Daffodil Cookies and Disciplined Days

Our simple Easter dinner was lovely, if I may say so.  I somehow got the grocery store's last pot of miniature Daffodils for it, my Daffodil sugar cookies--and even their trumpets--kept their shape as they baked, the blackberry dessert I'd concocted for myself turned out better than expected, and the Lilac tablecloth I'd treated myself to for the occasion, since I love Lilacs and never see them on anything, looked as pretty on the table as I'd hoped it would.  The actual meal was good too, yes,  :) but the fun part of dinners for me is playing with the desserts and the table. 

My own Easter dessert was a dish of Greek yogurt mixed with crushed and whole blackberries, cream cheese, and edible flowers.  This was my favorite thing I ate yesterday. 

Saturday marked ten months on the job for me, and I can say now that it ended up taking me all of the first nine months on the job to get into new routines and have life feel manageable again.  That's a long time to feel discombobulated on a near-daily basis, especially for someone so appreciative of order and organization.  I get up every day at 7 am now, despite working until midnight some nights.  The extra hours in the morning are the hours that were missing before that now allow me to get things done, and although I would have guessed that this change in routine would make me more tired every day, I feel better than I have in ages and am only sleepy when I finally go to bed, as opposed to the day-in and day-out fatigued-right-to-my-bones that I felt every night (and day, for that matter) even through January.  I eliminated caffeine and sugar from my diet back in February and have been falling asleep quickly, for the very first time in my life, and sleeping like a rock.  Despite still not liking it, I drink about a gallon of water a day now.  Likely because of eating better and sleeping better, I've lost seventeen pounds so far this year, as well.  I used to be hit-or-miss with all the vitamins and supplements I take each day, but the so-obvious-I-didn't-think-of-it solution of a daily pill-organizer/container has made it easier for me to remember to take every pill every day, and there's something satisfying to me each morning about seeing that day's pills become a blank compartment after I've taken them with my glass of almond milk.  This is such a slight change in routine, but it's one that makes me feel better and more on-top-of-things every single day--and minutes after starting each day--so it's worth noting.  I still walk to and from work as often as I can--the nights I work until midnight, I catch the bus--but I also still need to work my longer walks and some writing-time into my mornings.  And I will.  Those will be two of this spring's changes-for-the-better, after having spent the winter focusing on other ones.   

Home itself has been getting sorted out too.  I cook ahead more often now, to make the nights I work until 6, 7, or 8 pm easier.  I'm in the process of creating a go-to grocery/shopping list of all the things I ever buy so I can just make copies of it and circle what I need on each copy for each trip.  (A friend's dad used to do this back when she and I were in the sixth grade, and now at almost 41, I see the brilliance of the idea that struck me as over-the-top at 11.)  :)  I have been wearing a uniform of sorts to work instead of real outfits, since I have that option at my workplace, and not having to choose clothes, shoes, and jewelry has freed up a lot of my pre-work time.  I've begun the past few months with not only my usual daily to-do lists, but also weekly and monthly ones.  I still need to come up with a better laundry system--it may likely end up being something as simple as "Tuesday is always Laundry Day, no matter my work schedule."  We'll see.  I  began April yesterday knowing I had met every goal on my March list, which felt incredible.  

My latest project has been to create--finally, after years of planning it--a writing corner for myself in the apartment.  In February, I bought a used table on craigslist to transform into a corner-desk.  A few weeks ago, I finished re-papering--really "re-fabric-ing"--one of that corner's walls and found a lamp for what will be my desk.  Saturday evening, I finished sawing the table into the wedge-shape I need.  Next is to put the table/desk back together, attach some type of shelf to its top as a sort of hutch, to paint it all, and to redo the chair I'll be using with it.  Finishing the entire corner is one of this month's projects, and I can already tell it's going to be my favorite spot in the apartment.  

