tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74050957214495355612024-03-14T01:30:20.264-07:00Bend in the Road...The story of a girl
ending...
beginning...
and the in between...joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.comBlogger203125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-9019869969004376232023-10-19T12:01:00.002-07:002023-10-19T12:01:26.494-07:00The Way It Never Ever Was<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtkD184dms36ozsirQFIftpJzYsw_eb2G4GT6hfe7m4ZJAkUMvrDDOS95NrPvCMwOWTfBfvNKBAZ4cdN67_9-SVQIrStIDtjULR-4Qe9ERWK2EuatbJw3xnbHiuKbSj-fnBMr7VVPonIqM52OGXHbRxLQdz6h7CB6UmRjdRUA7KbPnG3HlKPacgDhGMy0/s1080/more%20than%20my%20hometown.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtkD184dms36ozsirQFIftpJzYsw_eb2G4GT6hfe7m4ZJAkUMvrDDOS95NrPvCMwOWTfBfvNKBAZ4cdN67_9-SVQIrStIDtjULR-4Qe9ERWK2EuatbJw3xnbHiuKbSj-fnBMr7VVPonIqM52OGXHbRxLQdz6h7CB6UmRjdRUA7KbPnG3HlKPacgDhGMy0/s320/more%20than%20my%20hometown.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I have been neglecting this space of late. </p><p><br /></p><p>At the end of 2022 I started quite a few blog posts, only to never quite finish them. I gave up social media for Lent. Spring of 2023 was a whirlwind of Betsy graduating and life shifting. Summer seemed to fly by.</p><p><br /></p><p>So, I come today with shreds of thoughts and words.</p><p><br /></p><p>Felicity is bothered by the fact that I don't believe in divorce. (I'm always saying that the blog is about the fact that I am divorced, even though I don't believe in divorce, you know.) And she told me that there are very important reasons that people get divorced, like if they are being abused or are in a toxic relationship. And like a lightbulb over my head, I understood what she was meaning when she was so angry at me for saying that I don't believe in divorce. </p><p><br /></p><p>What I mean, of course, is filtered through my own experience. I wasn't abused inside of my marriage. I was blindsided, yes, I was naïve and young when I made a promise to love forever. </p><p><br /></p><p>I think that when I say I don't believe in divorce that's likely what I mean- just standing in front of a judge and dissolving my marriage didn't magically end everything. </p><p><br /></p><p>I'm trying (and believe me, it is a struggle) to unlearn my tendency to filter everything through my own thoughts and emotions. </p><p><br /></p><p>Heavens, that used to be the point of the blog- my unwinding all of these pieces that existed in the aftermath of my divorce. It was quite self centered. It was frankly selfish. It was grief and fear and the sadness of letting go of a part of myself. </p><p><br /></p><p>And, you know, it's not that anymore because time heals. </p><p><br /></p><p>21 years ago today I promised something that is still a piece of everything I bring to the world. I'm grateful every single day that I got to have that part of my life, if for nothing else that it brought my girls into the world and being their mother is the absolute best. But also for a million other reasons. </p><p><br /></p><p>I'm blessed where I am. Loving those boys who don't know me, lost inside of books and movies and my own head. I don't want something new, which took a long time to just admit to myself. And yet, all of the blog posts end that way. I'm always just talking in circles around how life turned out to be what it was meant to be. </p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: #040c28; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Trust in the LORD with all
your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways
acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight</span></i><i><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">.</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>No matter where I go, no matter what I do, I'll never be 23 with anyone but you.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal">It's just that. All of that.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: white;"><span jsname="YS01Ge"><br /></span></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-47622298117586893242022-12-30T07:43:00.000-08:002022-12-30T07:43:09.853-08:00Yesterday and Years Ago<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_GCaMsB94HJfiPOT1TcN2mpeFz2Pk1qxanKhTBWnVDWOt5ZXYFXvMGPWLPGqRQ32gD-obisVVA1NC9j2IyG0BAdmd_UZOyhNgfecG7IpmBfXMc95KAQ13hvM-5uCSYZQHvCPPG0ezl22A3GE1BSw8aZeH2xfwVrMpzr1XmiJKba7VnZ9eu0lBDpSR/s1080/hollarback%20girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_GCaMsB94HJfiPOT1TcN2mpeFz2Pk1qxanKhTBWnVDWOt5ZXYFXvMGPWLPGqRQ32gD-obisVVA1NC9j2IyG0BAdmd_UZOyhNgfecG7IpmBfXMc95KAQ13hvM-5uCSYZQHvCPPG0ezl22A3GE1BSw8aZeH2xfwVrMpzr1XmiJKba7VnZ9eu0lBDpSR/s320/hollarback%20girl.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> And 2023 is upon us.</p><p><br /></p><p>I have begun many blog posts this year, only to stop after a few paragraphs. I even wrote an explanation in one- "I haven't written on the blog in such a long time because the things that I have to say anymore seem redundant. The me that exists now is happy and contented and alone in only good and positive ways. Nick is replacing different flooring in my house, and Jenifer watches movies with me while he works, and we are who we were always meant to be."</p><p><br /></p><p>The purpose of the blog is one of those things that I am unsure of- I know what it began as (a writing exercise for a young mom), and I know what it became (a sanctuary in a time of upheaval and change). But I just don't quite know what it means now, in the aftermath of all of that. </p><p><br /></p><p>My word for 2022 was joy. It was a bit of a play on words, and a bit of a hope inside of a year that I had dreaded a bit. (Dreaded is such a strong word, but I just don't know another word for it.) It was a joyous and wonderful year, filled with blessings that I am grateful for. </p><p><br /></p><p>And so we come to 2023. A year of sure upheaval as Betsy Anne settles on a college, and Felicity Kate turns 15 and at some point will be learning to drive. They are my whole heart. Watching them grow up is the greatest gift I've ever been given, and I continue to enjoy every last second, even the prickly teenage ones. </p><p><br /></p><p>My word for 2023 is listen. For the bulk of this year I have imagined that it would be change and then two weeks ago listen came along and planted itself in my heart. It may just be me bucking the idea of change, which will of course come whether or not I claim it, but I feel pulled toward the idea of listening, and not talking as much, and being aware of what's around me. Taking in more music and more thoughts and more silence. </p><p><br /></p><p>2023. All the best is yet to come.</p>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-43030227124848525352022-06-09T12:05:00.001-07:002022-06-09T12:05:26.844-07:00In Through the Out Door<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVR7Yw7GDXXXG7eCWkOfibEWVNSobegpfF4Ly2kO-jUWq_qj6I9K77KSpT5RoIhhSlgu2Mldkaz_yRLtl33IEnB_yZqjp6hyCnynIQQEjrkjRbJYG7guvlXSUhddXpkl5VXGkI1Kn5w3R6IcuTrLh1CbP2rGZ1t95nCiVk1wmNtiIlj9Mdk-2m3Ocl/s1080/too%20late%20to%20turn%20back%20now.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVR7Yw7GDXXXG7eCWkOfibEWVNSobegpfF4Ly2kO-jUWq_qj6I9K77KSpT5RoIhhSlgu2Mldkaz_yRLtl33IEnB_yZqjp6hyCnynIQQEjrkjRbJYG7guvlXSUhddXpkl5VXGkI1Kn5w3R6IcuTrLh1CbP2rGZ1t95nCiVk1wmNtiIlj9Mdk-2m3Ocl/s320/too%20late%20to%20turn%20back%20now.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>I've had a revelation of late.</p><p>I remembered, quite out of the blue, that when I was in high school, I thought that I was in love.</p><p>Now, in all reality, I was not in love in the least little bit. (That is perhaps a harsh statement- I loved with my whole heart, as I still do, many people that I didn't know all that well in high school. And this person was my friend, and I knew him better than this sounds. But my point here is that I wasn't in love with him.)</p><p>When I think back on my life now, I usually sort of blot this person out. Or he's there, but on the edges. Where, of course, he was always meant to be. He was a friend who meant a great deal to me. But that was all that he was, ever. </p><p>He has a daughter who is a year older than Betsy, and so when we attend various going ons at the high school, sometimes I see her, and lean over and ask Betsy, "Now, who is that girl again?" And Betsy always rolls her eyes and tells me and I'm reminded that once upon a time this person meant the world to me. </p><p>And this particular time he stuck in my head a little longer, as I tried to understand how I let go of that person to the point that I barely remember to conjure him up in my memories of high school. </p><p>I think I was amazed that my heart had healed that up quite so well. It seems very unlike me. </p><p>It's been 7 years, give or take a couple of weeks, since, you know, life imploded. (There are a number of past posts that begin this same way, just change the date.) Life is full of so many wonderful things on this side of those 7 years, and none of them have to do with falling in love again, and there was a time when the thought of that- the thought of never falling in love again- made me feel like such a loser, like a sad little girl who wasn't invited to the party. </p><p>I can't quite say when that changed, but it did. The thought of never falling in love again doesn't seem sad or pathetic at all to me anymore. </p><p>I honestly, hand-on-my-heart don't know if I ever want to try to fall in love again. But just now I'm content with life as it is, and as it was- I was so lucky then, and I'm so lucky now. Blessed, always. </p><p><br /></p><p><b>Stuff I'm Loving:</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisYFSVDq_muo1gRu1aNPlDCRcP3PSWlhBJymltzOk0tgVWmdlJqYxtjOcMJTmflx39SyMbraLIIdkTRA34hjA3Z2WGqX0T5GVX0nPRmWPhVkfQjSE4rRER6kImO0kNrPS0LrmuWiNWgK_eJEJWDcrUWbbDm856FZSd_ORXSPPLboI8r_DiIc5w2rPY/s1336/Run.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1336" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisYFSVDq_muo1gRu1aNPlDCRcP3PSWlhBJymltzOk0tgVWmdlJqYxtjOcMJTmflx39SyMbraLIIdkTRA34hjA3Z2WGqX0T5GVX0nPRmWPhVkfQjSE4rRER6kImO0kNrPS0LrmuWiNWgK_eJEJWDcrUWbbDm856FZSd_ORXSPPLboI8r_DiIc5w2rPY/s320/Run.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b><p></p><p> <b>Run Towards the Danger by Sarah Polley</b></p><p>Sarah is exactly 2 weeks younger than me. The first time I ever encountered her, she was my beloved Ramona, and the second time, she was Sara Stanley, of my favorite television show ever, <i>Road to Avonlea</i>. I am, Sarah would say (and does, repeatedly in this book), the kind of girl that she would never have been friends with. Sarah is jaded and much cooler than me and as we have grown up together, I have always known that in reality we would never get on. I am one of the people that she describes in the book as a "wholesome-looking [girl], homeschooled, virtuous or overly innocent." Heavens, I named both of my children after <i>Avonlea</i> characters. I'm as much in the vein of those homeschooled, Christian girls as you can get (without actually being homeschooled). </p><p>All of that is to say, I know that my adoration of Sarah strikes people as strange, because she is so far removed from the young girl that I encountered at 11 years old in a role that she thought was stupid even then. But adore her I do, and this book is just another reason why. </p><p>The whole entire book is illuminating and memorable and just all the things. But in particular her chapter on Jian Ghomeshi should be required reading for all of us. Especially in light of the Johnny Depp/Amber Heard trial, and all of the subsequent articles about what this means for the #MeToo movement- Sarah's excruciatingly honest account of the considerations that one must make when it comes to deciding whether or not to add your (famous) name to a list of accusers is important. </p><p>Grappling with why we decide to continue engaging with someone who has hurt us is, I think, the most important conversation that any of us could be having right now. As always, I think this is a conversation full of nuance and grace and reading Sarah's words helped me to place my own feelings into a context that has alluded me for far too long. </p><p>She would never choose me for a friend, but I'm grateful that she has grown up alongside of me. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvgMkMkOxKaofkOhb0nn1Sxj3uxbCzIkeA5ZqK5Z3HEuY6HPhkxTzzMEPm6gffAxGYhBgJjaa-46jg_2LHhtP6f4hNIPg8q24Bms6UYyXm9JbmzKJePBs94HJxP8qr41GXVRW2W7O-BAdoW0NnZUtJ-RThYe_WN4_6tHB8NnMXl0gECxdnRy3k3AlY/s1908/corner.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1908" data-original-width="1908" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvgMkMkOxKaofkOhb0nn1Sxj3uxbCzIkeA5ZqK5Z3HEuY6HPhkxTzzMEPm6gffAxGYhBgJjaa-46jg_2LHhtP6f4hNIPg8q24Bms6UYyXm9JbmzKJePBs94HJxP8qr41GXVRW2W7O-BAdoW0NnZUtJ-RThYe_WN4_6tHB8NnMXl0gECxdnRy3k3AlY/s320/corner.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><b>Out of the Corner by Jennifer Gray</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p>This is a 180 degree turn from Sarah, but Jennifer's memoir is a delight. It's full of stories that I didn't realize that I was longing to hear. Most especially, though, it was a fascinating look at the life of someone that I feel like a own a piece of- I have watched <i>Dirty Dancing</i> hundreds of times, in addition to <i>Ferris</i> and <i>Red Dawn</i> and even <i>If The Shoe Fits...</i> because I am a true Jennifer Gray fan. Time Hop pointed me to an old blog post the other day that I had written in 2016 in which I compared Jennifer's career to Winona Ryder's. (This was pre-<i>Stranger Things</i> and I was lamenting Winona's' lack of roles and I said, "It's sort of like Jennifer Gray's career only on a much larger scale.")</p><p>And then she not only grapples with exactly that as her career dries up basically the minute she gets A-list famous, but she then befriends Winona (they also were both engaged to Johnny Depp- that chapter alone is worth recommending the book). She is true life best friends with Tracy Pollan, who is one of my most favorite people ever. She's funny and relatable and not Baby Houseman at all while still being exactly who I would hope Baby Houseman to be. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijlHxgynmbqhMycWw2qSU3GNfhTBtgNAljjf9uR12lwEsQqIf1u4dwbaLc1o_H_pEB4qAR19v9ufyJGLbgIb_GvwWx8K6mYRqd8b6qZJ-HHDhVHM153m5iBHkDon4fIvZ93MLrpxMtJ0RdCS3gDNzvE7l_ivq8hB3GfsxuM3axpiBQD9Ffgr1SNrEu/s1350/Stranger%20Things.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijlHxgynmbqhMycWw2qSU3GNfhTBtgNAljjf9uR12lwEsQqIf1u4dwbaLc1o_H_pEB4qAR19v9ufyJGLbgIb_GvwWx8K6mYRqd8b6qZJ-HHDhVHM153m5iBHkDon4fIvZ93MLrpxMtJ0RdCS3gDNzvE7l_ivq8hB3GfsxuM3axpiBQD9Ffgr1SNrEu/s320/Stranger%20Things.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p><b>Stranger Things</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p>Felicity and I love <i>Stranger Things</i>. We have to watch it separately because Betsy cannot handle any of the imagery at all, so Felicity watches it quickly and I watch it slowly (because I am old and understand savoring things that you enjoy) and then we send each other memes and argue with each other about whether or not Mike is a likeable character (he is). I love that "Running Up That Hill" is cool again. (Just as Felicity and I call "The Never-Ending Story" our song now.) I love everything about it and I will miss looking forward to it when it officially ends.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTa3tgQE5reUtSgu_DEj1VXZgbNVB9KSgugmwvVRQYjY2Br-yis05GatNq9Npe7XZV--1R1uMEniCOoUAAmzVFMywH8A9cdLy0w0JvV0HaTp0wpa5UUSzVA5k-0-5ApwS-HsigYxp8Tw5SGRExoJXbI74ILqvBFaptpG69RD3uh5xnYJzyS_Zc0x-7/s1080/stephen%20king%20summer%202022.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="1080" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTa3tgQE5reUtSgu_DEj1VXZgbNVB9KSgugmwvVRQYjY2Br-yis05GatNq9Npe7XZV--1R1uMEniCOoUAAmzVFMywH8A9cdLy0w0JvV0HaTp0wpa5UUSzVA5k-0-5ApwS-HsigYxp8Tw5SGRExoJXbI74ILqvBFaptpG69RD3uh5xnYJzyS_Zc0x-7/s320/stephen%20king%20summer%202022.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><b>Stephen King Summer 2022</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p>Laura Tremaine (one of the most delightful people on the internet) is once again hosting "Stephen King Summer." Last summer I read <i>Carrie</i>, <i>Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption</i>, and <i>Misery</i>. I genuinely enjoyed all three- I had only ever read one Stephen King book prior to last summer, which was <i>The Shining</i>. Laura has been reading Stephen King since she was young and wants everyone in the world to know what a great writer he is-she refers to herself as a "Stephen King evangelist." As someone who would likely not have read these books without prompting, I am the perfect audience for this- he is an extremely talented writer and I'm so grateful that I found this way to read his books and discuss and dive deep. The link to the website where Laura is hosting this is <a href="https://www.lauratremaine.com/stephenkingsummer?utm_source=newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=stephen_king_summer_is_here&utm_term=2022-06-08" target="_blank">Stephen King Summer</a> if you are at all interested in joining.