Page Eleven: Maintenance

I’m just now realizing that this life requires maintenance. Which should probably not come as a complete shock but it does. I mean, life will happen on its own whether you take care of it or not, but if I want to enjoy it, I’m just going to have to work a little bit harder at looking a little bit ahead. Or at least, that’s how my heart feels right now.

The more stuff that I have in my life, the more I have to manage and maintain. If I have less crap in my life, there’s a lot more open space for creativity and for good times and good things to come in, instead. I think what I’m saying is that I’ve gotten bitten by the spring cleaning bug. But I don’t want it to be seasonal and I don’t want it to be a bug. I want it to be my forever mindset. That’s asking a lot, I know, but a girl can try. I’m growing. I’m nearly 30 and I’m still growing and I really like that a lot.

To say that I’m not a natural planner is an understatement. Left to my own whims and feels, I’ll lay on the couch for an entire day with a bag of Ruffle’s potato chips and a tub of cottage cheese. I mean, I won’t feel good about it but that’s not going to stop it from happening. I mean until recently. That not feeling good about it is starting to stop it from happening. But that’s because I’ve started seeing into the not-so-distant future and wondered how what I’m about to do/ say/ eat is going to affect me in the short term (and eventually in the long term).
For example, me at 10 am says, “Yes, go forth and have that cup of coffee but it might make you feel a little gassy.” Me at 3:00 pm says, “Fine, go forth and have that cup of coffee… if you want to crash in an hour, drudge through the rest of your work day in a bad mood, have to pee every twenty minutes, and feel a little gassy.” (Note: sometimes I still go for that 3:00 pm cup of coffee and it always plays out the way I’d imagined it.)
I have to tell myself (oftentimes out loud), “part of having a latte is cleaning the milk residue off of the end of the steamer wand as soon as we’re done using it, okay?” Because have you ever had to clean the business end of a milk steamer a few days after its last use? Yuk. And also, it’s nearly impossible to clean. Just clean it! It literally takes four seconds out of your whole day. Also, my mental voice is so condescending, is she not? She probably even says, “if you have time to lean, you have time to clean!” What a bother.

Have I told you about the way that I clean my house? This is how it plays out on days when I’m not paying attention and having constant interventions:
When I start to straighten up my living room, I’ll pick up a bottle of nail polish and take it to the bathroom, in the bathroom I’ll see something that needs to be wiped up, go to the kitchen for a paper towel, start a load of dishes… I can work all day and my house doesn’t have anything to show for it! So I’ve started speaking to myself out loud, “we’re only tidying up the living room, right now!” I make myself overlook whatever needs to be wiped up in the bathroom and the dishes that need to be done because I know that if at the end of the day, I don’t have an obviously cleaner room, I’m not going to feel any better about myself and that’s going to make it that much harder to talk myself into cleaning the house next time.

Another trick I have–you know how Congress gave themselves a time limit to figure out the budget or else the whole country would fall over the “fiscal cliff”? I try to instate a domestic version of that theory. For example, the other day I was listening to the Joy The Baker podcast and Joy mentioned that she felt energized one night and just went through all of her drawers and closets and started tossing anything that didn’t work. Like, “I used to like this shirt but then I shrunk it in the laundry and it doesn’t work anymore but I still like it but I’ll never wear it…” I would say that 60% of my wardrobe falls under that category.
So what I did is this: I took all of my laundry (seriously, all of it except for socks and underwear) and dumped it all over my guest bed. I know it doesn’t sound like much but starting tomorrow, I am going to have house guests (non-consecutively) until the end of May. So I HAVE TO get that guest bed cleaned off. I just have to, there’s no question. And if I don’t, the country will fall into a pit of financial despair
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You may be saying to yourself, “I’ll bet she hasn’t even touched that enormous pile of laundry.” And I have to tell you, you’re absolutely right about that. Look at it! My plan is to work on it tonight. I’ll put in my ear buds and listen to old issues of RadioLab or The Joy the Baker Podcast (my favorite), or This American Life. For some reason, even though I’m home alone, I still feel a lot better when I’m listening with my ear buds in. It keeps me centered and helps me focus.

