Guilt Flossing

I got my 6 month dental check-up postcard in the mail this week, telling me when my next appointment is scheduled.

I was always a good girl. I cleaned my room, I excelled in a sport, I got great grades, I always went to Sunday School... I never wanted anyone to be disappointed in me. It scared me that anyone with any amount of authority could possibly be disappointed in me.

That included my dentist.

I don't ALWAYS floss. I know that I should. I know life would probably be better if I would, but I just don't. I got scolded by my dentist ONE TIME. That's all it took. I was a flosser morning, noon and night... For about two weeks.

I started again this week. Consistently. I promise.


Ensign, Warp 7. Engage.

I got in the car, I belted up, I pressed the gas.

I didn't have to wait for a train or lights or wrecks or stupid people who tap their brakes for NO reason or sugar cane falling off of a truck in front of me or buses or garbage trucks or Entergy trucks or Cox trucks.

There were no "side roads of futility" taken or explored because "they might be faster." (they're not)

I didn't have to stop.

Today all the right songs were playing on the radio.

Today I got home in 45 minutes!

Today I DROVE home, I didn't just tap my brakes for an hour and a half.

World I am home.

(First time since Katrina that I've arrived home in less than double the normal commute time!)


Wilderness Jamboree

I got up to walk the dog this morning for my exceptional husband, in an attempt to let him sleep in. He always lets me sleep. Cody's schedule throughout the week dictates that he's walked promptly at 6:30am and 6:00pm. EVEN on Saturday. Eddie usually walks him in the morning; I take him in the evening.

Eddie didn't sleep, he's out getting breakfast and a few groceries to tide us over. I couldn't have married a more perfect man. I hate the store.

Last night we went to a 30th Birthday celebration for one of my high school friends. A collage of pictures (embarassing and otherwise) were out for all to see, from her birth to her motherhood. Eddie and I held hands while watching as her 4 yr old son impatiently handed her one present after the next. It was such a loving, family scene.

We've recently been talking about having one of our own. (a little tyke) Eddie knows I'm scared. I'm not scared of anything in particular, just SCARED. I have no fear about how Eddie will be as a parent. He's the perfect husband, the best friend and most caring and patient doggie daddy. That leaves me. I used to have time to be scared. We'll be celebrating my own 30th mile marker the middle of next year. I have a career I love, a home in the middle of constant redesign, a dog, and a marriage with my best friend. It's perfect, right?

I keep waiting for it to "feel right" or for someone to tell me, "Kristen, it's TIME." Both Eddie and I have parents that never push. We haven't felt the least amount of pressure to expand our brood from just the one puppy. Now, with our city in a constant state of flux, I want to see how everything looks after the dust settles in the coming year. I can't decide if I'm just being a bit selfish, making excuses or if I'm making sense. At present, 10 bucks a month is a small price to pay to wait a little longer.

Troop Beverly Hills is on. I believe I'll be watching that.


Great Things About Being 5'2"

1. My head fits snugly just beneath my husband's neck and shoulder. In a hug, he can lean down and kiss my forehead.

2. In group pictures, I'm always in the front.

3. In general, people tend to think I'm younger.

4. That zit under my chin this morning...NOBODY noticed.



Pearl Jam's "Jeremy" came on the radio this afternoon while I was in the car. Instant flashback to high school. I took a different way home from work today because of an errand, and I found myself in an area of town that I hadn't cruised in a while... one of my best friends used to live down that street with her parents. That street used to dead end on the edge of the universe in Baton Rouge. Beyond that street was...sugar cane, wooded fields, the river? We didn't know because it was THE END of our world. We turned either right towards LSU, where I would go after we graduated, or left towards the hilltop, where we once took our blind-folded boyfriends for a surprise picnic.

This afternoon I came into town on a road leading into the city that hugs the river. I've had to take "the back roads" more often now that traffic in Baton Rouge is...worse. I knew I was looking for the not-so-recent extension of that street that used to dead-end just a few miles up, but just as I found it, "Jeremy" began to play. I felt like an anachronism. Pearl Jam was playing in my car, in my head. It was 1994. But I was driving down a street that didn't exist then, neither did each of the forty thousand houses that have popped up in the last 15 minutes.

I grew up in Baton Rouge, got my first college degree here, and got married here. I've seen my friends move away, then move back. I was one of those that went off to school in a bigger city, on a different coast, in search of something somewhere else. But I came back.

This city is changing and growing so fast. I like the new stores, the new roads and the new opportunities for our hopeful population, but I lament the big, small town where I grew up. I knew every nook and cranny and have memories in most of them. I drove down a street today that I couldn't recognize and didn't know. It was a long way from 1994.


You're Watching Lifetime?

Him: "Yes I am."

Her: Paused.

Him: "I just saw Michael Ian Black so I had to stop. Anyway, it doesn't SEEM like a Lifetime movie...they're all guys."

Her: "You know, it's probably about how all these guys beat up on their girlfriends or wives."

Him: "No, it looks funny."

Her: "O.k."


World’s First Dog Butt Hole Ventriloquist

May 2004- Eddie and I drive 4 hours to pick up a dog we've adopted from petfinder.com. We've seen his picture, fallen in love, applied to adopt him, had our house inspected, our references checked and paid $150. We picked up the CUTEST DOG ON THE PLANET and journeyed 4 hours back home the day after my 28th birthday. Cody was my present.