</p><p><br /></p><p>Other than that, I'm just reading a lot (I am keeping up with posting on Goodreads, which I used to be just terrible about), and the girls and I are watching <i>Felicity</i> (and I had forgotten how good the first season of it is), and we watched <i>Dead Poets' Society</i> at Felicity's request over the weekend, which led her down a fan fiction rabbit hole and I can't help but love how very, very much like me Felicity is becoming. Betsy is working at the pool again and working a giant puzzle while she rewatches <i>The Brady Bunch</i> for the millionth time. </p><p><br /></p><p>It's always the same summer for the three of us and that's just how we want it to be. Forever. </p>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-9954129682933887232022-04-25T10:56:00.001-07:002022-05-04T09:34:49.242-07:00The Ground That We're On Might Be Common<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCJtxxH8YZxpPD3NBjxQk1XxhKbEXmej-5EM1494E2O3S1Qso8EEjdalQPSw5oEMAedSXibJPvVekfqp8JDWh5gFmxBUI5GnriSHwCfHrdh18qAVbb-WFQh-xTn8kbSZkQhiz5nA1iJ_kB9CxA8FtQsHfgAA9kLIaHqktYlKCgX31fat6aJtHZcOB/s1898/Put%20Your%20Lights%20On.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1898" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCJtxxH8YZxpPD3NBjxQk1XxhKbEXmej-5EM1494E2O3S1Qso8EEjdalQPSw5oEMAedSXibJPvVekfqp8JDWh5gFmxBUI5GnriSHwCfHrdh18qAVbb-WFQh-xTn8kbSZkQhiz5nA1iJ_kB9CxA8FtQsHfgAA9kLIaHqktYlKCgX31fat6aJtHZcOB/s320/Put%20Your%20Lights%20On.jpg" width="182" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>I am having such a struggle adjusting to the idea that we are busy again.</p><p><br /></p><p>And heaven knows, the girls and I are not busy at all like normal people- but we have discovered through a couple of years of mostly just being home a lot that it's our favorite way to spend basically all of our time. </p><p><br /></p><p>(I have always, always been a homebody, so this was nothing new to me, but when the girls were younger we did <i>all the things</i> and thought nothing of it. Now, the three of us crave time alone and wonder at how we managed all those things.)</p><p><br /></p><p>Life, though, has picked back up, and we've been busier this past month than we have been the previous 2 years, and it has been quite a lot to maneuver. </p><p><br /></p><p>We did finish watching <i>Roswell</i>, and as I remembered correctly, the third season was so atrocious that Betsy said, "I'm, like, embarrassed if anyone would watch this season and think that I liked it." I told her that she is lucky that her favorite show, <i>Julie and the Phantoms</i>, only lasted the one season because at least it didn't turn into something that was horrible. She didn't agree, but I am quite positive that I'm right- <i>My So-Called Life</i> and <i>Freaks and Geeks</i> remain in perfect bubbles because there was no time to mess them up.</p><p><br /></p><p>With that said, though, I am glad that <i>Roswell</i> had a second season, despite the fact that I didn't especially love it (I did, however, like the second season better than the third). Rewatching these old episodes quite naturally led to me rereading old <i>Roswell </i>fan fiction and that has been a lovely way to spend a lot of my time- remembering what writing in a fandom was like, how all encompassing those stories became, how every throw away line could be mined to be turned into a story. I have binders full of my favorite stories from the <i>Roswell</i> fan fiction world, and I'm so glad that I had the sense to save them because of course it would be impossible to find many of them now. </p><p><br /></p><p>(We also spent last weekend having a 2 Coreys weekend, which was a trip- we watched <i>License to Drive</i> first, and Betsy said, "This is a terrible movie," and then we watched <i>Dream a Little Dream</i> and she said, "This makes that other movie look good." Of the two, I am of two minds- on the one hand, Haim is my favorite Corey, and he is the star of <i>License to Drive</i>. But Meredith Salinger is the most underrated actress of all time (except possibly for the peerless P.J. Soles) and <i>Dream a Little Dream</i> has that wild scene where Feldman dances like Michael Jackson. But then again, we all know that the best 2 Coreys movie of all time is <i>The Lost Boys</i>.)</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Stuff I'm Loving:</b></p><p><b>Yellowjackets</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJGGU-GxZ0h0QFW00Zc26TF3YtljxQavtoRitk-WMaLZPWrqsTNOOEiBO7J_fNLJMpIgZUqQSNEYBDeVBEReVyMms0B_GNw_Roz3aDw8FcLCoqaVTM2f0CkElefhHGEZYFEewUxqcrvbXqdQ9bwwVog8Dg2n9H8C0M4JVgSY_mdv-hB490YbwgN3Cq/s1080/yellowjackets.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="842" data-original-width="1080" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJGGU-GxZ0h0QFW00Zc26TF3YtljxQavtoRitk-WMaLZPWrqsTNOOEiBO7J_fNLJMpIgZUqQSNEYBDeVBEReVyMms0B_GNw_Roz3aDw8FcLCoqaVTM2f0CkElefhHGEZYFEewUxqcrvbXqdQ9bwwVog8Dg2n9H8C0M4JVgSY_mdv-hB490YbwgN3Cq/s320/yellowjackets.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b><p></p><p>This is my new favorite show. I rarely watch anything right when it comes out because I hate being left on a cliffhanger. But for some reason I abandoned my usual "5 years later" plan and binged this as quickly as possible and am now sad to have to wait for new seasons. I cannot recommend it highly enough.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><b>This </b><a href="https://www.clevescene.com/news/absolutely-no-skill-involved-an-oral-history-of-the-ohio-lotterys-cash-explosion-game-show-38679528?utm_source=newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=newsletter_axioslocal_columbus&stream=top" target="_blank"><b>Cash Explosion Article</b></a><div><br /></div><div>My sister and I loved to watch Cash Explosion when we were little and this article is just such a trip- the stories of lives changed by these winnings are such a balm to ordinary stories of how the lottery ruined someone's life. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-left: 39.35pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-left: 39.35pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>AACK CAST!</b></p></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgANqXczIyODeQXYb4UF2DcRJ5HQRkQh2lsyznI0qX-utypq25M37hwYRwDYjRTasDdiHhNXtHHZ4M3hIL639vzZS-NxgR8kgKRwbiDCdvS2KU_t6mRYUNb5tKHFzilDbMdUV3iQuz923FGUuInKn6b5H4UpqhF2UpnfjGieLxrLkQFgBNpKe8xG8tz" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1397" data-original-width="1080" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgANqXczIyODeQXYb4UF2DcRJ5HQRkQh2lsyznI0qX-utypq25M37hwYRwDYjRTasDdiHhNXtHHZ4M3hIL639vzZS-NxgR8kgKRwbiDCdvS2KU_t6mRYUNb5tKHFzilDbMdUV3iQuz923FGUuInKn6b5H4UpqhF2UpnfjGieLxrLkQFgBNpKe8xG8tz" width="186" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><div>My very first calendar that I bought for myself when I was probably 14 was a <i>Cathy</i> calendar. <i>Cathy</i> has come to represent a certain kind of woman, obsessed with weight loss and getting a husband, and Jamie Loftus sets the record straight with this extensive podcast discussing the origins of <i>Cathy</i>, how she changed and evolved over years, and the work of women in comics. It was most enlightening.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Just now, the girls and I are rewatching all of my classic <i>Degrassi </i>episodes (<i>Degrassi- </i>at least the old school 1980s version- never hit a bad note), and I'm catching up on the movies that were nominated for Oscars on my weekends alone (I have said before but it bares repeating, I don't believe at all in the idea of a "best" anything of the year, but I have found that watching all of the nominated movies usually makes for weekends full of movies that are profound in their own individual ways). </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6b7ZquJKWbhl5YcfcYYLgEbZosu6-xHB8hvLJ9ivkjo4FSrOh2Vooxjco1lidc9qtwotaDXXZixgZgBQVlZqKkuNLSYx5V7Rd42lgWh1s3Wp1pTgghJ3OekVLxlrlyZbQO1NTiC_Vnve_AQswVWycnK7f6a1Lp0yfYFtg22bMTDc7nPX5ALSH_T53/s1908/save%20tonigh.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1908" data-original-width="1908" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6b7ZquJKWbhl5YcfcYYLgEbZosu6-xHB8hvLJ9ivkjo4FSrOh2Vooxjco1lidc9qtwotaDXXZixgZgBQVlZqKkuNLSYx5V7Rd42lgWh1s3Wp1pTgghJ3OekVLxlrlyZbQO1NTiC_Vnve_AQswVWycnK7f6a1Lp0yfYFtg22bMTDc7nPX5ALSH_T53/s320/save%20tonigh.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p></div>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-27669333842298865852021-12-29T12:52:00.001-08:002021-12-29T13:21:27.871-08:00For What It's Worth<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnuYbAAXd67u-P-srGaCs9tsL0yVB1vsY5D2Mgu66p9OwdU_x3QneUXbIoXSkxAjxQ5Ks-2T7J9vsT_qmhK0wqu-dPsDGokG9D4pgDcAltV8hMbdeW0cYpKVFfNGm7Cf7uMzrs6JZDk7xjaNeXYhz5eyzoK3ne3JcyDZOlgPHuM4jOKKfaADPF8DD3=s1080" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1074" data-original-width="1080" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnuYbAAXd67u-P-srGaCs9tsL0yVB1vsY5D2Mgu66p9OwdU_x3QneUXbIoXSkxAjxQ5Ks-2T7J9vsT_qmhK0wqu-dPsDGokG9D4pgDcAltV8hMbdeW0cYpKVFfNGm7Cf7uMzrs6JZDk7xjaNeXYhz5eyzoK3ne3JcyDZOlgPHuM4jOKKfaADPF8DD3=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>It’s that time of year, when the world falls in love…</i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">How is 2021 nearly over? It surely just began last week. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My word for 2021 was quiet, and it may have been my favorite
word I’ve ever chosen. Quiet suited everything that I held dear to me in the
past year- quiet was just the year that I needed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I have a thing about 7<sup>th</sup> years of life-
historically speaking, for me, every seven years my life shifts. 42 was a seventh
year, and life simply shifted in my embrace of who I am without all of the
apologies. My writing shifted. I moved away from who I was at 35, which I didn’t
even realize I was clinging to. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And now the page has turned to 43 and all of life seems to
be right where I want it. For an anxiety prone person, that is a frightening
statement. Truly, though, I couldn’t be happier or more content- I know all too
well that life will shift again in one short year and my Betsy will spread her
wings and find her way without me. It’s more than I can bear to think about,
and so I push it far to the back of my mind and focus on the here and now. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Being a parent to teenagers is such an incredibly fun ride,
even though it is tangled and prickly sometimes, and figuring out one girl responds
to me in a completely different way than the other one does, and it’s a constant
dance that the three of us are finding our way through. I am blessed beyond my
wildest dreams with my girls.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Entering this 2022, and this year that will fly by much too
quickly, as we try so hard to soak in every minute, the word that I have chosen
is joy. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face="Roboto, arial, sans-serif" jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 14px;">There were times when I forget the lows</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span face="Roboto, arial, sans-serif" jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 14px;">And think the highs were all that we'd ever known</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">These words have become my mantra. Along, of course, with a million other words. But those in particular hit a chord. My head is full of all the highs, and it's not that I forget the lows so much as I have found a home for them to exist. Memories of who I used to be then. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Joy is where I'm fairly certain I am, joy is where I want to remain. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Here's to 2022. All the best is yet to come. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-32097747893140094842021-10-19T11:24:00.003-07:002021-10-19T11:34:18.063-07:00Somebody That I Used To Know<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZCMm4-4SGI/YV8-MR9R0eI/AAAAAAAAA7A/IUnZ-0VvnTYXiROLZFkZ64hqqIlJ6Sq3QCNcBGAsYHQ/s642/take%2Ba%2Bpicture.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="642" data-original-width="642" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZCMm4-4SGI/YV8-MR9R0eI/AAAAAAAAA7A/IUnZ-0VvnTYXiROLZFkZ64hqqIlJ6Sq3QCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/take%2Ba%2Bpicture.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>“You’re getting along better than anyone I’ve ever seen in
my office.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That was what the lawyer told us when we were filing our dissolution
paperwork. It remains something that I hold close to my heart, even if I do
wish I would have said in that moment, “That is what the marriage counselor
told us too.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">(That’s a true statement and not just a joke.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My friendship with Nick remains the thing that I am most
proud of, even if it’s hard won and sometimes awkward. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>I wish you wouldn't wait for me, but you always do</i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal">Accepting this friendship as it is, as it has become, has been at once the easiest and also the hardest thing that I have ever done.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">But it's important- the boundaries erected have been needed and necessary, and sometimes it has hurt putting them up, and sometimes I have wondered what it would have felt like to burn it all to the ground.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">I accept whole heartedly that the path that I have taken hasn't always been the one that was the most advisable, but it was the only one that I could find that didn't end with a whole lot of anger. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Today that is all that I have to offer this space.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal;"><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-14554624914406872332021-09-17T12:43:00.001-07:002021-09-17T12:43:24.433-07:00Walking on Sunshine<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KUBPNiosGTE/YTJhszcAXVI/AAAAAAAAA5s/Ph-eBB8LPLYynigbJ_qrbZFPyQ44PFO2QCNcBGAsYHQ/s642/private%2Beyes.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="642" data-original-width="642" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KUBPNiosGTE/YTJhszcAXVI/AAAAAAAAA5s/Ph-eBB8LPLYynigbJ_qrbZFPyQ44PFO2QCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/private%2Beyes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div>I am taking my word for the year, which is quiet, quite seriously on the blog. I'm feeling a little like I did when I stopped writing fan fiction and it pressed heavy on my heart and at the same time it was the right thing to do. <div><br /></div><div>Not that I intend to stop blogging entirely or anything, but life this year has indeed been somewhat quiet and also immensely happy. We are at a juncture of life that is amazingly full of so much fun- Betsy is a junior and can drive, which has changed life in so many ways, and Felicity is thirteen and full of sass and love and it's a trip but luckily for me, it's a trip I've been on before, and so I hold fast to the bits that are precious and sigh sometimes and am grateful that we are halfway through this phase. </div><div><br /></div><div>The girls and I are watching <i>Roswell</i>, which is of course the show that changed my whole life 20 years ago, introducing me to fan fiction and to the idea that people would actually read words that I would write. It's bananas, watching this show that hardly anyone watched with these two girls- it's this huge piece of my heart that is strange and hard to put to words. Those stories that I wrote once upon a time were a window into my soul, and reliving it is both such fun and also hard in ways that I didn't anticipate. </div><div><br /></div><div>We are also watching all the Marvel movies in order on Friday nights (I still have a hard time keeping things straight though) and this summer we watched tons of old 1980s movies that were such fun to introduce them to. Betsy worked at the pool and we took such an amazing trip with my whole family (I say this every year, but nothing is more fun that taking a trip with the people you love most in the world in a 15 passenger van- I will miss so much this phase of life when it passes).