Truth is, ultimately, I feel very calm and happy and just plain good at this point in my life. But I’m looking around at all of this clutter and it stresses me out. That’s unnecessary.  Clutter in my house and clutter in my mind and clutter in my fridge and metaphorical clutter in my relationships with other people and with myself. And I want to get all of that cleaned out so that everything that surrounds me matches what I want inside of me. I want to simplify, simplify, simplify. And I believe that involves a great purge and that starts with the clothes on the guest bed.

Do you have any go-to tricks to make you get big projects accomplished?
How do you keep yourself focused?

Page Ten: Summer Bucket List

Bucket. (Just say it out loud–‘s fun)

I don’t make winter or autumn bucket lists but summer bucket lists are a non-negotiable. For whatever reason. They’re totally unimportant and made up and no one has to have one. But it’d make the comment more section more fun if you had one. There are three whole items on mine. Here they are:

1. Make (and share) a batch of super good sangria. Preferably on a patio in the evening times. Kellory knows what I’m talking about. 

2. Random little tattoo without a lot of forethought. I’m talking, walk into a studio on an afternoon and pick some flash off the wall. 

3. Go sleeveless a few times. This is something that, swimming pool not included, has happened in public exactly one time. No one cares. It’s hot. Get comfy. 

What do you want to get did this summer? 

 

Page 9: Current Events

Currently listening: Band of Horses, Infinite Arms
Currently drinking: ginger ale
Currently watching: my cat bat around a hair tie

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Remember when Xanga was a thing? Xanga was my very first introduction to the idea of blogging. This was in college where there were a lot of feels happening to a lot of people who all lived very close to one another. It was horrible. But there was always a spot in the format of writing the post that said, “Currently” and you could pick “listening to”, or “reading”, or “watching”, or something. And so you got to say, “Sure, I’m a typical emotional college kid but look at this cool, obscure band that I found that no one else has ever heard of.” I swear, there were months where I thought Fall Out Boy was supremely indie just because I’d never heard of them before. Nope. I was incorrect about that. Now, though, I don’t even care how obscure the band is that I’m listening to. Did I download The 20/20 Experience at 6:00 am on the day it released? Do I have regrets? Not really but, frankly, half of that album is a little disappointing to me. I mean there’s a song about space boning. You can’t possibly be serious, Justin, right? I mean, tell me this is a song that was rejected by The Lonely Island.

Currently, I’m riding high from the dinner I just made. The thing is that when I was thinking about what to have for dinner, I was like “well I have eggs and I have a loaf of bread that I should probably eat.” So I’d resigned myself to plain, ordinary scrambled eggs and toast.

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And then when I got home, there was a package on my door step. My frozen, stupid, ice encased doorstep. I opened it to find my copy of the Joy The Baker Cookbook! I’d forgotten that I’d even ordered it! Honestly, I haven’t even had a chance to flip through it, yet. But I think that it was something about having Joy sit there on the counter with me that prompted me. I whisked up the eggs, sliced my bread and then thought, “Woah! I’m nearly to French toast!” But I’m not a huge lover of sweets. Not to the degree that I want to eat them for dinner. I saw an onion and a vine of tomatoes on the counter and boom–that was it.

And here’s the closest thing that you’ll get to a recipe:

I caramelized the onions in a little bit of butter. Recipes will tell you that it takes 10 minutes to caramelize onions but they are liars. It takes half an hour over medium heat.

When they’re done enough (trust your discretion), slice up one tomato and mince a clove of garlic, toss in salt and pepper and dry basil and oregano. Let them sit with the lid on for a little while. It’s done when the tomatoes get sweet and fall apart and it generally looks like a mess.

Whisk up two eggs in a bowl with a big pinch of salt and a medium size pinch of black pepper and a small pinch of cayenne. Soak two hunks of grainey bread in the egg mixture and then fry them in a skillet with 2 tablespoons of butter.

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Then you just put it all together. I put a little of the tomato-onion stuff (I’m sure there’s a better word for that. “Compote?”) on the plate. I set one hunk of bread on top, a little more of the tomato mixture, and the last hunk of bread. And then I rained freshly grated Asiago cheese (which I bought on a whim last week and have not even remotely regretted despite knowing nothing about it at the time of purchase) down over top.

