Star Searching

I take horoscopes as one step up from a fortune cookie. I don't think the message inside that little, processed, mass-produced origami wafer is ever destined for me and me alone (even if I did always want to learn how to say "umbrella" in Mandarin). However, I can always find some truth, some applicability, in the piece of wisdom inside my cookie. And, if it's an intriguing fortune, I usually keep the idea on my subconscious radar, and in turn may be more apt to notice something that would have otherwise passed me by. Like I've been given a little tip from fate, I will consequently walk with ears pricked for the "good news that will soon come," or eyes seeking the "chance encounter with an old friend."

Anyhow, considering that fortunes are all of about a sentence, horoscopes lend a little extra insight. I know that everyone has a 1 in 12 chance of getting the same lowdown as me... but why is it that we often relate most to our assigned predictions? Nine times out of ten, my horoscope is more appropriate for me than any of the other months. Maybe I just want it to be. Maybe it's just another way to make sense of all the ridiculousness- or maybe it adds to it. Maybe it's a security blanket to hold onto; facing the future like it's a monster-concealing closet. Whatever it is, a good one gives me hope.

The traits of my astrological sign are right on. http://www.astrologycom.com/pisces.html It does make me consider that, somehow, the time of year I was born has a strong influence on who I am. While I'm always skeptical of these notions, the romantic side of me loves the idea that the stars have their way with me, decide who I'm compatible with, and what the future holds in store.

I ran across this year-at-a-glance horoscope today. I intend to put the positive points into my subconscious, and with any luck, I'll bump into one of several opportunities on the horizon.
http://shine.yahoo.com/page/2010-horoscope

Flight

High time I clip my proverbial wings
and assume responsibility,
but the apple juice that trickles from my lips
signifies my immaturity.
And while I've learned to harbor the actions,
I'm struggling with thought.
As if the snake that winds around my tree
has trapped me in a knot.
Leaving me bound, in perfect irony,
for I have a choice to make,
yet neither option presents itself
as a risk I'm willing to take.
And so, there's a comfort in helplessness-
my excuse for standing still.
The wings, though folded, remain unscathed
and probably always will.

E.T. text home.

I want to know how, and when exactly, we decided it was okay -in the middle of a conversation- to pick up a tiny little square electronic device and turn our attention to it. Be it a razor, a blackberry, an i-whatever... I just can't stand how perfectly rude and perfectly acceptable it's become to momentarily disengage from human interaction just in case the message in one's hand is more interesting. Because even if it pales in comparison to a person's present moment, he or she undoubtedly still diverts focus just long enough to check what's going on elsewhere.

Now, I really don't mind mobile phones when used for their intended purpose. It's the texting that really... saddens me. Sure, a text is a super handy way to say "meet me at 6," versus going through the whole how-are-you routine when that's the main purpose of meeting at 6. But then I meet you at 6, and as I tell you how I am, you half-heartedly listen while typing to god-knows-who about god-knows-what on your itty bitty keyboard. The irony is that if you were with god-knows-who, I'd probably know more about what was going on in your life, because you'd be ignoring god-knows-who as you texted me.

I'm not saying it's wrong, I'm not shaming the cell-savvy, and I'm not even saying I don't do it, too. But I will testify that I'm someone who dissects human behavior. I try not to judge it, and when I do pass judgement, it's only after I've attempted to assess that which I judge from every angle. More commonly, I observe, I consider, I observe some more, and then marvel. Even the most atrociously boring person is fascinating to me if I'm given the opportunity to observe from a short distance. (Just don't make me talk to them.)

I'm a little off-course: the story of my life. But I think what I'm aiming for is that my as-of-late observations on human interaction are so depressing. I really am pretty shy when it comes down to it, so figuratively hiding behind a phone does indeed sound... comforting. But then, not so comforting is the thought that I -that WE- are creatures of habit, and we like our comforts. We're not going to come out of hiding; we'll only burrow deeper into ourselves and our need to look occupied.

I started out pissed at the way technology has spiraled our face-to-face social skills into the sewer. But really, I'm just frightened of the world my daughter is going to grow up in. I'm weirded out by the teenagers I saw out to breakfast; 4 out of 5 phones going at all times. All I can picture is WALL-E.

I could vent for a good while longer, but I can only take so much computer.

(P.S. Don't laugh, but the whole reason I went on this rant is because I just ordered a new phone.)

Rain

The best thing about a rainy night is that no one bothers to go out in it. While I have to psych myself up for the wet ground's tendency to latch on and creep up my pant legs, or for the smell of damp dog fur that will undoubtedly follow me back inside... I honestly love the privacy of a walk in the rain after dark. It's relaxing, and kinda romantic to be alone under an umbrella without a visible horizon to separate the pavement from the sky.

But I do agree with the Carpenters: Rainy days and Mondays always get me down. Okay, not always, but today at least. It was one of those days I would have liked to have had a remote with 3 buttons on it. Rewind, Skip, and Delete. Would've pushed 'em all day long. The rain was almost ridiculously cliche, and I listened to Radiohead on repeat in honor of the circumstances.
As my friend Coyote once said -as we slogged through our tenth straight day of rain hiking through the Tennessee woods- sometimes you just have to "embrace the suck."