</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p><b>What I'm Loving Right Now:</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b>Stephen King</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HtVxoFZ_0pw/YUTg06-dTUI/AAAAAAAAA6o/qn55KdMDPR8-vF4pwbSq6pvSCaLW8gvXgCNcBGAsYHQ/s1080/stephen%2Bking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1080" height="315" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HtVxoFZ_0pw/YUTg06-dTUI/AAAAAAAAA6o/qn55KdMDPR8-vF4pwbSq6pvSCaLW8gvXgCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/stephen%2Bking.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Laura Tremaine is one of my favorite people on the internet and she created a Stephen King book club for the summer. Laura loves Stephen King and her dream is to introduce him to people who would not normally pick up one of his books. I had read <i>The Shining</i> at my friend Joe's insistence once, and while I did like it, I didn't feel compelled to read any more. Since Laura started off with <i>Carrie</i><u>,</u> which is a movie adaptation that I adore (Sissy Spacek is one of my most favorite actresses ever), I thought I would give it a try. We read <i>Carrie, Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption, </i>and <i>Misery</i>. </p><p>I am beyond happy to say that I thoroughly enjoyed all three, with <i>Carrie </i>being my favorite. I'm looking forward to continuing next summer. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dcxz2OLPFw0/YTJidrN7gGI/AAAAAAAAA50/TahOAAEwmoAI9kF2NVpTjp2l2u3nEhk1QCNcBGAsYHQ/s1550/the%2Bplot%2Bthickens.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1550" data-original-width="1052" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dcxz2OLPFw0/YTJidrN7gGI/AAAAAAAAA50/TahOAAEwmoAI9kF2NVpTjp2l2u3nEhk1QCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/the%2Bplot%2Bthickens.jpg" width="217" /></a></div><div><b>The Plot Thickens and You Must Remember This</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Turner Classic Movies is my favorite channel ever of all time. I was delighted when they announced that they were creating a podcast. The first season of <i>The Plot Thickens</i> is about Peter Bogdanovich- who I knew as the director of <i>The Last Picture Show</i> and from Cybill Shepard's autobiography. I instantly became entranced with his first wife, Polly Platt, and as luck would have it, Karina Longworth created a nine episode arc on <i>You Must Remember This</i> all about Polly. Highly recommended.</div><div><br /></div><div>The second season of <i>The Plot Thickens</i>, about the making of <i>The Bonfire of the Vanities</i>, is also wonderful.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I-oqxRbnGg8/YTJjFBbTSjI/AAAAAAAAA58/VWvbCjcYQ90ZXaZI2RmFuU3fc3RW6V2jwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1522/you%2Bmust%2Bremember%2Bthis.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1522" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I-oqxRbnGg8/YTJjFBbTSjI/AAAAAAAAA58/VWvbCjcYQ90ZXaZI2RmFuU3fc3RW6V2jwCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/you%2Bmust%2Bremember%2Bthis.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uqEBubVErT4/YTJj18tHELI/AAAAAAAAA6E/hGP1kDS4fFs9zKP_3HMVRUlaGTslcSviwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1440/three.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uqEBubVErT4/YTJj18tHELI/AAAAAAAAA6E/hGP1kDS4fFs9zKP_3HMVRUlaGTslcSviwCNcBGAsYHQ/w200-h200/three.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><b>Three Blooms Farms</b></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>For the third time, I subscribed to Three Blooms Farms flower subscription. It is so lovely to come home to fresh flowers, and she delivers to my door. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-54rnF5y5qwY/YTJj3pE5ooI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/7FpsIf6gpBIsv-vkhYDdxRY1ovO4dF08wCPcBGAYYCw/s1440/blooms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-54rnF5y5qwY/YTJj3pE5ooI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/7FpsIf6gpBIsv-vkhYDdxRY1ovO4dF08wCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h200/blooms.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>If you are local to New Concord, I highly recommend this subscription. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vddvtAl0qzA/YTJj6IYb4kI/AAAAAAAAA6c/W-ozlbSG3kcHvgnsuGw9b5F9BlAVcHXywCPcBGAYYCw/s1440/sunshine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vddvtAl0qzA/YTJj6IYb4kI/AAAAAAAAA6c/W-ozlbSG3kcHvgnsuGw9b5F9BlAVcHXywCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h200/sunshine.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_e4ii34Kavg/YTJj438fpfI/AAAAAAAAA6c/iipOQHAyCdIgUhLlpxCd2LXETbpOPeY7ACPcBGAYYCw/s1440/farms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_e4ii34Kavg/YTJj438fpfI/AAAAAAAAA6c/iipOQHAyCdIgUhLlpxCd2LXETbpOPeY7ACPcBGAYYCw/w200-h200/farms.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Life is quiet and blessed.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lkqSKM2mEVY/YTJkfnBvKRI/AAAAAAAAA6g/kksiq68rKCE1nF9eLGj6-DFN3dolwC3hgCNcBGAsYHQ/s2578/steal%2Bmy%2Bsunshine.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2578" data-original-width="1220" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lkqSKM2mEVY/YTJkfnBvKRI/AAAAAAAAA6g/kksiq68rKCE1nF9eLGj6-DFN3dolwC3hgCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/steal%2Bmy%2Bsunshine.jpg" width="151" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><br />joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-86115954297918600932021-06-09T18:36:00.003-07:002021-06-10T03:09:15.264-07:00Let Me Reintroduce Myself <p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TMLeg-B-vBI/YKwENgLw1tI/AAAAAAAAA3U/VuPHWj7US6A-BW8lIbSO-xfvptKeqMvmgCNcBGAsYHQ/s1304/bob%2Bdylan.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1304" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TMLeg-B-vBI/YKwENgLw1tI/AAAAAAAAA3U/VuPHWj7US6A-BW8lIbSO-xfvptKeqMvmgCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/bob%2Bdylan.jpg" /></a></i></div><i><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #202124; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #202124; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #202124; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">All right, stop
what you’re doing</span></i><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #202124; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> <span style="background: white;">because
I'm about to ruin</span> the image and the style that you’re used to</span>…</i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #202124; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #202124; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Rest in peace, Shock G. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’ve just always wanted to open a blog post with that.
Always. (We all know that I’m not about to ruin any image you may have of me.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’m missing Television Without Pity.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The other day I was scouring the internet, attempting to
find someone’s - anyone’s- take on the Audrey/Pacey relationship in the sixth
season of <i>Dawson’s Creek</i> and I just wasn’t able to land on what exactly
I wanted and I realized that what I was searching for was Television Without
Pity.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For the uninitiated, Television Without Pity began as a <i>Dawson</i>
recap site and later branched out into all sorts of shows, including most
importantly to me, my beloved <i>Roswell</i>. I logged onto Television Without
Pity basically every few days and read the snarky takes and felt justified in
my obsession with teenage soap operas (even as, of course, I was a wizened
twenty-one-year-old). <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it is indeed that
snark that I’m missing, that obsessive detail with every line of dialogue. My
most favorite recaps (which were always for <i>Roswell</i> but I don’t remember
who wrote them) included a bit called, “The Best Thing I Watched on TV This
Week,” which never had anything at all to do with <i>Roswell</i> and instead
were nearly always Lifetime movies. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Anyway, I’m missing those recaps, especially as the girls
and I are nearly finished watching <i>Dawson</i> and I desperately am in need
of someone with a much better gift at a hot take than me to take on the
entirety of the idea of Audrey and Pacey and the way that their relationship
comes to an abrupt end as Audrey calls out Pacey for always wanting to be the
good guy while hiding behind the fact that he can’t commit and never, ever
should have pretended that he could. (I maybe carry a lot of my own baggage
into these storylines.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> (I wrote this weeks ago now, and the girls and I have finished <i>Dawson</i> in its entirety. The final two seasons were a bit all over the place, but in the end we cried to let these characters go.)</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Things I’m Loving:</b><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Know My Name by Chanel Miller</b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KZBckgKopRU/YLu5vTTSyRI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/DWl7iqbiJdg9hqDy7_FN_FDo9GmHOR2AQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1908/know%2Bmy%2Bname.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1908" data-original-width="1908" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KZBckgKopRU/YLu5vTTSyRI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/DWl7iqbiJdg9hqDy7_FN_FDo9GmHOR2AQCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/know%2Bmy%2Bname.jpg" /></a></div><br />This was a book that I picked up because so many people had told me how well written it is but I didn't particularly want to dive into this subject matter. So, now it's my turn- I truly believe this to be the most important memoir I have ever read in my lifetime. It should be required reading for everyone, no matter who they are. To sit with Chanel and hear her story is that important. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Decoder Ring: Jane Fonda's Workout</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x6hOmDSSHhc/YKv45Ay9ieI/AAAAAAAAA20/RGCRMER0V10uVCaWQdAG0jCipyCKH3cawCNcBGAsYHQ/s1397/Jane%2BFonda.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1397" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x6hOmDSSHhc/YKv45Ay9ieI/AAAAAAAAA20/RGCRMER0V10uVCaWQdAG0jCipyCKH3cawCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/Jane%2BFonda.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p>I listened to this podcast over Christmas, and keep forgetting to mention it- it's actually 2 parts, one about the Jane Fonda Workout and then one about the woman who actually created the workout, Leni Cazden. I went into this thinking that I would love listening to a breakdown of why Jane Fonda chose to use her celebrity to create a workout empire. But I found the piece about Leni a much more compelling listen, a fascinating look at a regular person caught up in a moment for which she did not receive much credit or compensation. </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><b>The Push by Ashley Audrain</b></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hdHQDFiShoQ/YKv4-rhBllI/AAAAAAAAA24/ErXl4iajbCwZq-g6_QnAXWzhMh1492WxwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1908/the%2Bpush.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1908" data-original-width="1908" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hdHQDFiShoQ/YKv4-rhBllI/AAAAAAAAA24/ErXl4iajbCwZq-g6_QnAXWzhMh1492WxwCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/the%2Bpush.jpg" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">All the caveats: trigger warnings for a host of things, including importantly the loss of a child. But I found it an interesting look at motherhood and mental health and healthy boundaries and insecure attachments. A book to be discussed.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><br /><o:p><b>The Tribe</b></o:p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pb6J68-t0qw/YKv5DKCzjNI/AAAAAAAAA28/8Uy1UvqRUHgS3XBy0wLXQnOFWiYG0Qq8ACNcBGAsYHQ/s1908/the%2Btribe.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1908" data-original-width="1908" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pb6J68-t0qw/YKv5DKCzjNI/AAAAAAAAA28/8Uy1UvqRUHgS3XBy0wLXQnOFWiYG0Qq8ACNcBGAsYHQ/s320/the%2Btribe.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_0V1I7vUDqE/YKv5y0f7bhI/AAAAAAAAA3M/PXXAmLFCULwiZPiOB-qqKemXbVxTazH5ACNcBGAsYHQ/s1080/lex%2Band%2Bzandra.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="754" data-original-width="1080" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_0V1I7vUDqE/YKv5y0f7bhI/AAAAAAAAA3M/PXXAmLFCULwiZPiOB-qqKemXbVxTazH5ACNcBGAsYHQ/s320/lex%2Band%2Bzandra.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I convinced my girls to watch <i>The Tribe</i>, which is a quirky soap opera from New Zealand that I fell in love with during college. A virus has wiped out the adult population and left the kids to fend for themselves (it kept surfacing in my memories the entire past year and I found it on Amazon Prime). They surprised me and dressed up like Lex and Zandra on Friday when I got home from work because they are indeed the people that I always hoped would come along and be my friends and watch all the crazy things I love with me. <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Showbiz Kids </b>and <b>Kid 90</b><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0NHxeFYB_7g/YK1K6LbSYyI/AAAAAAAAA3c/N4Ew4X3Ad88H0XvVA3VZOUKvohchCnP_gCNcBGAsYHQ/s1292/Showbiz%2BKids.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1292" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0NHxeFYB_7g/YK1K6LbSYyI/AAAAAAAAA3c/N4Ew4X3Ad88H0XvVA3VZOUKvohchCnP_gCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/Showbiz%2BKids.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ST0JcyEDw3E/YK1K-gxeQoI/AAAAAAAAA3g/40Wf-WSNN10xkCrSHZV7-gPtNQKuhY20ACNcBGAsYHQ/s775/Kid%2B90.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="775" data-original-width="534" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ST0JcyEDw3E/YK1K-gxeQoI/AAAAAAAAA3g/40Wf-WSNN10xkCrSHZV7-gPtNQKuhY20ACNcBGAsYHQ/s320/Kid%2B90.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>Documentaries are one of my favorite things, and these two did not disappoint. <i>Showbiz Kids</i> is an excellent look at the price of fame for kids, and includes interviews with one of my favorite humans, Wil Wheaton, and also one of Betsy's, Cameron Boyce. I watched it by myself, unsure if it would be something that would interest the girls, but I watched it all over again with them when they got home from their dad's because it's a fascinating glimpse at a world that seems glamorous but of course, <i>of course</i>, is full of pitfalls. I'm carrying the interview with Evan Rachel Wood close to my heart, where she says that she was always led to believe that if she didn't want to act it would be such a waste of her talent- I've dwelled on why exactly it is that we insist the things that you have natural talent for should be monotonized. It's a complicated question to me and I'm grateful to have been shown an answer from a different side. </div></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Kid90 </i>is a compilation of home movies from Soleil Moon Frye and it's as wonderful as you would imagine. As I've said many times, I was the girl who carried around my video camera for large swaths of my time in high school, in particular my entire senior year, and so I feel a complete kinship with Soleil's desire to keep a piece of her adolescence close to her heart. (I also understand why she boxed these all up and didn't watch them for years- even though there are plenty of good memories that I have of those days, I don't enjoy reliving them in quite the way I imagined I would.) </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Our school year has ended, and it has really been a wonderful year for us. Both of my girls loved remote learning (for many reasons, remote learning worked well for us, and I know that was not the experience of most people, and I remain forever grateful to East Muskingum for allowing us this option). </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Grateful always for time with my girls, even as we are silly and crazy and time is moving much too quickly. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Akqy9xqRR_4/YLu7lZZoc0I/AAAAAAAAA4g/5n39A14YLjEI8EIK6pzqXwMFD0WzvrmcACNcBGAsYHQ/s1908/tuscora.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1908" data-original-width="1908" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Akqy9xqRR_4/YLu7lZZoc0I/AAAAAAAAA4g/5n39A14YLjEI8EIK6pzqXwMFD0WzvrmcACNcBGAsYHQ/s320/tuscora.jpg" /></a></div><br /> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-79497260321941724182021-02-24T11:36:00.001-08:002021-02-24T12:37:54.496-08:00Fetch the Bolt Cutters<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S0kV_nBBIoI/YAssENhNeXI/AAAAAAAAA0k/QYU8eaU5c9wKXAGkjB16HEEotlgxj0hPQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1080/hooked%2Bon%2Ba%2Bfeeling.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S0kV_nBBIoI/YAssENhNeXI/AAAAAAAAA0k/QYU8eaU5c9wKXAGkjB16HEEotlgxj0hPQCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/hooked%2Bon%2Ba%2Bfeeling.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal">My Betsy Anne is having something of a mid-life crisis. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My sister, who has a doctorate in psychology, has assured me that this is all completely and
