That's my little J Monster! He's a bruiser!
Friday, January 11, 2013
Clutter
I try to keep the clutter in my house to a minimum. Two things defeat me: books and paperwork. I guess technically, that's only one thing. Paper. We'll say paper in two forms then. The problem is, and always has been really, a lack of proper office space in my home. As a military family moving homes every few years you aren't always guaranteed dedicated office space That's a fairly ridiculous statement, because plenty of people get by without home offices, but I'd assume that their paper is a disorganized mess as well. I have a file cabinet. It's in the closet of the upstairs guest room/craft room/storage room. I know. Why didn't I just make that an office? Well, I had, until I found myself pregnant a few months after moving into this house. #Firstworldproblems
The filing cabinet doesn't work, in the sense that you can't hang files in it. You can pile them in the file drawer, which is an inaccurate description because at this point, it's just a drawer, but that makes them hard to get to, which makes the likelihood of me or the Major digging through there to actually file things pretty slim. Thank you movers for losing the file hanging apparatus. You'd be amazed at the things the movers can lose. In addition to the file hanging thingy and the rolly ring the the glass plate sits on in the microwave, they also managed to lose one of my couch cushions. I think one of them took it home to use as a dog bed. Or maybe the really short semi driver who hauled our stuff need to prop it behind his back to reach the pedals and "forgot" to return it to the couch. I don't know, but I think it takes a certain kind of chutzpah to drop off a couch without a cushion and then question me about whether I had the packers ship it or not.
So, in the absence of a properly functioning filing cabinet, I end up with piles of papers of various levels of importance sorted around the house. Okay, the sorted part was obviously a joke, because why bother to sort if you know there's no way it's actually getting filed. The deferred maintenance of household organization is a dangerous path. I inevitably get fed up with looking at piles of paper everywhere. The truth is I hate the piles of paper. I hate the clutter. And I hate the proof they offer about the kind of woman I'm not. So, a couple of times a year I go on a mad cleaning spree, and I mean mad in the angry sense. I get frustrated with the Major for not doing his part to prevent the clutter. I get angry with myself for falling for the lure of later. I just get mad and start clearing out the clutter with a vengeance.
When the dust settles, I'm generally pretty pleased with myself. I've conquered the the clutter. I've proven I can be the woman with an organized life. (We're not talking about the non-file cabinet right now, so don't even think about bringing it up.) But then a few weeks go by,and I start looking for stuff. Like the sim card converter. Or the Kindle charging cord. Or the W-4s. They're nowhere to be found. They've gone the way of my high school class ring. My camera memory card. My social security card. Into the perfectly functioning circular filing bin, which is maintained by the Major, so it doesn't have a clutter problem. This happens with startling regularity. What are the chances that I have another personality that likes to mess with me by tossing stuff I'm going to need later? Let's go with that.
The filing cabinet doesn't work, in the sense that you can't hang files in it. You can pile them in the file drawer, which is an inaccurate description because at this point, it's just a drawer, but that makes them hard to get to, which makes the likelihood of me or the Major digging through there to actually file things pretty slim. Thank you movers for losing the file hanging apparatus. You'd be amazed at the things the movers can lose. In addition to the file hanging thingy and the rolly ring the the glass plate sits on in the microwave, they also managed to lose one of my couch cushions. I think one of them took it home to use as a dog bed. Or maybe the really short semi driver who hauled our stuff need to prop it behind his back to reach the pedals and "forgot" to return it to the couch. I don't know, but I think it takes a certain kind of chutzpah to drop off a couch without a cushion and then question me about whether I had the packers ship it or not.
So, in the absence of a properly functioning filing cabinet, I end up with piles of papers of various levels of importance sorted around the house. Okay, the sorted part was obviously a joke, because why bother to sort if you know there's no way it's actually getting filed. The deferred maintenance of household organization is a dangerous path. I inevitably get fed up with looking at piles of paper everywhere. The truth is I hate the piles of paper. I hate the clutter. And I hate the proof they offer about the kind of woman I'm not. So, a couple of times a year I go on a mad cleaning spree, and I mean mad in the angry sense. I get frustrated with the Major for not doing his part to prevent the clutter. I get angry with myself for falling for the lure of later. I just get mad and start clearing out the clutter with a vengeance.
When the dust settles, I'm generally pretty pleased with myself. I've conquered the the clutter. I've proven I can be the woman with an organized life. (We're not talking about the non-file cabinet right now, so don't even think about bringing it up.) But then a few weeks go by,and I start looking for stuff. Like the sim card converter. Or the Kindle charging cord. Or the W-4s. They're nowhere to be found. They've gone the way of my high school class ring. My camera memory card. My social security card. Into the perfectly functioning circular filing bin, which is maintained by the Major, so it doesn't have a clutter problem. This happens with startling regularity. What are the chances that I have another personality that likes to mess with me by tossing stuff I'm going to need later? Let's go with that.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Teams Suck!
I heard today that the new season of Project Runway is going to be all about the teams. Can you imagine going through all the hoops to get onto the show only to find out on the first day that you're going to be hooked up with some yahoo you just met for the duration? If it were me, I'd be mad, mad, mad. I'll be interested to see how they're formatting the new concept, but my expectations aren't very high. The team challenges of previous years were always the most painful to watch, so I'm doubting that a whole season of them will hold my attention. Okay, actually, I may be a little irritated myself that they are messing with one of my favorite shows. I mean, if it ain't broke....
