Things to do in Summer 2012:
I remember my mom hanging prisms in the windows when I was little. The sun would shine through them and they'd cast rainbows around the house. People had them hanging from their rear-view mirrors, dangling and catching the light. No one does that anymore and I really don't understand why. I mean, they're so pretty and simple and the patterns put a smile on my face. It's hard to be in a bad mood when you're surrounded by refracted light.
A facebook friend of mine recently posted the following status update:
'ways to prevent sweating your make up off' isn't as popular on google as one would think.Accurate. During this warmer time of year (for everyone in the country except the PNW, apparently) our skin tends to sweat and get oily and just not cooperate in general. This can be rough on one's make-up routine. Having a smudgy and shiny face that feels like it's melting off isn't exactly a good time. I tend to have oily skin ALL of the time, so here's how I deal!
Wait... what? Color? Jasie bought something that isn't black or gray? It's floral!? What? No way! It has hot pink piping? The base color is CREME?
I don't understand. How is this possible?
One of my favorite things about having my own blog and my own platform for talking about my life and such is that that I can literally say whatever I want. I can blab on and on about nail polish or my feeeeeelings or pretty fabric or stuffing food in my face and it's totally fine for me to be a self-obsessed monster. Am I right? Like, it's fine. It's expected.
My blog is only a little bit topical (and only on certain days), and the rest of the time I can just vent my thoughts and ideas and the inner-workings of my addled brain. And as you all know, I have a lot of shit swirling around up in there. A LOT.
Today is one of those days of the week where I'm supposed to focus on something specific - in this particular case, it's my thrifting habit. The random thing I want to talk about today could also technically fall under the "tutorial tuesday" category, though, so I skipped that one this week and am combining the two. BECAUSE I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT. You're not the boss of me!
It's summer, it's the solstice, it's time for a sale.
For as long as sunshine and warm breezes reign supreme, you can save 25% on every item in my shop by using the code SUMMERSUMMERSUMMER at checkout!
The unschooling community seems to be the one place where my habitual neatness is viewed as a character flaw. I don't get a super judgmental vibe from most people who hold this attitude, but I definitely feel an undercurrent of it, regardless of intention.
The way many unschoolers talk about housework makes me think that they picture a sea of uptight Stepford Wives out there, ignoring their children in favor of scrubbing the kitchen floor, or not letting their children do anything fun for fear of the mess, or having houses that resemble museums more so than homes... and while yes, there is pressure in our society to conform to some middle class keeping-up-with-the-Jones's lifestyle, I think we can fight against that without casting out those of us who do get a certain amount of satisfaction from a clean floor and fluffed pillows. I get that this attitude is very much in response to the expectation that wives and mothers should keep spotless homes and spotless children, but I don't think that swinging the pendulum in the opposite direction is the right course of action.
Unfucking my habitat is part of my self-care. It's part of how I create a rich and eclectic environment for my son to explore his interests and ideas and to be introduced to new things. It's out of respect for the other people who live in my home and their own proclivities for neatness and tidiness. I feel like degrading housework and cleanliness as a waste of time or an either/or situation that somehow infringes on our ability to practice connected parenting is just another blow at "women's work" (and parenting, as humans are pretty decent at multitasking).
It may seem to some that the appropriate feminist position would be to dismiss this kind of work as degrading or superfluous, but that's counter-intuitive and counter-productive to women, children, families, and anyone who does this kind of work for pay (and even more so, those who do it WITHOUT financial compensation).
Friday was an excellent day for yarn-bombing, eating ice cream, and wearing incredibly short shorts. Kitty and I found a naked pole near the end of the main drag that needed some sprucing up. We got a bit conceptual (ha, yah, not so much) and decided that the top section represents the Summer weather we should be having, the middle doesn't know what it's doing, and the bottom is already anticipating Fall-like weather. Not the most optimistic view, but we're realists.
I remember staying at my Grandma Dorothy's house when I was little. She had a formal living room at the front of the house and a separate sitting room at the back where we watched movies and read books. Honestly, I'm not sure what the formal living room was for, since it didn't feel like much living was done there, as I rarely saw the adults spend any time there, outside of large family gatherings.
I loved being in that room all by myself, sitting with my legs crossed on her white leather ottoman, gazing out her front windows at boats on the Puget Sound. I'd take her old photo albums off the shelf and look at pictures of her and her siblings and parents when she was young. There were also many pictures of my dad and uncle when they were children. Most of them were black and white portraits in natty little matching suits on front lawns or first days of school and such, but sometimes I'd stumble onto pictures from when my Grandfather was still alive. I never got to meet him, and really, neither did my dad, as he died when he was only a toddler.
He was a large man with a strong forehead and nose, slightly resembling the butler from Downton Abbey, but maybe a bit less posh and dignified, since he was a pharmacist and not working for an Earl. I wonder if my dad and uncle sat in that same living room, on that same ottoman, looking at these pictures... The ottoman was a mother's day gift to Dorothy from my dad when he was 15. He was living with a foster family at the time and working in their furniture store after school.