totally normal. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Bets is staring at the idea of college and scholarships and
just the entire rest of her life and wondering what to do and mostly feeling
like she wants to just stay a kid forever. And so every night we talk about
this, about how I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life when I was 16,
and how I honestly had no idea what I wanted to do with my life at 36, and
somehow I became a water billing clerk. And I love my job and the people that I
work with and everything about working for the Village- but of course, it’s not
that my calling was in understanding water meter readings. My calling rests
solely inside of these two precious girls and being their mother, and my job is
just a means to an end to keep us fed and clothed. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Does this help? I don’t know. But we talk about how those
twenty years in between were filled with books and professors who changed my
life and meeting a boy and becoming a mom- all of it glorious, and none of it
has led me to a “career,” and while I’m fine with that reality, I also want her
to swing open wide every door that she finds interesting and never to feel like
she cannot accomplish something and also to never stop being my sweet, tender
hearted girl.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And then my Felicity Kate has discovered <i>Twilight</i>. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She loves
it so much that she has created a shelf in her room for all things <i>Twilight</i>
related. (She also packed up all of her Calico Critters at the same time. It
was a bit much- I wasn’t expecting that she turn into a teenager overnight.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It’s
been a lot to maneuver, and it’s hitting us how little time is left before life
shifts again, before we have to adjust to a new normal. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">5
years ago life slammed a door shut with such force I could never pry it open
again. It forced me to find the window. And yes, climbing in and out of a
window is weird but it works for me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Life
on this side of the after is as close to perfect as it’s ever going to get. My
life revolves around these two girls. It is the best piece of being divorced- I
get to spend my nights with these girls wherein we listen to incredibly loud
music, all the Tik Toks, all the 1980s/1990s shows and movies that we can, painting
fingernails and arguing and laughing and existing as a family in a way so
different- it’s not for everyone I’m sure. But it works so well for us, even as
we navigate existential crisis and the particular end of eras. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When
I drop my girls off every other Friday night with their dad, as I drive away, I
always feel a little bit sorry for him, that I am going home to be by myself
and just enjoy the quiet for a weekend (just for the two days, I promise). The girls told me that recently he
said to them that he thinks that I would like to be going home to someone, that
I probably miss having someone to do things with while they are gone. And it
struck me as so typically us, me the introvert who craves being alone like its
water in a desert, and Nick the extrovert who wants the people around him all
the time. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We
are- all four of us- we are right where we were always meant to be.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Stuff
I’m Loving:</span></b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">(there's a good bit because it's been a hot minute since I wrote on the blog):</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<a href="https://www.vox.com/culture/2018/1/25/16911234/dawsons-creek-20-years-love-triangle-joey-pacey" target="_blank">This Dawson's Creek Article on Vox</a><br />
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This article
is just what I needed as we are halfway through <i>Dawson</i>, and this article
breaks down the Joey/Pacey/Dawson triangle to what it exactly is-namely, that
by rearranging the storyline to focus on Joey rather than Dawson, and then to
make Pacey the hero, the writers created a formula for teenage soap operas that
has continued to this day. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9czd5rhN038/YDam2jgb4rI/AAAAAAAAA1I/uPAgJeRIrUgr73rTOFSAIi-4mjzf0kPgQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1080/Bible%2BBinge%2BKirk%2BCameron.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="518" data-original-width="1080" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9czd5rhN038/YDam2jgb4rI/AAAAAAAAA1I/uPAgJeRIrUgr73rTOFSAIi-4mjzf0kPgQCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/Bible%2BBinge%2BKirk%2BCameron.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><p></p>
<a href="https://thebiblebinge.com/listen/kirkcameron" target="_blank">The Bible Binge: Favored or Forsaken: Kirk Cameron</a><br />
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
have tons of feelings about Kirk Cameron, most of them good (Kirk lived on my
wall from the time I was in the third grade), and a handful of them thorny and
messy. Knox, Jamie, and Erin spend this entire episode unboxing Kirk and his
place in Christian culture and where he gets things right and where he becomes
problematic. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
also loved the recent Favored or Forsaken bonus that was a snake draft of
Contemporary Christian artists but that is only available on the Patreon feed. Let
me say, though, it is so excellent to find people in this world who can claim
P.O.D.’s “Boom” as the best sports anthem, Jars of Clay as life changing, and Point
of Grace and Amy Grant as just the OG best. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w6Sfqs5REpI/YDam9488GyI/AAAAAAAAA1M/eBbfLhqx_qAzZaD1ArbDCr-6O5DHI6QEwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1576/Judas.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1576" data-original-width="1066" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w6Sfqs5REpI/YDam9488GyI/AAAAAAAAA1M/eBbfLhqx_qAzZaD1ArbDCr-6O5DHI6QEwCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/Judas.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>Judas and the Black Messiah </b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Excellent, excellent watch. My favorite thing about this social distanced world is watching new movies in the comfort of my own home and one I have no doubt will never change. The girls and I bought new reclining movie chairs for our big Christmas gifts this past year, and we love them and now have even less reason to ever leave the house. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">HBO Max was a sort of lackluster subscription for me (and I say this having subscribed to Quibi) but with the new policy of releasing the movies there the same day as in the theater- kicked it up a notch and please let it never change. The performances in this movie are all amazing. Highly recommended.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bbBT8heaPYY/YDanDZl5Q8I/AAAAAAAAA1Q/cDjioGJKNKcSWuocEdr9iujI17TIVkk2ACNcBGAsYHQ/s1654/To%2BAll%2BThe%2BBoys.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1654" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bbBT8heaPYY/YDanDZl5Q8I/AAAAAAAAA1Q/cDjioGJKNKcSWuocEdr9iujI17TIVkk2ACNcBGAsYHQ/s320/To%2BAll%2BThe%2BBoys.jpg" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b>To All The Boys: Always and Forever</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">To be clear, the books are better (this is true 99% of the time). But the first and third adaptations of Jenny Han's delightful books are very good (the second one wobbles, but I do love the opening of it, an homage to <i>Adventures in Baby-sitting</i>, which is hands down the best opening of a movie ever, so I appreciate what they were doing there). I love Lara Jean with all my heart and am so glad to have met her.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b>R. Eric Thomas</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Someone that I follow (perhaps Erin Moon? I don't remember) introduced me to R. Eric Thomas's email and it has been bringing me joy for a month now. I cry from laughing so hard, most recently at his long thread about the new <i>101 Dalmatians</i> trailer- I read a lot of very serious stuff, and this is just the most perfect distraction ever. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IcNmJ8xCie8/YDanJgTKQkI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/8Io-cGsFEWQr8iAks8q4Sf9yEooTxP_IgCNcBGAsYHQ/s2578/These%2BTruths.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2578" data-original-width="1220" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IcNmJ8xCie8/YDanJgTKQkI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/8Io-cGsFEWQr8iAks8q4Sf9yEooTxP_IgCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/These%2BTruths.jpg" /></a></b></div><b><br /><i><br /></i></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><i>These Truths: A History of the United States </i>by Jill Lepore</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Such an excellent history of the United States- this doorstop of a book was a labor of love for me to get through but I'm so glad that I persevered. I gave it 5 stars on Goodreads, which I never do. (On that note, I am trying to be better about updating my Goodreads page- I find Goodreads clunky to use but I'm trying.)</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q9bPk-A0ZCs/YDanN6iLCmI/AAAAAAAAA1g/_UdrE58Eisw4etNBMdqJcVkKZ8mKDikrACNcBGAsYHQ/s1080/Kylie%2BDisco.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1003" data-original-width="1080" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q9bPk-A0ZCs/YDanN6iLCmI/AAAAAAAAA1g/_UdrE58Eisw4etNBMdqJcVkKZ8mKDikrACNcBGAsYHQ/s320/Kylie%2BDisco.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i style="font-weight: bold;">Disco</i> <b>Kylie Minogue</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">I've been binging this since it came out and it is just the shiny, poppy, happy music that my heart is aching for just now.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Life just now feels full of hope. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p><br /><p></p>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-81136246526763099622020-12-21T09:12:00.000-08:002020-12-21T09:12:24.471-08:00Right Where You Left Me<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nPLHF7Ci8L4/X76e4M2NqFI/AAAAAAAAAzw/MYZ9_7AG1_IpqUSVUBl7qW56Y-JtFY0KwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1080/american%2Bsoldier.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nPLHF7Ci8L4/X76e4M2NqFI/AAAAAAAAAzw/MYZ9_7AG1_IpqUSVUBl7qW56Y-JtFY0KwCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/american%2Bsoldier.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><div><p class="MsoNormal"><i>“The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born:
now is the time of monsters.”</i><i> -</i><i>Antonio Gramsci</i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Never have I stumbled upon a quote that speaks more to my
heart in this darkest time of the darkest year of life. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This time of year is always one of introspection for me,
this last bit of the year that holds my turning a new age just as the world turns
a page onto a new time, a new perspective- I have realized in the past few
years how very lucky I am to be born on Christmas day, which just naturally is
a time of year lent to figuring out how much you’ve grown in the past year and to
look forward to the new year with all of its empty planner pages ready for new
hopes and dreams. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But of course, this year everything has a completely different
shine to it. Life at the end of 2020 is not about looking back over my favorite
things that I’ve stored up to recommend, not about looking back to where I have
traveled and how I have grown as a person- life at the end of 2020 is about
survival, and joy found in pockets of the tiniest glimmers of hope, and grief
unlike I’ve ever known on such a wide scale.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My own personal grief story, cataloged so thoroughly in this
blog, feels to me like it has been lived out in front of my eyes by nearly
everyone I know as they grapple with this year. The world turning upside down through no fault of your own isn’t
much comfort when you still have to deal with the consequences of decisions
taken from your hands. Life keeps plodding along even as all of the tentpole
moments have been stripped so bare it is hard to recognize them. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I keep being reminded of the first year that the girls and I
decorated for Christmas as just the three of us- I kept saying, “Just think,
next year this won’t seem so strange because we will have lived through it
before.” And now, every single year as we get the decorations out, I say it and
we laugh over how silly with grief those three girls were, so sad to be
dragging heavy boxes out and trying to figure out what decorations could be
safely put out without dredging up too many memories of their father. If it
helps at all to know, this year we put all of the old decorations out, even those
“Johnson Family” decorations that we so carefully stowed away that first year, because
it doesn’t make us sad to remember anymore.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Which leads me to what this year that I chose the word “release”
means to me now. 2020 has been a year of release unlike anything that I have
ever known. Some of it (most of it) has been the same for me as for everyone-
an understanding of how many seemingly small joys I take for granted in life,
of coming to grips with how frightening it is to understand truly what tender
hooks my life is balanced on. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But it has also been a year of me releasing, finally, the
idea that I am going to just control life from here on out. I could have told
you, 5 years ago, that I knew that my obsession with my hair and my weight and
my routine was a symptom of my feeling at loose ends, staring at the end of my
marriage. I understood it in my head. But I honestly didn’t care. If
straightening my hair gave me a reason to get out of bed in the morning and not
see that girl whose husband had abandoned her, then straighten my hair I would.
<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’ve released bits and pieces of all of that leading up to
this year. But this year was the year that I finally got it through my head
that it doesn’t matter exactly how my marriage ended. The story that I began living
at 21 years of age had this painful ending, yes, but that was all a part of the
making of me. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I envy people that I know whose love stories have continued
on, true, but I also have a deep desire to own this story that I am living. I
lived out a story that had an ending. I’m never sure what exactly I’m brushing
up against when I bristle against that- if it’s that good Christian girls don’t
get divorced, or if it’s that Type A girls don’t give up on anything- but this
year of release has been about me accepting that as a fact and letting it live.
I’m not trying to tie it up in a bow and make it all neat and tidy. That grief
hurt. But it’s gone now. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The word that is pressing on my heart for 2021 is “quiet.”