Bang!s
I'm hoping to get away for a couple of hours this weekend for a hair cut. I cut my own bangs a couple months back. Predictably, I did a crappy job. They've looked terrible for all of this time, but I'm finally tired enough of their terribleness to feel motivated to do something about it. Also, I have a feeling that my polite friends and associates are going to start talking trash behind my back about the ridiculousness of the side swiping, standing at attention bangs any minute now. I would make fun of me if I were them. I'm an easy target. So, haircut. This weekend. Go.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Dress Up
I loved to to play dress up as a little girl. And as a teen. And as a college student. And I may or may not have costume appropriate clothing in my closet now. There's just something about putting on a different from every day kind of outfit and experimenting with a new hairstyle or makeup application that feels exciting and adventurous. The Major assures me this is a girl thing, but I don't believe him. You should see how he fusses over new uniform standards.
One of the things I love the most about a new look or new costume is that you really do get to create your own reality. You can imagine the personality the wearer of the look would present to the world. You can insert yourself into the life that outfit would lead. Or you can feel more fully yourself in a certain dress.
For my five year old niece Hailey, I think the latter is what inspires her costume choices. She has a trunk full of them. Everything you can imagine, her parents have procured at after Halloween closeout sales over the years. Her collection of fire retardant fairy costumes and princess gowns is resplendent. Not to mention her witches and pirates and super heroes and vampires. The girl has a wide and varied desire to try on new personas. But the one she continually returns to is that of princess.
Whatever outfit she dons, she connects to her royal roots. Vampire princess, pirate princess, Princess of the super hero guild. The girl has got it figured out. She can be whatever she wants to be and still maintain her true, core self. She doesn't have to give up her royal sensibilities to have and be whatever she dreams of. She's a princess at heart, and likely always will be. But that won't hold her back from being a frog wrangler or fire fighter.
A few weeks ago, I made the mistake of telling her she couldn't be both. We were playing dress up and trying on different costumes. She put on her pirate costume and informed me she was now the pirate princess. I told her she couldn't be both. That she could be a pirate or a princess, but not both. She had to pick one, and since she was wearing a pirate costume that made the most sense. She looked at me for a moment, her moss green eyes clouded with confusion, then said in a small voice, "But I want to be both. Why do I have to pick?"
As I thought for a moment about how to explain to her why it was better to choose one thing, I realized I didn't have a good answer and that, really, I was just wrong. So I reassured her that I was just being silly and that of course she could be whatever she wanted to be. As she flung herself into my arms for a hug she shouted "And you can be whatever you want to be, too!" Thanks for the reminder, Haily Bug. Apparently, Aunt Jess doesn't have the market cornered on wisdom just yet.
One of the things I love the most about a new look or new costume is that you really do get to create your own reality. You can imagine the personality the wearer of the look would present to the world. You can insert yourself into the life that outfit would lead. Or you can feel more fully yourself in a certain dress.
For my five year old niece Hailey, I think the latter is what inspires her costume choices. She has a trunk full of them. Everything you can imagine, her parents have procured at after Halloween closeout sales over the years. Her collection of fire retardant fairy costumes and princess gowns is resplendent. Not to mention her witches and pirates and super heroes and vampires. The girl has a wide and varied desire to try on new personas. But the one she continually returns to is that of princess.
Whatever outfit she dons, she connects to her royal roots. Vampire princess, pirate princess, Princess of the super hero guild. The girl has got it figured out. She can be whatever she wants to be and still maintain her true, core self. She doesn't have to give up her royal sensibilities to have and be whatever she dreams of. She's a princess at heart, and likely always will be. But that won't hold her back from being a frog wrangler or fire fighter.
A few weeks ago, I made the mistake of telling her she couldn't be both. We were playing dress up and trying on different costumes. She put on her pirate costume and informed me she was now the pirate princess. I told her she couldn't be both. That she could be a pirate or a princess, but not both. She had to pick one, and since she was wearing a pirate costume that made the most sense. She looked at me for a moment, her moss green eyes clouded with confusion, then said in a small voice, "But I want to be both. Why do I have to pick?"
As I thought for a moment about how to explain to her why it was better to choose one thing, I realized I didn't have a good answer and that, really, I was just wrong. So I reassured her that I was just being silly and that of course she could be whatever she wanted to be. As she flung herself into my arms for a hug she shouted "And you can be whatever you want to be, too!" Thanks for the reminder, Haily Bug. Apparently, Aunt Jess doesn't have the market cornered on wisdom just yet.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Well...
It's been a while since I went out to take pictures. I've missed it, but I've had other things on my mind of late. But yesterday, I couldn't take the confinement of winter a minute longer, so I packed up the Major and our beast into the car and headed to the park. It was a brilliantly sunny day, with light blue skies and wispy clouds skittering across the sky. I, of course, got no pictures of the sweeping, crisp views. It was a macro kind of day for me, and the ice formations next to the walkways had my attention. I figured I may as well embrace winter, at least photographically. And the winter of my eye was stark and foreign. It certainly fit my mood, anyway.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
I May Have Mentioned This Before
We had a bit of a warm up this past week. Temperatures rose to the mid 50s and things started to thaw. Of course, the sun still hid its shining face, but the warmth was enough to lighten my heart. Now we're back down in the teens, and the sun is shining. Go figure. I am not usually one to wish winter away. I appreciate the special kind of quiet the permeates the outdoors during our snow laden months. Sounds are muffled yet crisp, and I love it. But I'm ready for the lazy days of summer, which are not lazy at all. I'm ready for the waterways to open back up, to watch life float by at the pace of the current. I'm ready for the ducks to come back.
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