Tonight, I embraced it as best I could. Hopefully, it worked.

25 Random Things (and one random picture)

A good writing exercise... and a challenge to even come up with 25 honest and interesting things about myself. I always feel pressure with this stuff- so we'll see how I do. ;)

(Rules: Once you have been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. Also, tag the person who sent it to you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you or you wrote 25 things about you already. If I didn't tag you, write anyway!!)

1) The house I grew up in was built in the 1800's, and we still use the original key to get in the front door. It's longer than my index finger, and I used to live in fear that I would lose it- there was no copy.

2) I used to wish on stars at night for a baby sister. I hated being an only child, and for this reason, I want to have another kid.

3) I also used to wish for a best friend. This wish came true in first grade: A girl with the same name and the same lunch box showed up to my classroom in the middle of the school year. (Made me a believer in a higher power for quite some time.) We were absolutely inseparable -even our cabbage patches were best friends- until she moved away at the end of the summer just before 4th grade. The day she came to say good bye before riding off in that minivan still ranks up there as one of the worst days of my life.

4) (Since I'm stuck on the topic of childhood...) As an only child I was forced into fostering my creative imagination. I discovered a giant boulder in the woods that looked like it was smiling. I named the rock "Hibble," and deemed her grandmother of the rock planet. I developed a rock language (a character map and the pronunciation) and wrote secret messages to Hibble in a locked spiral bound notebook while sitting atop her "head." Odd kid, I know! To this day, I love the personification of inanimate objects... in a less serious way, of course.

5) If you know me well, you know that I wrote my 7th grade research paper on the life of Neil Diamond. I didn't get to see him live until this past summer... and it was worth the 17 year wait.

6) I can remember some of the dreams I had when I was 3 years old.

7) I am great with names, but can't recognize faces to save my life, unless someone's appearance is exactly the same as it was the last time I saw them. I often think a stranger is someone I know, or fail to recognize someone I should know, even if they start talking to me.

8) I honestly think I have a disorder when it comes to my sense of direction. I am fine with north and south, OR east and west, but I can't use them in conjunction. I memorize my routes based on visual landmarks, and am too stubborn to depend on a GPS.

9) I did love living in Boulder, CO, because the mountains always let me know exactly where I was. I had no problem navigating the Rockies region. Yet I do look at that move as one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made. I went out there to fill a promise to someone else, but I didn't listen to myself. I learned a lot from my time there, and it lead me to where I am now... but overall, what a stupid move.

10) I probably don't give things enough of a chance, but still I've never regretted a snap decision when my gut was polled. My gut is surefire. It's the decisions that I hem and haw over that get me into trouble.

11) I wish I'd gone to college for something other than art.

12) I have an extremely high tolerance for pain. I didn't cry when I broke my wrist or during natural childbirth... and I'd be really proud of that, but I think it's simply an inherent trait. My 'rents are rugged.

13) Even though I'm super healthy most of the time when it comes to food choices, a trip to the beach is not complete without a bag of nacho cheese doritos and a few captain 'n' cokes with lime. Something about laying lazily in the sand makes me want junk food.

14) Pre-Patrick, I have about ten journals that I've filled. Post-Patrick, I have about ten that I've started and dropped. My single self was the best muse I ever had, which is funny considering that my single self was constantly seeking a muse.

15) I miss the satisfaction of being pursued by the opposite sex. I've been "taken" for 9 years, and often wonder how my 20's would have played out had I been available a while longer. I wouldn't want things to have turned out any differently... I just wonder what "differently" would have been.

16) I'm not very organized but because I desperately want to be, I'm very anal about my house, my car, my desk at work... clutter is very hard for me to cope with... especially if it's someone else's, because then there's nothing I can do about it.

17) Unloading a full dishwasher (when I know where everything goes) puts me in a meditative state.

18) I usually evaluate the ratio of exclamation points to periods when I write an email. I use exclamations too frequently, so I have to limit myself. Since my emails are also often sarcastic, the infamous sideways smiley also must be kept in check. There's almost always at least one, but there shouldn't be more than two, tops.

19) My dad and I had 2 horses in my mid-teens. As much as I love the thrill of fast trail rides and the awe of big animals, I've never felt like a real "horse person."

20) I'm incredibly social, but only when provoked. Yet, Patrick constantly provokes, and is responsible for 80% of the plans we make.

21) A good cup of coffee and good company is my idea of a perfect afternoon. Patrick and I have judged every town line we've ever crossed by whether or not it has a good coffee shop.

22) If we hadn't conceived a child by 2009, we were going to vacation in Italy. Zinnia was created last March, and thus we happily settled for Maine.

23) They say that thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail with a significant other is worth 25 years of marriage, and by my experience, I completely agree.

24) The day I actually got married I was only nervous about one thing. The weather. My dream wedding consisted of very little criteria, but the sun was a major expectation of mine. It showed up about 10 minutes into the ceremony, and I still remember how perfect that warm glow made me feel.