That’s a scary word for me to embrace. I’ve spent such years working my way out
of my shell, getting to a point where I talk (much too much) instead of being
overcome with fright. But quiet is what I’m feeling entering 2021. I want to
wrap my arms around my girls and enjoy these last few years of Betsy being at
home, I want to wrap myself inside of my books and music and movies and just
marinate in the enjoyment that life brings. I want my words to be uplifting and
hopeful, words untangling themselves from fear and worry. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I want to be the girl who lived. <o:p></o:p></p><br /></div>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-27645645325817523022020-10-26T15:09:00.001-07:002020-10-26T18:30:39.631-07:00Freaks and Geeks<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q5ZorWttcbg/X5cUXHrtF0I/AAAAAAAAAzY/E2ib9Ub6DqoyGdxX2T5Om4_TVX0r2nAEQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1350/my%2Boh%2Bmy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q5ZorWttcbg/X5cUXHrtF0I/AAAAAAAAAzY/E2ib9Ub6DqoyGdxX2T5Om4_TVX0r2nAEQCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/my%2Boh%2Bmy.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">It’s the spooky season in the Watson Johnson house, and we
are eating up all of our favorites, which include (but are not limited to)<i> Hocus Pocus</i>, <i>Ghostbusters</i>, <i>Halloweentown</i>, <i>E.T.</i>,<i> Hotel Transylvania</i>, <i>The Munsters</i>, <i>The Addams
Family</i>, and (finally, for the first time) <i>Scream</i>.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As such, my apologies for the Christmas spreadsheet being
late- my brain isn’t in Christmas mode yet. (Although, allow me to assure you
that the moment we hit November 1, the Christmas playlist will be on and I will
gladly consume any movie that includes “mistletoe” in the title.)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1typvo-4FTmTQifXorNA0ZP0f3N35Ji9O/view?usp=sharing" target="_blank">Christmas Movies 2020</a><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Anyway, anyway….<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">I don't talk about politics on the blog even though, as my therapist says, it's my jam. As the wonky nerd that I am though I will talk until my final breath about how important it is for you to vote. <a href="https://onyourballot.vote411.org/m/build.do" target="_blank">Vote 411</a> is a great resource to learn more about your ballot choices before you vote. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-500IrEGQ-N4/X5cScuBcW2I/AAAAAAAAAy8/xak5uXUGzHcvfg5P1AIZ-WdQQGHbyl92QCNcBGAsYHQ/s2280/purity.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2280" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-500IrEGQ-N4/X5cScuBcW2I/AAAAAAAAAy8/xak5uXUGzHcvfg5P1AIZ-WdQQGHbyl92QCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/purity.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>The Bible Binge: Faith Adjacent<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Purity Culture</b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I adore this spinoff from my beloved Bible Binge podcast, in
which Erin Moon searches for biblical “reception in unlikely places.” I
mentioned a couple of blog posts ago, I have been really pondering my own
experience with purity culture. This podcast spoke to so many experiences of my
youth, holding them up to the light without making fun of them, just searching
for truth and meaning- all of it engrossing, in my opinion.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SW9m2yzqZew/X5cSgoWCM_I/AAAAAAAAAzA/BPDkckSfcNYqPp_f_S5H0CBIsO725Pv-wCNcBGAsYHQ/s2280/kirsten.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2280" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SW9m2yzqZew/X5cSgoWCM_I/AAAAAAAAAzA/BPDkckSfcNYqPp_f_S5H0CBIsO725Pv-wCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/kirsten.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>The SSR Podcast<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Episode 117: Meet Kirsten</b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>SSR</i> is one of my most favorite ever podcasts, in which Alli
Hoff Kosik and a guest read young adult literature (normally from their own
youth) and reexamine it in light of adult minds and perspectives. I was excited
for this episode with Kate Kennedy from the <i>Be There In Five</i> podcast (I truly
love <i>Be There in Five</i> but-important caveat- Kate’s episodes are so long, often
two hours, I have to really prepare myself to pay attention for that long to
just Kate alone talking- I’m sure that says something about my attention span).<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I was just honestly jazzed because this was an American Girl
book. My Samantha doll remains to this day my favorite gift ever, and I own all
of the Kirsten books, so I was familiar with her story. Alli and Kate dig deep
into American Girl and its origins and subsequent buyout by Mattel. It’s all fascinating in the best way.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-biL2lgA3aQI/X5cSyHSeq6I/AAAAAAAAAzM/PLE4oIZ9rGYefZDRUUpbaNazXpzF0LdDwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1156/jessica.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1156" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-biL2lgA3aQI/X5cSyHSeq6I/AAAAAAAAAzM/PLE4oIZ9rGYefZDRUUpbaNazXpzF0LdDwCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/jessica.jpg" /></a></div><br /><o:p><br /></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Open Book by Jessica Simpson</b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’m only halfway through listening to this on Audible and I’m
loving it so much I have to gush about it on here. I watched Nick and Jessica’s
television show and always felt such affinity for Nick-he was closer to my age,
and it always seemed that he was the mature one. Listening to Jessica’s story
is captivating. She doesn’t deny at all her mistakes, but it is so fascinating
to understand where she was coming from, what her life was like leading up to
her stardom, how much making a reality show truly changed the course of her
life. I’m forever and always interested in other people’s lives (which is why
memoirs are my thing), and of course throw in divorce and I will devour it. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">We are heading into the darkest days, and in this crazy year everything feels anxious around the edges. I'm holding onto this time with my girls full of movies and books and nights in and trying to learn the dance to BTS' "Dynamite." Which is harder than it looks.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-26616223423209842262020-10-19T12:09:00.002-07:002020-10-19T16:41:55.124-07:00I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-raHwCZU0e-4/X43itMs9LDI/AAAAAAAAAys/pun-8dNvw3EeccvW2VBXmxB3upitSfNrwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1080/you%2Bknow%2Bi%2Blove%2Byou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-raHwCZU0e-4/X43itMs9LDI/AAAAAAAAAys/pun-8dNvw3EeccvW2VBXmxB3upitSfNrwCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/you%2Bknow%2Bi%2Blove%2Byou.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">18 years ago today it was raining (not quite as dreary a day
as today, but it was raining). My grandma told me that was good luck. (It wasn’t,
obviously, but when I am a grandma, I will say the same thing.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Every year, on this particular day, I write a blog post that
mostly I don’t post.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">5 years on seems like a good time to let them live.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">From 2017:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“The thing is, as I have mentioned, I waited a really long
time to meet someone and fall in love with them. I didn't wait patiently. I
prayed and wished and hoped for love to hit me over the head like a
sledgehammer and I exasperated everyone around me because I was forever talking
about wanting to fall in love and get married and that's exhausting and boring
after a while. I didn't have a plan for my life. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Enter Nick. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Enter exactly everything you ever wanted all in one fell
swoop. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was so very fairytaleish.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It makes everything much more complicated than it surely
needs to be.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">From 2018: <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I had a revelation today.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">(To begin, I talk to myself in the car in the mornings,
unless I am on the phone. Most days, I actually am on the phone. But when I’m
not, I yammer to myself.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Anyway, a revelation.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I said, “I am trying to learn to love someone without losing
myself in the process.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And then I just sat there for a minute.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Because, you know, <i>what the heck</i>?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I know all of the correct things to say about this-things
that I say to my girls, about being strong women, about finding their passions.
I have spent this past year doing all the brave things, trying new things,
falling down and getting back up and all the things. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But here is a brave thing: I’m going to be very honest in
this space. When I met Nick, and he fell in love with me, I tangled myself all
up in that feeling, that idea that someone wanted to build a life with me,
wanted to have children with me-and that’s as it should be, of course. I
married someone who was my very best friend at the time, who I just adored-I
had never been in love before and I found it intoxicating. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My marriage came apart in pieces. You know that metaphor
about boiling a frog? How, if you want to boil a frog, place it in the pan and
let the water slowly rise and it doesn’t know to jump out? That is the best way
that I know of to describe how my marriage came to be in pieces without me even
completely realizing it. Because, of course, looking back everything seems
obvious. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But somewhere recently I read something that said, if you
don't feel safe enough to yell back, you're not safe enough.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It all dovetails-my personality is that I want to be the
best, so naturally I wanted to be the best wife. Mix that with genuine
adoration and trust and faith in happy endings, and<i> just what I always
wanted, always, for as long as I could remember</i>, and my beautiful
girls and our family, and it just”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">(That’s where I ended it.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">From 2019:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I don’t know how to teach Betsy how to navigate dating-how
to flirt, or how to figure out if a boy is interested in you, or any of those
things. I feel completely useless to her. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The lack of instincts that I have around any of that is
somewhat astounding.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the before, I would have simply told her that when you
actually fall in love, everything just falls into place. That was my
experience. Nick Johnson came along and swept me off my feet and life was never
the same again. It didn’t matter about flirting or dating really or any of
those things-because I met Nick and I just knew that he was who I had been
missing. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the after, I am left with this notion that mostly that
wasn’t the best way to go about falling in love. I should have questioned more,
I should have concentrated on figuring out who I was instead of just who I was
as Nick’s wife. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Divorce is just such a tangle of emotions-it’s like living
beyond the end of a fairy tale into the cold light of day, and realizing that a
lot of what I believed to be the truth that I built my life on was a lie. It
takes all that I have not to go into this explanation every time I tell anyone
that I’m divorced-we did all the right things. We had date nights, we were best
friends, we were all the things. And it still didn’t work out. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My marriage taught me that there is no guarantee to love. We
wake up every morning and chose to love that person that we are with. Which is
an amazing notion when this other person is choosing to be with you, and”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">(That’s the end of that one. No idea at all what the rest of
that sentence was.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the end, it’s just that I want to remember. I didn’t post
these at the time because my feelings are always so raw around this particular
memory. Even as it has changed and evolved and twisted into what exists today. I can't put to words what it is today. Maybe next year. <o:p></o:p></p>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-2024362819498240062020-09-30T11:54:00.001-07:002020-09-30T15:28:45.887-07:00Doves Cry<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wcXPwq3XI_c/X3TUJumQHCI/AAAAAAAAAyc/txIHYFpbW6QuFBEO95g1cYEGKPLyGQ3YQCNcBGAsYHQ/s682/when%2Bdoves%2Bcry.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="682" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wcXPwq3XI_c/X3TUJumQHCI/AAAAAAAAAyc/txIHYFpbW6QuFBEO95g1cYEGKPLyGQ3YQCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/when%2Bdoves%2Bcry.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“I am well in body, although considerably rumpled in spirit”-
oh, Anne girl, me too.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Life just now, today, feels heavy. Pressing. Dark. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When I lived all those years inside my own head- those years
in college when I only spoke to a handful of people and then those early years
of motherhood where my social circle mostly just included Nick, my sister, and
my parents- sometimes I long for that girl. She was lonely, yes- especially the
one in college- but she didn’t feel so much.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We have lived through our first breakup. And I am so very
proud of Betsy and how she handled herself- she was honest and brave and tried
her best to explain that she values the friendship that they created. My heart,
though, my heart was not created for such things. I truly adored her boyfriend,
and found him to be so polite and kind. I am proud of Betsy for understanding
that she needs to be honest about her feelings- she is so much braver than I
am. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That compounded with an unexpected death in a friend’s
family, along with the death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg- it’s all so much. (Most
people who know me well know that I love to read Supreme Court rulings and I
adore, honestly, all of the justices in one way or another.) <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The original plan for today’s post was to be this fun post
about various podcasts and books I’ve been loving and then sharing my
spreadsheet for the Halloween movie schedule. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I contemplated just not posting anything at all, but spreadsheets-
they truly are my love language.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"> <a href="https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/13aWYQEwGuX8D5y_2ZTc3Allm7ZPRJEZy6EpZyBiUImg/edit?usp=sharing" target="_blank">Halloween 2020 Spreadsheet</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">For now, that will have to do. </p>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-46403701482938912952020-09-16T03:14:00.000-07:002020-09-16T03:14:33.194-07:00To Dawson, with Love (but Joey and Pacey forever)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wQytt629SKM/X1_Jctsy4PI/AAAAAAAAAwo/c_pFo2pnjV40y4XmrVQEnmpxUXI22TmxACNcBGAsYHQ/s682/super%2Bhot%2Bfemale.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="682" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wQytt629SKM/X1_Jctsy4PI/AAAAAAAAAwo/c_pFo2pnjV40y4XmrVQEnmpxUXI22TmxACNcBGAsYHQ/s320/super%2Bhot%2Bfemale.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">We have finally arrived at Capeside.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The girls and I began watching <i>Dawson’s Creek</i> at the start
of the school year, and they are rightly hooked- we are still in the beginning,
the Dawson/Jen/Joey phase. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Michelle Williams is one of my all time favorite actors in
the here and now, and watching her in this first role I ever saw her in- I have
a much better appreciation for what she is asked to do with this role that was
so clearly defined as the girl that you were initially supposed to root for, to
find as a suitable side to this love triangle of two girls in love with the
same boy- before, of course, the entire thing shifted to two boys in love with the
same girl, due to the undeniable chemistry of one Katie Holmes and one Joshua
Jackson. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I was in college when Dawson premiered, and as an avowed <i>Buffy</i> fan I began watching that very first night. My favorite character, then
and now, was Joey Potter. I, of course, saw Joey as an extension of myself, the
girl pining away after the boy who is all caught up in the beautiful blond girl-
I knew that role all too well. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Imagine my surprise when my girls exclaimed after watching
for about 20 minutes that I was so clearly Dawson- and my reluctant admittance that
they are entirely right. The movie geek with rose colored glasses and a