Here's to new routines and better days.  Happy spring to you all.  ♥

The Third Day of the Year

'A tranquil but determined start to the new year here.  I had a good bit of time off from work these past few weeks, and I used a lot of it to get some things organized and reorganized in this little apartment.  I have long thought of home-care and decorating and what I call puttering around--fluffing up the throw pillows, changing out the tablecloth, adding the fresh flowers to canning jars, hanging the new-old paintings and embroidered pieces sooner rather than later, refolding the granny square afghans on the backs of the chairs, taking oranges out of their mesh bag and adding them to the green stoneware bowl, even just putting the dishes back where they belong and arranging them neatly on their shelves--as hobbies or pastimes or interests, but I have realized this past month that for me, these little activities are actually a form of self-care.  Eureka!  When we see a woman who has made the extra effort to dress especially nicely, paint her nails, look out for her health and fitness, or [insert-your-own-examples], we think "There is someone who values herself and makes the time to take good care of herself," and I realize now that similarly, when my home is orderly and sweet and cheerful, I feel those things about myself.  When my home is orderly and sweet and cheerful, I feel those things about myself.  Ahhhh!  All the little "puttering around" tasks, then, aren't really chores at all, then, just as I would no longer think of them as one of my hobbies either.  I see now that they're more vital for me than that.  These are ways I take care of myself, I have just learned at 40-and-a-half-years-old:  I go for long walks, I take my vitamins, I try to eat and drink well, I use sunscreen year-round, I pray, I read, I cuddle with Stuffed, I show my love to my loves ones, I slather on lotion, I rest when needed, and I keep an organized and inviting home.  

On that front, I have tackled the bathroom cupboard--and after almost seven years of living here, have wrestled it into submission.  It is about seven feet tall and its three shelves are two feet deep but only twelve inches wide.  Without the shelves, it would be the perfectly-proportioned space to store a broom and mop, but . . .I think I've finally figured it out.  And now hanging vertically on the inside of its door are three narrow cork bulletin boards, my work-schedule, a list of that month's birthdays and other need-to-send-a-card-or-otherwise-mark-a-special-day occasions, a small pink dry-erase board I'm using as my weekly food diary, a basket for pens and dry-erase markers, Stuffed's litter-scoop, a dust pan and broom, and a six-inch-wide calendar I use to record my daily walks.  'A good use now, and better late than never, of that seven-foot tall-but-only-twelve-inch-wide door too.  Take that, Ill-Proportioned Closet.  That alone has made home and life feel so much tidier.  It's What-I-Need-to-Remember Central, and it's a breath of fresh air for this lifelong list-maker:  I have it all in one spot now but tucked away on the back of the door so it doesn't "read" as clutter.  That's been just one improvement lately.  And now that I actually like the cupboard, I want to doll it up even more by papering the small wall-spaces inside the cupboard. . .give it a little more love.  Just like that, it's become a time-saver, a better use of space, and features a door I actually enjoy opening and seeing what's behind.  I myself feel so much more on top of things even with this one project, is the point.  And now that I have a better perspective on it all, I look forward to taking on everything else that's on my around-the-apartment to-do list.  Those to-do items no longer feel like problems or chores ahead of me, but instead opportunities and possibilities.  How good this all feels after watching everything fall apart around here the first seven months with this new job and new work schedule!  Ohhhhh, I love learning.  I love figuring it out.  Life already feels so much better, and 2018 is looking so much brighter.  ♥

You should sit in meditation for twenty minutes every day - unless you're too busy; then you should sit for an hour. ~ Sukhraj S. Dhillon

Well, today has been a relaxing day off.  Really relaxing.  Really off.  I slept in.  The first two Christmas cards came in today's mail, Mom's and Aunt Heidi's.  Mike had the day off too but went out to breakfast alone and then ran a few errands downtown, so I had most of six hours to myself.  I added the miniature pink gingham wreath to my little cottage planter, per somewhat new tradition.  I thought of one last little gift for my older brother and his family and ordered it with just enough time left for it to arrive by next weekend's early Christmas.  While watching The Shawshank Redemption, I touched up a few Christmas tree ornaments with some fresh paint, glue, and faux snow before rehanging them.  I made this year's batch of salt-dough ornaments while watching About a Boy, another of my favorite movies (and books).  (And let us pause here to admire the colorful holiday table-scene here:

Ah!  Love!  Every time I watch this--and it's become another Christmastime tradition for me--I remember that I want to look for a simple candelabra like that one, and then forget until the following Christmas.  Maybe 2018 will be Candelabra Year.)  I had made my last big bunch of salt-dough ornaments in 2011--

--but decorated the tree this year in just pink and white so wanted some pink candy canes and hearts instead of all these rainbow-hued ones.  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand just now taken out of the oven and cooling a bit before I add them to the tree, then, is this afternoon's batch, along with a couple hearts formed from the last little scraps of dough.  (Salt-dough:  1/2 cup salt, 1/2 cup water, 1 cup flour-plus-more-mixed-in-as-needed. . .baked at 250°-ish for about four hours.  Katy Elliot's recipe--and are the snowflake ornaments in her post not the loveliest!--is the one I started with in 2011.  I usually need more flour than her recipe calls for, and I bake mine at a higher temp, but my recipe is otherwise her recipe--and a good one it is.)  Quite soon, then, the new candy canes and hearts will get hooked onto tree boughs and I'll loop some green thread or fishing line through the hearts to hang them and will declare the tree done. 

I'm off tomorrow too and am trying to talk Mike into a game of Trivial Pursuit.  No takers yet, but I got a "We'll see" upon last mention, at least.  'Am at some point re-hanging the gingham apron "curtain" that has a home over the air conditioner now that winter's here. 

I still have my cards to get ready to mail, despite Wednesday night's best intentions, but returning to my book sounds better than cards and envelopes.  Sometime this weekend, I'll take some Christmas tree pictures.  Ahhh, well, one picture for now, because I just added the salt-dough pieces and this is all making me very happy.

Sweet little tree.  ♥  After all the stress and chaos this week, this Christmas tree is actually my favorite one ever.  Go figure.  Thank you all for your kind words on the ol' balancing act.  Maybe everything just had to get worse here before I could figure out how to make it better. 

Looking for Santa (and Some Smarter Ways)

How sweet is Stuffed, staring at the empty Christmas stocking!  ♥  Or maybe he's looking at his own.  :)  This feels like the latest I've ever put up the tree, but it likely just seems that way because so much feels so out of control lately.  Tonight, right after I hit "Publish" on this and pour myself another iced tea, will be a feverish night of Decorate-the-Tree-and-Get-All-the-Holiday-Cards Ready-to-Mail-in-the-Morning.  Because of my wacky work schedule, I usually go to bed around 2 am, but I'm determined to get all this done tonight even if it means I climb into bed later than that.  I just can't handle having More!  Big!  Things!  hanging over my head another day.  I am still (forever and always) behind on laundry.  I have to finish Christmas shopping:  My big family Christmas is next weekend, the 15th/16th, since that's when I can get home for it, so I have to get it all done this next week.  Shoot, I still have to wash tonight's supper dishes.  Double-shoot, for that matter, I still have to put away the leaf and snowflake cookie cutters and frosting bags I used making my desserts on Thanksgiving.  (Containers of sprinkles, cookie cutters, food coloring tubes, sugars, etc. all need to be rearranged and re-fit into little tins and jars for these to be put away properly, but in the time it's taken to write this sentence, I could have gotten it at least half-done.)  And make that a triple-shoot:  I still have to put together the two bookshelves I mentioned in October.  There are just So!  Many!  little tasks like that to be done, is the issue, and I'm always exhausted, and in order to accomplish anything besides all the usual everyday chores, I either have to go to bed too late or force myself to start my day too early, and that's not  sustainable for long.  (That my writing and walking--and of course, running--have fallen by the wayside lately is almost more distressing than all the rest of this combined.)  And there are bigger to-do items too, which take more energy and/or a real chunk of time carved-out, and so it all falls further apart.  There are in-person bank errands to run, and student loan nonsense to sort-out and deal with, a new photo to be taken for my driver's license. . . .The lists are all long ones.  This is the first Christmas that I think I would have happily skipped both putting up a tree and sending cards--it's all just so much extra work and feels like a hassle this year--but I don't want to ruin Christmas for Mike, and I know myself well enough to know that maybe I would feel even worse, and life would feel even more out of control, if I had to look back on December knowing I didn't manage the tree or cards.  Everything that had been stored in the corner where the newly-put-up tree is, is now scattered throughout our tiny one-bedroom apartment, and the clutter--or THE CLUTTER (CLUTTER CLUTTER CLUTTER), since I say that word in a booming echo like enraged Saruman bellowing into the snowstorm--

