picked up the phone.

“Hey Mom, it’s me.”

“Darling! Why haven’t you called your mother?  Those text messages are not enough for me. I need more than a handful of poorly spelled words. I felt sure something was wrong.  Is something wrong?  Are you sick?  Are you in rehab? I miss you so much!” Her mother never took a breath.

“Mom, I’m fine.  How are you and Daddy?”

“Well, besides worrying over you girls, I’m fine.  Had to take your grandmother to the doctor; she’ll live to be 100.  I had lunch with Martha and Karen yesterday.  Did you hear about Jed?  He’s moving back home with his wife and 3 kids.  Foreclosure.  Karen’s a trooper, though.  And Daddy, well, he’s working too hard, as always. I told him, I begged him, he has to slow down. Oh, sweetie, I miss you so much. I need to see you and hug you. When are you coming to see us?”

“Soon, Mom. Listen, I have some news.” Ginny had to stop her in mid-mind dump. “Things have been going really well and I wanted you guys to know that I’m in talks to buy a restaurant with some people,” she said and then held her breath.

“Oh. Well.”

Pause.

“Isn’t that great news, Mom?”

She was pretty sure that crickets started chirping before her mother recovered.

“Sure. Right. It’s great news, honey, I know you’re excited. But are you sure you’ve thought this through?  A restaurant is a huge operation; you’ll be working all the time. When will you have time for your family? And when will you ever have time to meet a nice man?” her mother asked.

“Well, actually, I have put a lot of thought into it, and I’ll have a manager so that I won’t work 24/7.”

“Aren’t you worried about the loan?  You do have to pay it back, you know.”

“I know.”

“Well, I hope you don’t think that Daddy and I are going to bail you out.  We’re not ATMs.  You have to have some responsibility for your decisions, no matter how risky they may be.”

“I know.”

“Darling, are you sure you’re not a lesbian?”

“Mom!”

“I told Martha and Karen that I would love you anyway.  Although it would be hard on us at church, and your grandfather would turn over in his grave. But I love you no matter what.”

“Christ, Mom, really, like I’ve told you a million times, I am straight.  I love penises!  Actually, the plural of penises is penes, did you know that?  I love penes!”

“Virginia Faith Lowell!  Sweet Jesus, where did you learn that language! You need to go to church. Ginny, I just don’t know what has happened to you,” she sighed. “And now a restaurant. Ginny, I just don’t think you are being realistic. What if it doesn’t work out? You can’t just quit, you’re the boss and the owner. I mean, you can, but then you’ll be bankrupt and, oh dear God in heaven, what if you get sick or something and can’t work?  What if someone gets salmonella poisoning? Ginny, it’s just too risky………Ginny? Ginny? Did you hang up on me?”

She mercifully pressed End and put the phone in its cradle.  She sat on her Ikea kitchen stool, staring at the basket with limes, lemons, papaya, and a pineapple.  Sour and sweet.  Might make a smoothie or a fruit salad for dinner.

She was suddenly exhausted.  Just like I figured.  Nothing new at home.  Same old bullshit, different day.  

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