complete oblivion to everything around him, bound and determined to mine every
life lesson into a script for life to follow? <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So, I’m trying to make some peace with the idea that I am
not, in fact, the sarcastic, overlooked but beautiful girl next door but
instead the sort of pathetic geek who realizes everything only after it’s
patently obvious to everyone else. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b>How Did This Get Made? Sleepaway Camp</b><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yPG8aVlm4sk/X1_Jrlv9YpI/AAAAAAAAAws/Y0GerNz0bLIrrSABe3j_Ys6lhXq5zVMVQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1259/Screenshot_20200914-154350_Podcast%2BAddict.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1259" data-original-width="1054" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yPG8aVlm4sk/X1_Jrlv9YpI/AAAAAAAAAws/Y0GerNz0bLIrrSABe3j_Ys6lhXq5zVMVQCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screenshot_20200914-154350_Podcast%2BAddict.jpg" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b><p></p><i>Sleepaway Camp </i>is this movie that I watched when I was 11 years old and I have been trying to exorcise from my soul ever since. I genuinely believe that it is a masterpiece of a slasher film, an allegory for sexual identity and growing up and, you know, dealing with a completely insane person raising a young girl. <p></p><p><br /></p><p>Somehow, trying to find a podcast about <i>Grease 2</i>, this popped up because I truly believe that God intended me to find it- this is the most dissection I've ever seen on this movie and it's just incredible- they bring up some good points that I have never thought of, and also I think that they are completely wrong about a couple of theories, which made me realize that I sort of feel some ownership over this bonkers movie. </p><p><br /></p><p>If you have ever seen <i>Sleepaway Camp</i> you will enjoy this podcast. And if you have ever seen <i>Sleepaway Camp</i>, please tell me so that we can have long discussions about it.</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Class Action Park</b></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tcfVH1mFKYc/X2EU2y5ZW1I/AAAAAAAAAw8/Jvq0HDAPbGYVaj_NAhbyQ1dVh9ctp8DwwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1080/class%2Baction.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="989" data-original-width="1080" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tcfVH1mFKYc/X2EU2y5ZW1I/AAAAAAAAAw8/Jvq0HDAPbGYVaj_NAhbyQ1dVh9ctp8DwwCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/class%2Baction.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>When the girls are at their dad's, I tend to watch documentaries (the girls hate it if I watch nearly anything without them, but documentaries are not their cup of tea). This documentary is a completely fascinating look at this amusement park in New Jersey that ended up killing several of its guests and injuring many more.</p><p><br /></p><p>I am a thrill seeker by nature, and as this began I was completely sure that I would ride most of these rides. However by the end I was most glad that I never visited this park, as I am sure I would have attempted most of these rides and surely gotten my much too trusting self hurt- it is mind blowing to me that there was so little inspection of these rides.</p><p><br /></p><p> Just now, the pumpkins are out, the Halloween costumes narrowed down, the wind has shifted and our walks are cooler and earlier every evening. Remote learning hasn't been completely clear of bumps, but it has been mostly really challenging in all the best ways and I am beyond proud of how hard the my girls are working and adapting and becoming the resilient souls that I have long prayed they will become.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0rNxRntfGt0/X2Fg8K-41EI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/a3NAcsHFeywlGq2srGG_KHraSChyWC_BgCNcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20200915_204759_137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0rNxRntfGt0/X2Fg8K-41EI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/a3NAcsHFeywlGq2srGG_KHraSChyWC_BgCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20200915_204759_137.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-46100484143698073222020-08-26T04:22:00.000-07:002020-08-26T04:22:40.045-07:00Sweater Weather <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ix4f193e8_c/X0ViZ5DUzYI/AAAAAAAAAwA/p2g7ynDxML8TwKWvg02pqhrS6zm9t7q3QCNcBGAsYHQ/s682/jesus%2Bfreak.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="682" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ix4f193e8_c/X0ViZ5DUzYI/AAAAAAAAAwA/p2g7ynDxML8TwKWvg02pqhrS6zm9t7q3QCNcBGAsYHQ/s640/jesus%2Bfreak.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">It’s planner season.<br /> <br />In this strange year of too much and yet not enough, I went
ahead and bought a planner even though I haven’t had much occasion to use my
planner since March. My head is all prepared for sweaters and pumpkins and
sharpened pencils, even though of course my heart knows better.<br /> <br />My mind in late August always starts preparing for school,
no matter how old I get, apparently. I found some of my old collages in my
cleaning out my basement this summer and it struck me how these- especially the
ones that I would put on my notebooks and book covers- they were sort of vision
boards for that young Joy.<br /> <br />That young girl that I was back then, she had such dreams
about what exactly life was supposed to look like- she always thought that she
was eventually going to grow out of her awkwardness.<br /> <br />Long ago I realized that I was never not going to be this clumsy,
much too loud person who never fails to realize two minutes too late that she
has said the exact wrong thing. But this summer, this strange summer of forced
introspection, has allowed me to make a peace with that in a new way. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b>The Wondering Years and All Things
Reconsidered by Knox McCoy</b><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GsC_jVF9eFg/X0ViEx0e6NI/AAAAAAAAAv4/CaDQsC-TonwU16LqJK2NcY9hBx5pGUdmwCNcBGAsYHQ/s2048/knox.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1806" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GsC_jVF9eFg/X0ViEx0e6NI/AAAAAAAAAv4/CaDQsC-TonwU16LqJK2NcY9hBx5pGUdmwCNcBGAsYHQ/s640/knox.jpg" /></a></div> <p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I consider Knox and Jamie (of my most beloved Popcast) to be
friends who are much cooler than I am. (I often wish that podcasts had been
around when I was in college and so at loose ends for what to do about my
absolute inability to talk to<i> anyone</i> around me.) These two
books by Knox speak so to my soul about what it means to remember with such
fondness these pieces of my faith that I grew up holding to, while at the same
time digging into and learning so much more to theology than I ever grasped as
that young girl.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I grew up loving <i>Brio</i> magazine and DC
Talk and I adored the <i>Christy Miller</i> series so much that I not only wrote a letter to my future husband at 16 (just as she did) but also I wrote a
letter to him every single year on my birthday and presented them to Nick on
our wedding night and genuinely never thought that a weird thing to do until
two years ago. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Knox (and Jamie and Erin) grew up in this same culture, too
old for <i>VeggieTales</i> but a little younger than Salty, right in that <i>McGee and
Me</i>, "Jesus Freak" hotspot. And frankly that’s not something that I talk about too
very much- none of my friends in high school read or watched these things, and
it was just sort of something that was a part of who I was but was also not
something that I discussed with anyone. Finding these books spoke to that part
of my soul, the one that remembers so fondly that world that I grew up in while
reconciling it with my much deeper and more considered adult faith. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Knox writes, “I am a part of a generation of evangelicals
who struggle to balance the simplistic spiritual perspective we internalized as
children with the more complicated notions and cultural conflicts we experience
now as adults.” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was a delightful way to spend bits of my summer.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b>Untamed by Glennon Doyle</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BC8lHQ_kgP8/X0VmL0Eq6WI/AAAAAAAAAwM/55BpRKjvHvA1NTEuaPULNW_5VtMY86vXwCNcBGAsYHQ/s2048/untamed.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1569" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BC8lHQ_kgP8/X0VmL0Eq6WI/AAAAAAAAAwM/55BpRKjvHvA1NTEuaPULNW_5VtMY86vXwCNcBGAsYHQ/s640/untamed.jpg" /></a></div><b><br /></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Everyone kept telling me that I needed to read <i>Untamed</i>. People who know me really well, and people I have only barely met. So finally I plunged in. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">And I get it- my co-dependent soul needs to inject some of her words into my veins. Becoming an adult in the middle of life, becoming who you were meant to be after what seems like the biggest bits of life have come and gone- it's hard and yet amazing, uncomfortable and yet freeing. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">There are pieces of Glennon's story that I just cannot relate to (breaking up her family, even though I completely and totally understand why that happened, and it's not that I fault her for it, but it is also far from my reality), and the old Joy would have internalized that as having done the wrong thing, not grieved or changed in the correct way. The Joy of 2020 takes that as different people living different lives and loving them and understanding that growth comes in all kinds of different forms. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Glennon is a brave soul and I am all the better for having met her.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b>The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4nRrjqWtT7Q/X0VmYAxAu2I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/uAM36JIHoMYowVmibZz30vemBqqEC68SgCNcBGAsYHQ/s2048/vanishing.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1535" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4nRrjqWtT7Q/X0VmYAxAu2I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/uAM36JIHoMYowVmibZz30vemBqqEC68SgCNcBGAsYHQ/s640/vanishing.jpg" /></a></div><b><br /></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Brit Bennett is officially one of my favorite writers. <i>The Mothers </i>was amazing, and yet <i>The Vanishing Half </i>tops it. This novel is intricate in its examination of race and family and it has stayed inside of my soul, in the way that all the best books do.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">This summer has been full of many more books and movies and rearranging the furniture. Full of reliving so much of who I was twenty some years ago, and at the same time listening to <i>Folklore</i> on a loop and falling in love with Sam Ryder on Tik Tok (his version of "What's Going On?" is perfect) and absolutely loving <i>The Baby-sitters Club </i>on Netflix (much to my surprise, because I truly love <i>my </i>Baby-sitters on VHS tapes). </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">This summer has been a reset, a time of quiet that has been healing to my soul. A time of learning and grace and trying to be kinder to myself in understanding that we are all figuring this out as we go.</p><br /><p></p>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-81271640232921749962020-07-24T12:47:00.001-07:002020-07-24T12:48:43.942-07:00Goodbye to Yesterday...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FYZAZ716uIg/Xxs12lKXkbI/AAAAAAAAAvU/quovTx_TgvIZouZFX1ios3DVeh7OFcZhACNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/when%2Bits%2Ball%2Bover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FYZAZ716uIg/Xxs12lKXkbI/AAAAAAAAAvU/quovTx_TgvIZouZFX1ios3DVeh7OFcZhACNcBGAsYHQ/s320/when%2Bits%2Ball%2Bover.jpg" width="320" height="320" data-original-width="689" data-original-height="689" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Last night on my walk I heard the sound of the cicadas and I suddenly realized that it is nearly late summer. This year has at once crept along and also flown by-very much like my years spent at home with my babies. The days would stretch on, especially in the very beginning when it seemed like I just finished breastfeeding and suddenly she would be hungry again and I honestly felt like I would be this lumpy mess of a human being who would manage not one thing in a day for the rest of my life.<br />
<br />
I tell this story a lot, but when Betsy was about 2 a friend of mine was talking to me about her teenage daughter putting on her coat and I said, “I just cannot imagine that there will be a day when Betsy can just put on her coat.” <br />
<br />
And now in the summer of 2020 we are teaching Betsy how to drive.<br />
<br />
It goes so fast.<br />
<br />
Anyway, this morning I was reading this insightful (and quite funny) piece on Grub Street called <a href="https://www.grubstreet.com/2020/07/life-after-sourdough.html">“Life After Sourdough,”</A> and it reminded me exactly of what life first felt like 5 years ago.<br />
<br />
I have a terrible tendency to loop everything back to my divorce- it is the prism through which I filter everything, I know, but the thing is, living through this <i>unprecedented time</I> feels like everyone is going through a grief so very similar to mine at the end of my marriage- as the year goes on, and we have to accept change that we did not want, we grieve so hard this thing that we have no control over, that we cannot change no matter how much we wish things were different. <br />
<br />
This article, in which Rachel Sugar discusses how four months ago she was excited about her sourdough starter, about how she has tried to find a hobby that is useful and time consuming but also sort of easy- “That would require constant attention but also demand nothing.”<br />
<br />
It hit a cord.<br />
<br />
Five years ago, I wanted to fill all of my time with <i>something</I>- I tried so many different things. I took my life down to the studs and built it back up again, trying new things, pushing myself past old boundaries that I had invented for myself. It sounds sort of pleasant, stated that way, but it was hard. <br />
<br />
I was unmoored from all that I knew myself to be. That is a scary place to be. <br />
<br />
What has become of that is who I am now. I am a much more confident person because I have tried so many different things, and failed a lot, and I truly believe that most things can at least be understood if not mastered by reading and asking a ton of questions. <br />
<br />
I’m never going to know the answer to the question that I’m searching for- as Rachel says, “It can’t stay like this, I’d said for months, but it turned out it sort of could.” <br />
<br />
Sometimes I tell myself, “This is just a thing that happened. There isn’t any great mystery to it- people get divorced all the time.” And sometimes I look back at the past five years, and see all of this change in how I approach the world, and I’m just floored that I ever think that it just happened.<br />
<br />
<i>"It's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then."<br />
-Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll</I> <br />
joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-86690267243863887742020-06-10T16:24:00.000-07:002020-06-11T03:19:55.620-07:00Simple Kind of Life...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EHqMjZrHWN8/XtlNioF_zWI/AAAAAAAAAug/MZKOcnaQo_sqLe_7Ax33QCcW5-HGxfNegCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/shape%2Bof%2Byou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EHqMjZrHWN8/XtlNioF_zWI/AAAAAAAAAug/MZKOcnaQo_sqLe_7Ax33QCcW5-HGxfNegCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/shape%2Bof%2Byou.jpg" width="320" height="320" data-original-width="1080" data-original-height="1080" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
You know how I like to take a metaphor and beat it to death.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6EcclWRm5ws/XuFg3OEIE5I/AAAAAAAAAuw/rG66qPvO1dwDM9FsiX3vUTqcbU1BDquIACNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/15918286738065031508249882890967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6EcclWRm5ws/XuFg3OEIE5I/AAAAAAAAAuw/rG66qPvO1dwDM9FsiX3vUTqcbU1BDquIACNcBGAsYHQ/s320/15918286738065031508249882890967.jpg" width="320" height="152" data-original-width="1600" data-original-height="758" /></a></div><br />
This is release. This completely full dumpster. <br />
<br />
17 years ago, baby Joy bought this house that she had wanted for as long as anyone can remember while her husband was in Iraq. It was exciting and terrifying. I hated making huge, life altering decisions without Nick, but at the same time this was the dream. This house and babies. That was all I wanted or cared about having once I became a grownup. <br />
<br />
This old house planted itself in my heart around age eight, and as such I love it despite a great many annoyances that come along with it- bugs love it; I have this incredibly annoying small leak in my bathroom closet that I have been trying to fix for months and every time I think I’ve got it, water gets in again; the person that owned it just prior to me raised the living room floor and lowered the ceiling at the same time, which seems like a weird combination.<br />
<br />
Still, my babies came along inside of this house, and it grew right along with us as we finally gave up on the idea of having a dining room (that we never used) at all in favor of a game room; as we rearranged furniture to create the illusion of more space; as the babies’ rooms grew into the rooms of (much too messy) teenagers. <br />
<br />
The house had come with a ton of stuff that the previous owner did not want, and it doesn’t seem to have occurred to me (or Nick, for that matter) to have done anything about it. As such, our basement and garage held bits and pieces of someone else’s life.<br />