--is driving me crazy/even more crazy, especially since everything-that-had-been-in-the-current-tree-corner-and-that-is-now-scattered-all-over was only in the current tree-corner because I had to move it from the hall closet to the corner in May when I turned the hall closet into the spot for my work-wardrobe.  I still haven't found a new spot for any of these things--but doing so was/is ON MY LIST!  Bwah ha ha!--so the fact that everything's now been shuffled around AGAIN just makes me want to give up and live in a hotel awhile.  This one, please!  

Add a pitcher of flowers, my journal, pens, and a stack of books, and fill the mini-fridge with iced tea for me, and I'M THERE, I tell you.  I'M THERE.  I hate clutter.  I hate clutter.  I am here surrounded by it tonight, though, and I am signing off to attempt the nightly slaying of a little more of it.  I am off both Friday and Saturday, is what I am holding onto in this regard tonight, and I can spend them reading in my chair with Stuffed, content knowing my cards are already are their way to everyone while the tree lights and decorations charm me from across the (I swear, I swear, if I have to stay up ALL NIGHT TONIGHT) organized and tidy apartment.  That will make me feel better for December, but I need to figure out some new and better ways moving forward because the schedules and routines that worked for me the seven years I had my now-old job are clearly just not the right ones anymore.  Alas. 

 

 
 

 


 
Oh, to have this cozy and tidy little home again!  Well, I had four days off every week with my old job, since all my hours were squashed into three loooong shifts before, so that made a huge difference.  And the hours themselves were quite different and allowed me to be home at times I could do noisy things like vacuuming, moving boxes and furniture around to reorganize things, clanking dishes together while washing them and putting them away, running up and down the three flights of stairs from our apartment to the basement to do laundry, etc. all without fear of waking Mike or any neighbors.  That made a difference too.  And I used to leave for work and return home from work at the same time every shift I worked, and I can no longer say that either.  Sometimes I get home from work at 6 pm now, but usually, it's 12:30 in the morning.  Other times, 11 pm.  Today's shift was supposed to have ended at 5:15 but saw me leaving at 6:05.  This is the job I had wanted for so long, though, and I am determined to make it work without letting everything else suffer.  I want some peace and organization and routine back.  I will get there again, I think, but it's going to take some real doing.  And realizing--really understanding now--that all the new jobs in my future will require that I figure out all new ways and routines to make them work too--has been eye-opening, indeed.  Ah, the constant adjustments and readjustments needed to make life run smoothly.  Onward and upward, and all that jazz, then, because I'm not climbing into bed every night of 2018 feeling like I just slid into home plate in a kick-up of dust (and to-do lists). 

Back from the Beach

I am grateful as all get-out to be able to say that I've just returned from an impromptu trip to the beach.  I planned a short getaway to Ocean City, Maryland--my family's annual summer vacation spot when I was a kid--the week before leaving, which is to say I ended up making the trip with very little money and just a shoulder-bag of a few belongings, and it was perfect and just what I needed.  ♥