25) Whether it be in 5 years or 25 years, I am confident that we will one day move back to Vermont.

Endeavors on the table.

I'm settling into my routine with Baby Zin. She's still fickle, as a newborn should be, but the one-on-one time is really helping me to "read" her. Her favorite thing to do is fall asleep on my shoulder, face down... so I'm pretty much limited to sitting on the couch, or the rocker, or engaging in one handed activities if I want to stand. I don't like to sit still, so this is hard! Thank god we got this laptop. At first, I wasn't sure how important it was to be mobile with the computer- now I can see it's the best decision we could have made!

Surfing Facebook and checking my email got really old after a few days of being home-bound with the little spud. So... I decided to play around with an idea I've had for quite some time. See, my friend is getting married, and being maid-of-honor (refuse to call myself a matron!) gives me the opportunity to help with some of the plans. This may be considered a burden to some, but I LOVE planning, or at least I love the crafty elements that go along with a wedding. Both the brainstorming and execution phases; I love it. So much so, that I actually (almost) applied to be a bridal consultant back when I was searching for a new job. Then, I came to the conclusion that unless I could choose who I was going to consult, I would likely strangle myself with a garter belt. Brides can be evil- especially to people like bridal consultants, who are prime candidates for punching bags should something, anything go sour in their eyes. Anyhow...

I found myself overly enthusiastic about helping my friend make her invitations. She already had a plan and a design, so like a good girl I didn't "take over." Anyone who has been a bride is aware that everyone else's opinions are a threat to her own personal vision. (And, okay, yeah, I still made some suggestions... but nothing that altered the aesthetics of the thing). Instead, I went to the craft store, grabbed some paper, and played around with my own independent project. Then, I did a little research online (a.k.a. I scoured the internet) for what other people were offering in the way of handmade invitations, mainly to see if what I created could be lucrative in any way. The answer? I think I can find a way to make it worth my while, feed the little creative beast in me, and if nothing else, nurture a new hobby.

I've decided to keep it simple and stick with one design that can be executed in endless color combinations of solid paper with a patterned accent, or two solids. I'd like to do a "test run" to see how long it takes to make 50+ sets (invite and response card), and to see if my cost estimates are accurate. I need a chance to meet any potential kinks that I haven't anticipated, and to see if I can manage it with a baby in the mix. In exchange for the experience, the rights to creative license, and perhaps a testimonial, I'd give my guinea pig the full set of invitations at materials cost only- a great deal for someone who's looking to cut costs, but doesn't have any interest in the DIY approach. I would certainly cater to the couple's desired color scheme, and would welcome a basic wording structure, if they wanted to provide one.

So, if you know me, and you know someone who might be interested in such a trade-off, please connect us! I'm excited to get started and see where, if anywhere, it takes me. The event doesn't have to be a wedding per se, but it should be something involved enough to require at least 50 (give or take) invites, and it should merit response mailers. (I'm going to want to see the shape they're in when received back.)

Time for my 6 week postpartum check up. Funny that once the baby's out of ya, they don't need to see you for 6 whole weeks. If something was to go wrong between delivery and recovery, wouldn't I be about dead by now?

Hope

I'd hoped, and continue to hope. And I'm pretty confident, too. :)

Inaugural address.

Resurrection of... whatever this was.

I'm back - I think. That crazy little person to the left is the product of Operation Make-a-baby, thus I've been MIA in the blog world for quite some time. Any extra moments I could spend at the computer (over the course of my pregnancy) were devoted to an insufferable need to "research" what I was in for, a.k.a, what could I do ahead of time to make parenting easier. It was all about what was in my belly, not what was in my head.

Now that she, Zinnia Jane, as arrived, I'm ready to reclaim a little of myself. Sounds a bit backwards, as though now is the time to give up a little of myself. But I did that from the moment I knew she was in the womb. Now, as I get to know her, it's like getting to know the new me at the same time. The Mommy Me. I'm okay with the Mommy Me, but I think new moms can easily slip into a weird baby vortex. A vortex that consumes all independent thoughts and interests, leaving behind a shell of the woman she once was, stuffed with baby-focused cream filling.

Of course, how can you not be all but obsessed with living, breathing, mini look-alike that you and your partner made out of love? It's totally amazing, and cool, and indescribable. Still, I want to make a distinct effort not to get lost in the wonder of it all. Mostly because I've witnessed it from an outside perspective, and have always found it kind of annoying. Yet, from this side, a new baby means not much else is ABLE to happen in my life, thus she essentially becomes it.

To counter this, I've begun planning a small business venture. It’s very slow going given the circumstances, but still something other than Zinnia on which to focus some effort. Reading is fun again, and hopefully, writing will be, too. I think writing is that thing I constantly resolve to get back into… so often that I really can stop resolving and just know that it will always be something I pick back up when I can. And despite my aim to have a life outside of the baby, you can be sure she’ll provide me with plenty of material to document- which I WILL document.