<br />
And then, 17 years of living happened, and Nick never met anything that he particularly wanted to throw away, and when he did leave, he left behind mounds of stuff. <br />
<br />
It has taken 5 years for me to get to a place of release inside of my heart to want to claim this space as completely and totally my own. And here we are, and I feel ten times lighter just from letting go of everything that was taking up that space in my heart (and also literally inside of my house).<br />
<br />
June normally undoes me. Try as hard as I might, June comes along every single year with her insistence on waking up this part of my heart that I’ve bandaged up and healed as best I can and reminds me that I’m a girl who was left behind. It brings fresh to the surface memories of what that sting felt like, of how helpless I felt and then anger at myself for feeling helpless at all and frustration with myself for any of it. <br />
<br />
This year, though, that hasn’t yet happened. Oh, June came, and brought her memories with her, but somehow there wasn’t all of the emotions. There was just, oh, there you are. Welcome back.<br />
<br />
Maybe physically releasing things is helping in ways I can’t quite articulate. Maybe it’s just been long enough that I’m used to it. Maybe it’s that I’m over it. <br />
<br />
Whatever it is, I’m loving that I chose release. <br />
<br />
joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-6793040911825046882020-05-13T12:13:00.000-07:002020-05-13T12:17:38.512-07:00Is It Cool That I Said All That?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-udZDJse-7jU/Xrw6QyDLPFI/AAAAAAAAAuI/10xtkNM6E4042XntSI91AR_vxMBXME2vgCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/i%2Bwant%2Byou%2Bback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-udZDJse-7jU/Xrw6QyDLPFI/AAAAAAAAAuI/10xtkNM6E4042XntSI91AR_vxMBXME2vgCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/i%2Bwant%2Byou%2Bback.jpg" width="320" height="320" data-original-width="642" data-original-height="642" /></a></div><br />
<br />
The sun is shining, Michael is singing “I Want You Back” through my speakers…it’s that time of year. <br />
<br />
And it’s finally (almost) time for me to declare five years.<br />
<br />
You know how cancer survivors hold five years sort of out there, as a goal? Well, I have held five years out there since all of this began. There is no real secret to five years, I know. Wait long enough and time will elapse and that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. But here we are.<br />
<br />
I’ve had many, many revelations about all of this recently, and I don’t know for certain if it is a matter of how much time has elapsed, or if it’s been this season of forced downtime with my precious girls, or if it’s an emergence of a new outlook on life- or, most likely, it’s all of those things. <br />
<br />
Life just now is really right where I want it to be. As always, I wish that I could hold that girl from 5 years ago and tell her that. <i>It all turns out okay. Better than okay. Promise.</I><br />
<br />
(I honestly don’t know if this is interesting to anyone at all besides me. I realize that most people in this world move through things quicker than I do. Heavens, I know people who have been widowed who have remarried in the time that I have been slogging along in this. Which is fabulous for them, and I truly hope for all of the world to find love, and I’m here for all of it. It’s just not my truth.)<br />
<br />
Here’s the deal: in the beginning (I have said this before), I simply assumed that life would lay itself out like a romantic comedy that I was unaware I was living inside. If Nick wasn’t the right person, then right person would somehow appear and all of life would fall into place. Not right away, of course. I spent a nice long year inside of searing grief, and then another year emerging slowly from that. Slowly beginning to notice men noticing me, and for a moment enjoying that. I dated a bit. I promised myself that at the least I would have a new friend in the one person that I went out with for a while, and that has completely turned out to be true.<br />
<br />
But here’s my revelation in this year that I promised myself release- I’m happy with life the way that it is. I’m here for movie nights with my girls, for meals with my parents, for texts with my sister about books. I love being the one to make all of my own decisions about my house, about my paycheck-these are things that I take for granted now, but that it took time to get used to. <br />
<br />
This time of heightened anxiety in the world has brought to the surface some gunk that I never properly dealt with at the time of my divorce. In the beginning, life was about surviving (truly). There was so much to mitigate then, and now there is space and time and healing and so coming to revelations about what someone breaking your trust and what that has created in its wake- it’s all easier to deal with. And, for me, it’s important that I’m dealing with it on my own. <br />
<br />
Why does any of this matter? I don’t know that it does. But it’s where I am just now. And I sort of want to shout it from the rooftops- just exactly the same way that I felt when I fell in love with Nick Johnson and I wanted the entire world to know. I want the world to know that five years after life fell all to pieces at my feet, I’m feeling independent and strong and at peace. <br />
<br />
Life has worked out just exactly like it was supposed to. Promise.<br />
<br />
<i>I used to be lunatic from your precious face<br />
I used to be woebegone and so restless nights<br />
My aching heart would bleed for you to see<br />
Oh! But now...<br />
(I don't catch myself bouncing home<br />
Whistling buttonhole tunes to make me cry)<br />
<br />
No More "I love you's"<br />
A language is leaving me<br />
No more "I love you's"<br />
A language is leaving me exiled<br />
No more "I love you's"<br />
Changes are shifting me outside the words<br />
-The Lover Speaks</I><br />
joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-9816104840398616962020-05-05T13:42:00.001-07:002020-05-05T13:43:22.415-07:00Walk and Not Run...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XJXkc9oZPu0/XpCNF-nVD3I/AAAAAAAAAt0/rhsgM3vc_K4RhKNNEJ1B-vMOm7VIG0fKgCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/shoop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XJXkc9oZPu0/XpCNF-nVD3I/AAAAAAAAAt0/rhsgM3vc_K4RhKNNEJ1B-vMOm7VIG0fKgCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/shoop.jpg" width="320" height="320" data-original-width="642" data-original-height="642" /></a></div><br />
<br />
It’s Star Wars week and Cinco de Mayo and a terrible lot of goodness here at the Watson Johnson house.<br />
<br />
We are up to <i>The Last Jedi</I> (which I have never seen). Betsy wanted to watch them in actual episode order rather than chronological order and while I was initially very resistant to that idea, I must admit that I have enjoyed watching them in that order. (You simply have to put aside the dialogue and the fact that by the third movie Natalie Portman seems like she is being held hostage to a contract she signed at 18.) <br />
<br />
Being a homebody is a definite asset to this shelter in place lifestyle. The girls and I have settled into a groove of movies and walks and board games. I have gotten Betsy as addicted to <i>Days of our Lives</I> as I was at her age, and there is just something about sharing something with her that I shared with my Grandma West that carves out this niche in my heart that I hope remains forever. <br />
<br />
We have watched all of the music specials (Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood and Lady Gaga and Elton John all from my house- I am HERE. FOR. IT.), the NFL draft (my amazing Buckeyes breaking all the precedents), all the Tik Toks. <br />
<br />
As the complete and total nerd/political junkie that I am, I look forward to watching the governor every day and truly would be down for these briefings long after all of this is over. That combined with Beth dissecting all of the recent Supreme Court opinions on the <i>Pantsuit Politics</I> Patreon feed are settling to my anxious soul. For me, the more information that I have, the better I can process the world around me. <br />
<br />
Life is still anxious and scary and words cannot describe how heavy my heart is for anyone who has lost their life or their job. I can never quite convey how grateful I am for my local grocery store and bank and gas station, for my girls’ teachers for working hard to exist within this strange new boundary, for my co-workers and my friends who check on me and for my family, especially my parents who make dinner for me and the girls every day. How lucky am I?<br />
<br />
Tonight, it’s all the tacos and Aggravation and then I get to see if I can understand who exactly Rey is. <br />
joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-71928149479409379342020-03-26T08:26:00.002-07:002020-03-26T11:42:10.804-07:00Life in the Time of Coronavirus...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uHObPhekzE4/XnzIEaNHKeI/AAAAAAAAAtg/nIntcu9Zmrwc1S5fP6e5KUQopQW1zATugCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/it%2527s%2Bmy%2Blife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uHObPhekzE4/XnzIEaNHKeI/AAAAAAAAAtg/nIntcu9Zmrwc1S5fP6e5KUQopQW1zATugCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/it%2527s%2Bmy%2Blife.jpg" width="320" height="320" data-original-width="642" data-original-height="642" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Just now, the sun is shining, and ABBA is playing though my speakers and I’m feeling light.<br />
<br />
I’m trying to hold to all the good just now. It’s amazing how grateful one can become for seemingly simple pleasures that we mostly take for granted on the good days. Just this past week, I have thought how wonderful it is that we still have trash service. <br />
<br />
I told my therapist that this is me firing on all cylinders- I have experienced my anxiety at this level exactly 3 times now- when Nick was in Iraq, when I lived through my divorce, and just now. It’s interesting, looking back at those times- Nick being in Iraq was the scariest time in my life. I can remember fighting back tears nearly every night as I drove home from work that year, promising myself that I would not allow myself to get accustomed to the idea that he was gone. I insisted to myself that I wouldn’t think of the house as mine, that I wouldn’t experience anything without him that came even close to joy. But, of course, I adjusted to him being gone because your body won’t allow you to live in such a heightened state of panic for long stretches of time. <br />
<br />
I hold that thought now, and remind myself that eventually this (whatever this is) will become normal. <br />
<br />
The girls and I have established a bit of a routine the past two weeks- everyday includes games (most especially endless rounds of <i>Clue</I>), a walk around the loop, and a movie (we take turns picking- Betsy is on a huge Brat Pack binge just now, which seems just about right and thank goodness because Felicity picks things like <i>Angry Birds 2</I>). Weekends are full of books and movies and cleaning-all in my wheelhouse.<br />
<br />
Routines are my lifeblood. Adding in taking my temperature in the morning and watching Mike DeWine at 2 in the afternoon gives me some notion that I’m checking off the boxes of what I’m now responsible for. <br />
<br />
Living with anxiety makes you question always if you are overreacting- after all, that is what anxiety is, being unable to parse out what is an actual worrisome event, and what is not. But this time I’m trying to lean into my anxiety, realizing that there is truly nothing that I can do but follow the advice of people trained in living through an epidemic, praying over bits I can’t control, and holding tight to the notion that eventually this will end.<br />
<br />
Four years ago, no one could have convinced me that I would ever get over Nick leaving. I couldn’t imagine a day of not missing him. I couldn’t even imagine a day of not wishing that my life would just go back to what it used to be. <br />
<br />
I don’t wish that ever now. My life as it is now is ten times better than my life ever, ever was in all of those years that I was (quite happily) married. <br />
<br />
Holding those two contradictions- the notion that I adored being married to Nick Johnson and yet I am a better person divorced from him- those contradictions define who I am. If I have learned nothing else in the past four and a half years it is that your emotions are messy and complicated and they don’t always line up with reality. <br />
<br />
Life just now is scary- I’m scared for my girls, for my parents, for the economy. I have read accounts of people who are sick that frighten me to my core. I worry for the doctors and nurses and what this could look like. I stress over politicians taking measures that I fear could be too little. <br />
<br />
I could be wrong, of course. I pray that I am. In the meantime, I will be so grateful for what I have, and hold tight to the idea that we are all in this together. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-26329503873256333572020-03-16T12:41:00.000-07:002020-03-16T20:22:36.076-07:00Spin Me Out Of Control...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xOOZxjZAzWM/XkRuNYCOrWI/AAAAAAAAAs8/WmnW3c2Co78cYJtZWSTx69Umg_vMZ0n4QCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/karma%2B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xOOZxjZAzWM/XkRuNYCOrWI/AAAAAAAAAs8/WmnW3c2Co78cYJtZWSTx69Umg_vMZ0n4QCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/karma%2B.jpg" width="320" height="320" data-original-width="642" data-original-height="642" /></a></div><br />
<br />
When I chose release as my word for 2020, I didn’t realize the ramifications. 2020 has been filled to the brim with so much feeling and it’s been a long time since I allowed myself to drown inside of what sometimes seems like mountains of emotion. <br />
<br />
(Mixing metaphors…still my thing.)<br />
<br />
When I chose the word release, I meant it in a sort of metaphysical way- like, I'm letting go of the idea that I'm going to understand all the things, or that I'm going to release my grip on my insistence on routine. I wrote things like, "When something slips through your fingers that you held onto much too tightly it takes a long time to forgive yourself for letting it go." That was sort of the gist.<br />
<br />
Instead, the world turned upside down, and the idea of control has slipped from my grasp, perhaps forever.<br />
<br />
I found myself saying to the girls at the bank the other day- people do crazy things when they think they cannot control anything. This blog is proof of that, again and again. <br />
<br />
Everyone having big feelings right now is normal- whether they are trying to prepare, whether they are creating schedules, whether they are rolling their eyes. <br />
<br />
My personal coping mechanisms include watching old movies (the girls and I watched <i>Far and Away</I> yesterday, and they loved it every bit as much as I do, and on Saturday I introduced them to both <i>Ghost</I> and <i>Never Been Kissed</I> and we watched <i>Frozen 2</I>); listening to podcasts- mostly happy, easy listens about books and pop culture; reading (Felicity and I are working through <i>The Westing Game</I>, which I read one time as a kid, but I remember nearly nothing, and Felicity loves a good mystery, so it's terribly fun); and, when I'm almost to a coma with my anxiety, watching HGTV and eating potato chips. <br />
<br />
For the two introverts in our house, this is not a terrible pain. For Felicity, this is harder- she brings her Barbies into my room just to be in the same general vicinity, even if I'm doing something boring. <br />
<br />
As my humble offering to your own sanity, I offer my podcast spreadsheet, complete with my favorite podcasts broken out into how often I listen to each: <br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://drive.google.com/open?id=1z2HU_W9XzaCl5_gRurao2s27Uz3scnFT">Podcast Spreadsheet</a><br />
<br />
If you need something to cheer you up, <i>The Popcast</I> is the best I can point you toward. <i>80s All Over</I> and <i>SSR</I> are also two so high on the list just now- I crave anything from the 1980s/early 1990s like oxygen when I am stressed, and both offer up a balm to my harried soul. <br />
<br />
<br />
I found myself <i>twice</I> this past weekend reaching for my wedding rings, a habit I had long since broken. Stress does strange things, sends your mind to odd places. Things seem scary, but also, I'm not, and never was, in control of this. <br />
<br />
On the other side of that release, we will realize that it was faith carrying us all along.<br />
<br />
<br />
joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-12182422410806151682020-02-11T12:25:00.001-08:002020-02-11T12:31:22.817-08:00He's Always Leaning. Against Stuff...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zN2hw0TUYdE/Xi9PKgVOwZI/AAAAAAAAAsg/49Sb-SrGensR4uTfYeFkU1MEexwKswujQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/girl%2Bin%2Bthe%2Bmovies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zN2hw0TUYdE/Xi9PKgVOwZI/AAAAAAAAAsg/49Sb-SrGensR4uTfYeFkU1MEexwKswujQCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/girl%2Bin%2Bthe%2Bmovies.jpg" width="320" height="320" data-original-width="642" data-original-height="642" /></a></div><br />
<br />
The very best thing about being a mother of a teenager and an almost teenager is revisiting all of my old favorites-favorite books, favorite movies, favorite television shows. The girls and I live every day basically like it’s about 1995, and it is the complete bomb.<br />
<br />
We just wrapped up watching <i>My So-Called Life</I> and it was just what my heart needed entering this 2020. It took a minute for the girls to fall in love, but Rickie was their way in (of course) and by the heart shattering ending they were both as devastated as their mother was upon her first encounter with Angela Chase leaving Brian Krakow on that bike in the road.<br />
<br />
