Ennui

I'm in a bit of a funk. The blahs. The doldrums, if you will. There's a restlessness that, if you could see it, would look like someone trying to Houdini their way out of a straightjacket under cover of a wet wool blanket. I want to ditch everything and go live in a tropical paradise with a hammock in the indoor/outdoor livingroom. I want to pull a Peter Gibbons and stop going to my job. Not quit, just not go anymore. Or show up just to do things my way and tell Mr. TPS Reports to suck it, with "Damn it Feels Good to be a Gangsta" playing in the background. (Too much?)

Maybe this is all just because it's January and I hate January because it's still winter. Maybe it's the fact that I am being strangled to mental death by layers and layers of bureaucracy and I feel like nothing I drag ass out of bed at 6:00 a.m. to do every day is in any way measurable or definable or tangible. I feel a tremendous need to do things my own way, but also a tremendous, suffocating exhaustion that makes it hard for me to act. Right now I feel like nothing I'm doing is allowing me to shine, and I am shiny, dammit! At least, I used to be.

I want to do something new. I want to create something or make something or at least just contribute in some recognizable way. I want to feel good at what I'm doing and know that I'm good at it because it is well suited to my abilities and to me as a person. Right now I would happily be a fabulous housewife or a really good waitress if it would mean that I had found my groove again.

Hibernation

I keep thinking of things I want to post about, and then when I get a chance to post, I can't remember what I was thinking about. But that's not conversation, is it?

We've been pretty housebound since Christmas, going out as we have to for school and work and then scurrying home again to the warm fire and layers of soft, comfy clothes. I've been making soup as often as I can get away with it in my soup-ambivalent household, crocheting and learning more about ways to use that new skill on the internet. Come the apocalypse, I will be keping everyone's heads warm. I am dying to unravel an old sweater or something so I can start building a reclaimed yarn stash. (What is happening to me?!) I have been sort of plodding through The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter off and on since Thanksgiving, but my new craftiness has seriously cut into my reading time. That's partly because I decided to make a bunch of Christmas gifts, and partly because the book is good but just not particularly compelling to me at the moment. I decided to go ahead and start reading the book I got for Christmas, A Long, Long Time Ago and Essentially True. I'm only a few chapters into it, but I like it. It reminds me of History of Love, which I adored. I've been listening to Regina Spektor's Far until the songs fill my head to the point that I have to not listen to it for a few days. In addition to just liking the songs, it always feels so...I don't know, life affirming? to find someone who is truly original in what she does.

I feel like I've turned a corner with Genevieve. I think it's partly that she's now closer to four than three and has passed through the worst of the horrible three-year-old-bipolarness, and partly that I've just had to stop and force myself to pull water from the stone in terms of my ability to be patient with her tantrums. The older kids are getting a little slap happy from spending so much time indoors, much of it in front of the television or the Wii. It's finally warmer today and BD has big plans to get them outside breaking in the new basketball hoop Santa brought, so we'll see how that goes.

Mostly right now I feel like I'm lying fallow, dreaming of Spring, letting thoughts and ideas ripen and swell.

C is for Awesome

You made me believe that everything in my life had happened so that you could get here, and I was totally cool with that.



You gave me all my hardest work first, while I still had the energy for it, and then spoiled me with your ability to self direct.




You get sarcasm and know how to wield it, but you also know how to be kind. Or just plain silly.



Every time you ask if anyone wants the last roll/cookie/whatever before taking it for yourself, my heart swells with pride. You are the great and much-adored big brother.



And you always ask for mama's meatloaf for your birthday dinner. Happy birthday Calvin. You are my first and always baby.