He is our little boy.

October 2005- We're all sitting/laying on the couch together. Eddie reaches over and grabs my butt and says, "butt!" As if it were an unfinished sentence, I lift the dog's tail (which was pointing at Eddie's face) and sing, "HOLE!"

I know my lips moved. I'm not that great yet.


Compassion Fatigue

"Almost everyone I know is tired."

My husband just said that about 10 minutes ago. I've only just gotten home from a day of doing everything that's expected of me. We sat on the couch for a little time together and to discuss the day. He held my hand while we talked and we both tried to avoid throwing the toy our dog kept thrusting at us for a hopeful game of fetch.

My husband works at a church. His is one in the area housing Red Cross volunteers while they are here to do their work. As a congregation and as invididuals, we care for the caretakers. We wash their clothes, we cook their meals and listen to them after their day or give them a quiet place to rest.

In my ordinary life, I try to meet every demand, usually sacrificing just enough to get the job done. Sometimes the job is bigger than my individual sacrifice. Most of the time I don't figure this out until I am absolutely exhausted and a little discouraged by the fact that I (or my effort) wasn't enough to "fix it." I feel that now. My husband and I were relatively unaffected personally by either hurricane, but we have friends and family that were hit hard and we live in a city that is trying to cope. I've also been playing "Ms. Fix-It" for my extended family for some time now. It pulls me away from home more often than not.

I need that comfort of home and husband (and a fair night's sleep) to get a decent recharge.





It's 3:14 am and I'm AWAKE. Sunday school starts in exactly 6 hours, 31 minutes. I WILL be taking a nap tomorrow (later today).

I had a random memory. I was in the 3rd grade. Our teacher, Mrs. Weeks, was letting us out for recess 5 minutes early because she had recess duty. I remember leaning toward my best friend Danielle, whispering my realization, "She just said, 'duty'!"

We couldn't contain our laughter for the rest of the recess. Duty is always funny. Yes, it's late.


Nah, it's fine.

I love my husband.

I loved him when we were friends, when we started to date, and all through our engagement (2 years). It was then when he could dress himself.

After we got married, we lived with each other for the first time...there were a lot of firsts after we got married. Every time we would decide to leave the house, I would ask his opinion of my outfit. In the beginning, he'd humor me and form an opinion other than, "I love you, you look wonderful," because he knew I would not accept just that. More recently, he's reciprocated by asking me, "Do these look okay together?" or "Is this shirt too dark for these pants?"

He's actually thinking about his clothes as part of an entire look rather than just wearing what was clean. Now, I make sure the laundry is done (because I can trust no other to do it to my specifications) and he has so many choices of shirt and pant combinations all the time.

It is now that he respects my opinion so much that he can't make a confident decision without my input. He actually needs me. My plan has worked. He can't live without me.

I love my husband.


Letting go

Yesterday, Eddie and I devoted the majority of the afternoon to much-needed yardwork after Dame Rita's brief visit. Compared to some, we realize how lucky we were to be able to remove the branches, sticks and leaves from the yard and driveway to continue our happy lives.

There were A LOT of sticks, A LOT of leaves and quite a few branches piled on the corner of our yard before we were finished. We have a line of river birch (betula nigra) leading to the front door. I thought they were beautiful when we moved in, only because I had NO IDEA how many sticks those things would/could drop. After Rita, there were sticks EVERYWHERE.

After amassing a pile of which I was proud from the general yard, I started gathering from the bushes. The sticks are skinny and flexible, so I could gather quite a bit in my fists before making a trek to my growing pile. It is always the plan to gather as many sticks for a successful carry to make each trip to the pile count, so my hands were almost completely full of sticks branching off in different directions when I went to grab ONE more.

The last one that I needed to fill my fists was near the back of a giant tree-like bush next to the house. As I reached for it, the mass in my hands kept pushing it just out of my reach. I lunged further and was scratched on the cheek by the bush that was holding my stick captive, my prize moving more out of my grasp.

I eventually captured the stick, escaping the bush with a few minor scratches.

Before I began this blog just a few days ago, I wouldn't have given my thoughts during yardwork a forum, but yesterday I found big in the small. I realized at the moment I was reaching for something I needed, all of the things I was holding were preventing me from getting the thing I needed, they were even helping to push it away.

I looked in the mirror last night to survey the dirt and the day on my face before my shower and I saw the scratches.

I've still got a lot to let go before I can have the thing for which I am reaching - peace. I'm sure I'll get scratched many more times before I can learn my lesson. I have always found it easier to keep the big things in. I have questions and anger about loss and hardship and I hope they find their way here. I am always working, always thinking. I'll make it.


Three things I cannot tolerate

1. Ants

2. Unattached hair (of any sort)

3. Wallpaper border

I've decided

Last year I ran a marathon. I've spent the time since then being waaay too proud of that fact and slacking on my exercise regime. It is finally the time to cut back on those post-race reward cookies!

Morning of day1: Toast for breakfast. Blackberry jelly. Skim milk.

Mid-morning, day 1: I want a cookie.
Newer Posts      Older Posts