Betsy repeatedly asked Felicity and me, “Who would you pick-Brian or Jordan?” If you know my girls at all in real life, then you know that Felicity without hesitation always said Jordan, and Betsy picked Brian every single time, always bemoaning the idea that anyone in the world would have their head turned by Jordan.<br />
<br />
My answer every time was, of course, I can’t choose between them. I love Brian Krakow with every beat of my heart, his awkward demeanor only making me adore him more. And then Jordan Catalano reaches for Angela’s hand in the single most romantic gesture I’ve ever encountered in 41 years of watching rom coms and I know, without a doubt, that I would have left Brian behind too. I’ve never encountered a creature as much of a kindred spirit to my own self as Angela Chase. (I watched <i>My So-Called Life</I> on its original run on ABC, I chose it over <i>Friends</I> in its first season, confounding my friends who only discovered it later on MTV.)<br />
<br />
Anyway, much as I would love to think that if love ever finds me again, I’ll have the sense to see Brian Krakow for who he truly is, I have a feeling my heart is forever doomed for the Jordan Catalanos of the world.<br />
<br />
<b>Things I’m Loving:</B><br />
<br />
<b><i>Inside Out</I> by Demi Moore</B><br />
<br />
I adore a good memoir and this is one I will carry on about forever. It’s deep and meaningful and honest. Demi is open about each of her marriages and exactly how they came apart at the seams; she is vulnerable about what it feels like to be hurt by someone that you thought loved you more than anything. I’m forever grateful whenever I grab onto anything- a poem, a song, a self help book, whatever- that makes me feel seen, that makes my particular journey seem not so out of the realm. <br />
<br />
<i><b>Marriage Story</I></B><br />
<br />
Speaking of out of the realm, I purposely avoided this movie for a minute because I knew that it would feel different- the experience of two people wanting out of a marriage and fighting through lawyers, that wasn’t ever my experience- but of course, good movies make you feel for people in situations different than your own. I love Adam Driver and performances like this one are why. As for Scarlett Johansson, she is not and will never be my favorite, but she is a talented actress and it is roles like this one that chip away at my resistance to her. <br />
<br />
For now, the girls and I are watching <i>The Torkelsons</I> and falling in love with Riley Roberts and I’m wishing, as always, that this season of our lives would never, ever end. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RxQLVAS6Jik/Xjxx08L497I/AAAAAAAAAs0/yP8CgilEul0vbgBklaSGVoieml9expjuwCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/my%2Bso%2Bcalled%2Blife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RxQLVAS6Jik/Xjxx08L497I/AAAAAAAAAs0/yP8CgilEul0vbgBklaSGVoieml9expjuwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/my%2Bso%2Bcalled%2Blife.jpg" width="152" height="320" data-original-width="758" data-original-height="1600" /></a></div><br />
<br />
joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-8488768080648857972020-01-23T12:38:00.002-08:002020-01-23T16:29:35.868-08:00The Space In Between...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h34Otqj84aU/XhN_SExchhI/AAAAAAAAAr4/QL7hKRDLHxEEPcHwAABHmBaoPAKDgeIvQCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/laymedown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h34Otqj84aU/XhN_SExchhI/AAAAAAAAAr4/QL7hKRDLHxEEPcHwAABHmBaoPAKDgeIvQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/laymedown.jpg" width="320" height="320" data-original-width="642" data-original-height="642" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Oh my goodness. All the things, right?<br />
<br />
2020 has, thus far, been full of a lot of feelings. Now, I do tend to care about people that I have never actually met to an absurd degree (and, importantly, I never hope to meet them in real life-that episode of <i>Growing Pains</I> where Ben is horribly disappointed by the rock star that he has idolized convinced me long ago that I don’t really want to meet anyone famous, but I do care deeply and to my core about a lot of people that I do not actually know).<br />
<br />
2020 feels a little like the world has cracked open to me.<br />
<br />
<b>Things I’m Loving Lately:</B><br />
<br />
<b><i><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/01/23/podcasts/the-daily/harry-and-meghan-markle.html">Why Megxit Matters</A></B></I><br />
This episode of the Daily is a wonderful blend of the royal family’s recent drama, the British public’s reaction to it, and why any of it matters.<br />
<br />
When I was in high school, I was lucky enough to go to Europe and the tour guide that we had for the trip was British. I always sat at the front of the tour bus (I’m a geek like that) and she would talk to those of us toward the front, and one day we asked her about the opinions of the British people toward Diana. This would have been 1996, so Diana was alive but divorced from Charles. She told us that the British people were more in favor of Charles and found Diana to be somewhat lacking in decorum. As someone who was a huge fan of Diana, I realized right then that Americans were profoundly different than the British in how we view celebrity and royalty and such. <br />
<br />
I still think all of that is true.<br />
<br />
For me, though, I used to pray hard for William and Harry every night. I cried when Matt Lauer talked about how lucky they were to have each other as they walked into William’s wedding. I adore Queen Elizabeth and have read far too many books about her. I have far too many feelings about Harry and Megan, but I know that my American prism of looking at this is totally different from the British outlook, and that Brexit is days away, and the world is upside down for lots of reasons.<br />
<br />
<b><i><a href="http://www.youmustrememberthispodcast.com/episodes">You Must Remember This: Six Degrees of Song of the South</A></B></I><br />
<br />
I have never seen <i>Song of the South</I>, though I do have a cassette tape and a book, one of those read-along books from when I was a kid in the 1980s, that is about a piece of the Brer Rabbit story. This is a behind the scenes look at <i>Song of the South</I> and it is engrossing-it walks through all of the bits from the minstrel elements of the story, the career of Hattie McDaniel, and the creation of Splash Mountain. I binged most of this on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day and it was a most illuminating way to spend that holiday.<br />
<br />
<b><i><a href="https://nyti.ms/2twB0cH">Before Sunrise: The Making of an Indie Classic</A></I></B><br />
<br />
This oral history of the making of <i>Before Sunrise</I> is fascinating. <i>Before Sunrise</I> is one of my most favorite movies ever and I’ve watched it so many times I can recite a lot of the dialogue. <i>Before Sunset</I> and <i>Before Midnight</I> I’ve only seen one time each-I did not care for <i>Before Sunset</I> but loved <i>Before Midnight</I> and that was likely due to circumstances in my own life at the time, so they would need a rewatch to make a definitive statement. But I loved this look at the way that this film came into being, and how they had to film things that, of course, seem natural and brilliant and exactly what my seventeen-year-old self thought that traveling in Europe would be like. <br />
<br />
<br />
The girls and I have spent a large part of January talking about Australia and watching <i>My So-Called Life</I> and learning about impeachment and the democratic process (they super love that). We have been blessed with a lot of time together and a last minute cousin weekend and all the fun things. It's been blissful (being with the girls, I mean, not the wildfires).<br />
<br />
And yes, I'm a bit obsessed with Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt and the grasping of the hand. And yes, I know that it may be publicity and that it says something about this man who rather callously left his wife and who seems to be, while a fine actor, a bit of a mess of a person. But of all the people that I looked to when I lived though my divorce, through the hardest days of not being able to function, the person that I looked to was Jennifer Aniston, as crazy as I know that sounds. Her words at the time, "I love Brad; I really love him. I will love him for the rest of my life. I don't regret any of it, and I'm not going to beat myself up about it." Those words hid themselves inside of my heart, and even though I knew that maybe she didn't even mean it anymore, she said it out loud once, and so it was okay-it was okay to be divorcing someone and still love them and feel confused and crazy.<br />
<br />
And I have moved far away from that person that I was then, and I know that she has too. But I'm happy for her if there remains something of that love, even if it's only a moment at an awards show that the world got to glimpse. <br />
<br />
<i>"Isn't everything we do in life a way to be loved a little more?"<br />
-Celine, Before Sunrise</I><br />
joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-21034209056304937982020-01-07T13:40:00.000-08:002020-01-08T12:35:00.887-08:00The Memories Were Lost Long Ago...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Icuwcvmp-YQ/XhN-vYn8HII/AAAAAAAAArk/j3noMMNFlycQl-tYSojc82fp1pQoE8QzgCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/pouryourloveout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Icuwcvmp-YQ/XhN-vYn8HII/AAAAAAAAArk/j3noMMNFlycQl-tYSojc82fp1pQoE8QzgCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/pouryourloveout.jpg" width="320" height="320" data-original-width="642" data-original-height="642" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Epiphany is always one of my favorite days of the year.<br />
<br />
We always celebrate our Wise Men finally making their way to the manger scene with an epiphany cake and blessing the house. All of life feels shiny and new. It’s most wonderful.<br />
<br />
The past few weeks of turning 41, entering a new decade-all of it has felt quite blissful. The past two decades of my life have been marked by such amazing highs and such lowest of lows-I’m excited that the past year was such an even keel in my life, and I’m hoping for that to continue in this new decade.<br />
<br />
This past year has forced me to make some peace with a few things-the fact that no matter how outgoing I manage to make myself become, I am still an introvert at heart, and I still need down time to process the world around me; the fact that being “in my 40s” does indeed feel different than my 30s, in ways both welcome and not especially; and that, while I wholly admit that I have a problem with caffeine, I am also never really going to do anything about it.<br />
<br />
<br />
On the other hand, I have learned that I can prioritize laying in bed all day when I want to, that any bad mood can be helped by a snack and a nap, and that I truly am just a complicated house plant that needs more water than I ever think I need. <br />
<br />
As usual, my weekend was filled with movies and books (all rereads because that comfort is what my heart is yearning for at the moment). I introduced the girls to <i>Forrest Gump</I> just in time for them to see Tom Hanks receive his Cecil B. DeMille award (I told them that to truly appreciate Tom Hanks, we need to watch <i>Bosom Buddies</I>). But for now, I am on the precipice of introducing them to my 90s dramas-first up, <i>My So-Called Life</I>, and then <i>Freaks and Geeks</I> and <i>Dawson's Creek</I> (they love <i>The Mighty Ducks</I> so I kind of can't wait to see their reaction to Mr. Pacey Witter). <br />
<br />
In the meantime, though, all the movies. Betsy saw <i>The Rise of Skywalker</I> of course with her father, and Felicity saw <i>Jumanji 2</I> with her stopmom. Therefore, we saw <i>Little Women</I> and <i>Cats</I> (at Betsy's insistence). <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<b><i>Little Women</B></I><br />
<br />
I spent my New Year's Eve rereading <i>Little Women</I>, as the clearly super cool party girl that I am. This movie captured the book in ways that I simply did not think was possible. By beginning the story at the end, Greta Gerwig finally solves the never ending problem of Jo marrying anyone at all, and especially the problem of that person not being Laurie. Amy has a storyline of an adult woman making somewhat sensible choices, colored by her childhood of being the put upon youngest sister. Concentrating Meg's storyline on her vanity gives her more to do than just mother hen. And my dear Beth is Beth. <br />
<br />
"Women have minds and souls as well as just hearts, and they've got ambition and talent as well as just beauty. And I'm sick of people saying that love is all a woman is fit for. I'm so sick of it! But-<i>I'm so lonely</I>!"<br />
<br />
All of that. I didn't know how much I needed Jo to say all of that.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vK2J-Q2hpvE/XhOHbKBrutI/AAAAAAAAAsI/lTQhJmcxMDwxjNWSbBcoAOxX1DQreFTLwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Cats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vK2J-Q2hpvE/XhOHbKBrutI/AAAAAAAAAsI/lTQhJmcxMDwxjNWSbBcoAOxX1DQreFTLwCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/Cats.jpg" width="211" height="320" data-original-width="1055" data-original-height="1600" /></a></div><br />
<b><i>Cats</B></I><br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Cats</I>. What can I say? It's not as terrible as all that, if you go in knowing that it is a <i>musical</I> about <i>cats</I>. It's weird because that's a weird thing. The music, though, is mostly lovely-I especially like the new Taylor Swift/Andrew Lloyd Webber penned "Beautiful Ghosts." I love James Corden, even if that is a dorky thing to admit, and I think he's funny here. There were several young children at the show the girls and I went to and let me be firm, <i>this is not a movie for little kids</I>. It is a confusing plot for a grownup. They will be bored. (My biggest pet peeve in the movie theater is whiny children.)<br />
<br />
So, Christmastide has come and gone and into the routine we go. I'm so jazzed for 2020. It just may be the best year yet.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>"And so maybe my home isn't what I had known<br />
What I thought it would be<br />
But I feel so alive with these phantoms of night<br />
And I know that this life isn't safe but it's wild and it's free"<br />
-Beautiful Ghosts </I><br />
<br />
<br />
joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7405095721449535561.post-10695532299975915462019-12-30T12:54:00.001-08:002019-12-30T12:54:57.536-08:00Fall Into This Circumstance...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c51EBZ0woeY/Xd6rTqNwipI/AAAAAAAAArQ/x4j5tzLfjy0f_zXi9weeA6M5u1J4HpBeQCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/body%2Btalks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c51EBZ0woeY/Xd6rTqNwipI/AAAAAAAAArQ/x4j5tzLfjy0f_zXi9weeA6M5u1J4HpBeQCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/body%2Btalks.jpg" width="320" height="320" data-original-width="642" data-original-height="642" /></a></div><br />
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<br />
How excited am I for 2020 to finally get here? I feel like I haven’t been this excited for a new year since 1999, just because I liked saying that we were going to party like it’s 1999.<br />
<br />
Twenty years on, life seems to have taken all of these turns and shifts and bends in the road to deposit me precisely back at who I was at 21. Insatiably curious, desperate to do <I>all the things</I>, and feeling like all of life had finally turned out like I wanted it to. College was a long, hard road of lonely for me-in all of my years at Muskingum, I had exactly one good friend, and mostly got along much better with my professors than my classmates-but by 1999, I didn’t care. I was “becoming who I was to be” (a quote that I stole from my favorite teacher of all time, Mr. Frank) and all I did was read and write and watch a lot of movies. <br />
<br />
The past four years have circled me back to that same girl. <br />
<br />
4 years ago, staring down the very last few weeks of my marriage before my divorce was final, I had a definite idea of what I wanted to happen- I wanted to let go of the past, to move forward in some healthy way, and to eventually meet the actual , true love of my life that surely God intended me to meet. To my mind, the only way that any of the pain of my marriage ending would be worth it in the end would be for me to realize that Nick had somehow been all wrong for me all along. The truth, I told myself, would feel so much more amazing for having lived so long with what turned out to be a lie.<br />
<br />
Of course, that hasn’t been how any of this has worked out. <br />
<br />
The only person that I’ve gotten to know better in the past 4 years is that girl that I left behind at 21. When Nick came along, I (quite naturally, I think) sort of shoved that girl aside. My life became about creating this family that I had always, always wanted. My life from 21 to 36 was consumed by Nick and the girls and being the mother and wife that I felt that they needed. When people talk about music or movies or <I>anything</I> from 2000 until 2015, I have little recollection of it. My life was made up of tummy time and <I>Sesame Street</I>, breastfeeding and precious little sleep. <br />
<br />
I’m grateful every single day that I met Nick Johnson and I mean that with every beat of my heart. <br />
<br />
But I’m also grateful every single day that I have found that girl that I let go of at 21. I’m grateful to have all of this time to read and write and watch all of the movies. To be my own best company. To just be alone, and have it be enough. <br />
<br />
My word for 2020 is release. <br />
<br />
We’ll see how it goes.<br />
<br />
<br />
<I>"It's gotta be a strange twist of fate<br />
Telling me that heaven can wait<br />
Oh, I'm gonna get it right this time<br />
Life doesn't mean a thing<br />
Without the love you bring<br />
Love is what we've found<br />
The second time around."<br />
-Olivia Newton-John</I>joy43762http://www.blogger.com/profile/12293096979136014923noreply@blogger.com0