I often poke fun at myself and my style of cooking by referring to some of my most-often-prepared meals as "70s mom food". Of course, this is mostly self-deprecating, but it's also true, as I really DO love a good casserole. The dish I've been making the longest (and that is enjoyed by the most people I've cooked for) is my Tuna Noodle Casserole. I know, I know... the combo of cheese and pasta and tuna is nothing new or exciting and most suburban white kids in my generation grew up eating some variation of this dish, but I've tweaked the recipe so much over the years that for me, it does feel new and exciting compared to the version I ate as a kid.
I use different cheeses than my mother did, the standard egg noodles were switched out for tri-color rotini many years ago, the tuna is higher quality and has better flavor, and I've added in a lot of different flavors via herbs and spices. The basic principles of my mother's Tuna Noodle Casserole are there, but the details are different.
It's that time of year where Summer is SO CLOSE that I can taste it. I pine away for it like a swoony 13 year old when I doodle the word "Summer" in my notebook and draw little hearts and swirls around it. I want to wear tank-tops and short sleeves, but it's just not time yet. Sure, I was able to put on shorts a few weeks ago, but that was only a teaser for the season.
Since I'm not exactly in the market to buy a bunch of new clothes and it's not pleasant enough out to give up layering altogether, I have to find ways to remix my wardrobe a little so that I don't become bored. I found with this outfit that throwing a belt over the whole thing changed it up enough to keep me from sighing heavily when I look in the mirror.
Example: Having a baby.
Seth and I have been trying to get pregnant since Fall of 2010. I went off the depo shot, busted my ass to get myself ovulating again, bookmarked articles on homebirth and links to gear I felt we'd need, thrifted for an alarming amount of baby clothes, and generally spent the majority of my free time thinking about pregnancy and babies. And then it hit me... I'm only 30. Why am I in such a hurry?
My mom didn't have my little brother until she was 37. Seth's mom had his youngest sister when she was 40. We have plenty of time. In Port Townsend especially, that is not an odd occurrence. On average, I'm usually about 10 years younger than the other parents of kids Silas' age that I encounter.
There are so many things in our life that would change drastically if I got pregnant right now (obviously), and while we do want to have a child together at some point, there isn't any reason it has to happen right this second. The more I step back and look at the big picture that is my life, the more I like what it is right now, AS IS. I've finally gotten a handle on taking care of the people I already have in my life. That's a big deal. Also, Silas is at a really amazing age where he's growing more and more independent every day and soon he'll be out socializing without me. We should be taking advantage of what a low-maintenance phase he's in, as it's kind of amazing. Basically, the pros of waiting faaaaaar outweigh the cons at this point.
Beware the Dangerous Fatties by Ragen Chastain
"The first use is when someone suggests that you should go on a diet. Try giving them a look of disbelief, a quick snort of a laugh and saying “Are people still peddling that? I thought everybody knew that weight loss doesn’t work.” shake your head disapprovingly and say “Wow, the computer era makes the evidence so accessible and people still don’t bother to read it!'"
Being Mean to Fat People Is Pointless: A Good Old-Fashioned Plea for Civility by Lindy West
"Fat people in America are reduced to nothing but fatness. A fat person has a health problem of any kind? It’s because they’re fat. A fat person is single? Well, duh. Fat. They deserve it. A fat person is poor? That’s not surprising-obviously they have bad judgment and no impulse control! Because why would a smart person choose to be fat? If a fat person goes to a restaurant and sits on a broken chair and the chair collapses under them, it’s because they’re fat. But if a thin person sits on the same broken chair and the chair collapses under them, it’s because they sat on a broken chair."
I rarely walk into a thrift store and wander aimlessly - I have a system for how I thrift. There are certain sections I ALWAYS go to, not in any particular order, but each of these sections must be covered while I'm in the store: picture frames, doilies, linens (for sewing), embroidery hoops, teacups and saucers, and last but not least, Tupperware.
Some of it ends up going into my kitchen to be used around the house, but only 1/3 or so of the tupperware I own right now is stuff I personally use, the rest goes put away in a bin in the closet. Why would I buy all of this just to stuff it in a closet? Eventually I hope to open a resale vintage shop on etsy. I registered the username I wanted for the shop AGES ago and have slowly been collecting a diverse range of items to stock the shop. One of these days I'll actually get off my ass and pull the whole thing together.
So... being on the radio was ridiculously fun. I want to thank everybody who tuned in locally and who streamed it live. Not everybody was able to give it a listen, so I had Seth record it and it's now online for your listening pleasure.
Being on the spot was really bizarre. It's true what they say, that the second that ON AIR light goes on, your brain literally dumps out everything you had planned to say and yah... I said "um" a lot. I also use the word "technically" a lot. I don't know what that's all about. It's technical, ok?
I was a teenager in the late 90s. I listened to the local (Seattle) "alternative" radio station on a daily basis. I idolized the DJs and recorded my favorite songs onto cassette whenever they came on and called in to make requests and enter contests and to ask questions during on-air interviews with my favorite musicians. I couldn't just watch a video on youtube or torrent an album (hell, Napster wasn't even a thing yet).
The radio played a vital role in my exposure to and enjoyment of music. I had dreams of becoming a DJ like Marco Collins and exchanging witty banter with a co-host and being pretty much the coolest thing I could imagine... locally famous. And tonight, for one brief hour... those dreams are coming true.
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