No matter how much I travel, I can't imagine loving any place more than I love Ocean City, since the nostalgia of it is so dear to me.  My older brother and I were still the only kids in the family the first time we ever went.  My younger brother was barely ten the last time we were all there together.  My parents were still both healthy enough back then to run on the boardwalk every morning.  I brought my Cabbage Patch Kid in her pink bikini-outfit one summer and spent another summer imagining I was wowing everyone walking along the boardwalk as I did gymnastics on the front lawn outside our motel, doing one-handed cartwheels so I could hold my t-shirt down while I flipped.  Ocean City is Dad in his thirties and forties.  Ocean City is Mom in a bikini.  Ocean City is my Older Brother's arrival at the beach wearing striped tube socks almost up to his knees.  Ocean City is Younger Brother's rubbing sand into his eyes the first time my mom ever set him down in it, forcing us to forgo the beach awhile longer to find the nearest drugstore for eye-drops.   Ocean City is Dad's exasperatedly forcing me, year after year, to try the various types of seafood that everyone else would devour--"You might like it this year!  You don't know!"  (I did know.  Phillips Crab House on Atlantic makes incredible potato salad that a girl can fill up on, I can report; A bucket of Thrasher's French Fries is also a meal unto itself, and the Paul Revere Smorgasbord offers fixings for a turkey dinner.)  Ocean City is a boy staring at me in my bathing suit for the first time.  Ocean City is my helping Mom choose the perfect postcard for Papa and Grandma back home in Pennsylvania.  Ocean City is my wondering if anyone will ever feel about me the way Peter Cetera is singing about in "Glory of Love" on the radio while our car is crossing the seemingly-never-ending Chesapeake Bay Bridge.  Ocean City is my collecting a gallon-jug of soft beach-sand for my friend Sommer since she's asked me to bring some home for her to use with craft projects.  I can laugh and choke up at an almost infinite number of Ocean City memories.  And everyone but me had made it back to the beach in the many years since we all last went together as a family, for their vacations and anniversaries, and I have ached for it and missed it like it was a person.  Last week, I'd waited long enough and decided to throw some money at the problem, as they say, and I planned a getaway. 

By Tuesday evening, then, I was finally--FINALLY!--there again.  ♥  I felt weepy the first moment I smelled the salt water, I cried as I stepped back onto the boardwalk, I choked up when I caught my first glimpse of the ocean from the boardwalk, I cried off and on as I walked along it to get to my motel--one of the ones we would stay at when I was a kid, of course--I cried while sliding open my room's balcony door to listen to the surf.  The woods in the fall and Ocean City at any time are Heaven on Earth to me.  I didn't take a minute of my time at the beach this week for granted. 

I spent my twenties struggling through years of college and grad school, much-hated jobs and hard times without jobs, bouts of depression, a lack of bravery that repeatedly hurt me more than playing things safe ever helped me,  deaths and other losses, so many things that didn't work out in just about every aspect of my life, a breakup that I let keep me worked-over years longer than I should have, weight gain, giving up my apartment to move back in with my parents, and ohhhhhhhhh!  just feeling so lost and screwed-up in so many ways.  Jauntily heading off to Ocean City, or much of anywhere else, was just not in the cards for me for so long.  And then I spent my thirties catching up in all kinds of ways.  As I've told my mom, everything that made life hard for me for so long is exactly what makes all The Good and The Sweet and The Beautiful so precious to me now.  This was my first trip to "my" beach in twenty-three years.  The picture below is the first I took of myself my first morning there this week, and my gratitude in it is palpable.  Ocean City!  My heart!  ♥

As I mentioned when I turned forty in May, I am getting better about making self-care a real priority, and remembering to do so remains one of my goals for the year(s) ahead.  I spent Wednesday evening drinking glass after glass of iced tea on my balcony while watching the seagulls and the tide, and that time was a balm for the soul.  There was an ice cream cone and some pizza this week too, but also a good afternoon nap with the balcony door open, long walks up and down the boardwalk and along the shore, a gorgeous fruit salad for lunch and another salad for supper, so many cups of water, and all my usual vitamins and sunscreen-slatherings and prayers.  May my forties be a colossal "Thank You" and "I Get It" after all the Mister-Toad's-Wild-Ride Years.  And may they find me--please--iced tea in-hand at the beach many, many more times.  This is good for me, and it's not a waste of money, and I deserve it as much as anyone else.  (Repeat as needed.)  I finally understand this now, and I don't want to forget again.    I have always been too hard on myself, but I am slowly changing for the better.  Live and learn.  And book a room with a balcony.  :) 

This is forty.  :)  ♥

Save my spot, Ocean City.  I am already planning and saving to get back to you again next year.  

♥