Frankly, it wouldn’t photograph well even if the lighting was excellent in my house, I’m pretty sure. But after every bite, I thought, “Oh my Lordy!” And to think that I was going to have plain, ‘ol scrambled eggs for dinner.  Thanks for being my spirit animal, Joy.

Page 8: Pride Comes Before a Fall or Endless Gushing, Barf-o-rama

On top of being a generally wonderful person, Ryan is exhausted today. It’s a Sunday, we have no real duties and in my heart, my highest priority of the day is to make this character comfortable and rested and in possession of every little thing that he could ever possibly want.Image

The fact of the matter is that I am constantly proud of him. I see how hard he works. I see that he gives 100% in every single thing that he does and then he comes home and he doesn’t take a break with me. You know how they say that you hurt the ones that you love the most? I have to say that I can’t relate to that. I have known Ryan for far beyond a decade and I have been dating him for about a year and a half and never once has he gotten exasperated with me. He’s never lost his temper or been anything but abundantly kind with me. Not even one time. It’s not in his character but more than that, I just know that he loves me. Every day I’m struck by what a blessed person I am to get to live this life with this person in it. There are no exaggerations, here. In fact, I feel like I’m underselling what a cool guy he is. But I won’t go on with that for fear of having you puke more than once.

Anyway, point being: I want to do something exceptionally nice for him. So I brainstorm something (hopefully) delicious for dinner. I make the couch extra comfy. Give him a glass of water, the remote, old episodes of The Office. “Relax,” I say. “Don’t move a muscle!” I drive off to the grocery store and feel like I am really finally nailing this Excellent Girlfriend thing. I am such a generous lady. My head was definitely inflated (as if “sit on my couch” is akin to “we’re leaving for Paris in an hour.”)

Gliding on sunshine, I gracefully take my time at the grocery store. Picking out the perfect vegetables and making use of my abundance of re-usable bags (I’m saving the whole planet, today!). When I get to the register, I realize that I’ve left my debit card at home and, like any modern woman, I am carrying four whole dollars in my billfold.

So, after hemming and hawing over ways to save my pride and my perishables, I decide that all I can really do is call him and ask him to root around through my house, find my debit card (which happened to be in the bathroom, of all places), and bring it to me at the grocery store. So much for, “put your feet up, don’t worry about a thing, I’ve got this.” I felt like a huge ass and I’m still probably more embarrassed than the situation called for.

All is not lost, though. He’s on hour two of a nap (completely unbothered by the amount of noise I make or my forgetfulness–typical). I have some chicken marinating and I’m researching how to pretend that my oven is actually a grill. The windows are open, I’m wearing stretch pants, and my billfold is properly stocked.

Ryan, I’m sorry for gushing about you on the internet. I can’t help it, I’m just extra happy today.

XOXO, Lib.

Page Seven: Women in Our Twenties

This is a portion of an email that I wrote to Katie, this morning. And I thought to myself, “I want to say this to everyone I know even if I sound horribly naive.” So I’m telling you.
I was listening to Alec Baldwin’s podcast (which I am obsessed with right now), Here’s The Thing. And in an older episode, he has a conversation with Lena Dunham. Obviously I spent my morning in bed listening to this. But she said something that I thought was not only completely accurate but really… kind of the sort of thing that you don’t notice unless you’re living it. She said, “I think that if you ask any women in their 20’s whether or not they’re happy, they’ll probably tell you that they have very happy moments.” and then she goes on to say that she really believes that a woman between the ages of 22 and 30 are probably not really happy, but they’re getting there.  And as a woman on the downward slide of that figure (I have a mere seven months left in my twenties), I can’t agree with it any more at all. I could not possibly say “YES!” enough.  I know that there are people who could radically disagree with that sentiment and I respect that. But I feel like I am at a crucial, pivotal, stressful, and beautiful point in my life where I feel like I am getting to happy. Like, I am on the yellow brick road and I can see the pillars of the Emerald City. Twenties is hard work and it is shitty a lot of the time but my friend, my friend, my friend, I can see that if we treat this time in our lives properly and live as ourselves, there is a huge fucking payoff.
Or maybe I’m just having a severely optimistic day.
I had avocado toast and a Green Machine Naked Juice for breakfast and I’m wearing sandals. So, maybe I’m just in an excellent mood.