1667 words every day?!

NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow.

I'm a little nervous only because I'm afraid of failing and I HATE when I tell people I'm going to do something and I don't.

I guess I should stop being a ninny and just do it. *big, deep breath* Okay then.

50,000 words...your butt is mine.

♪♫ you're so vaaaaaaaaain...you probably think this post is about you, don't you? ♫♪

Vanity's been on my mind as of late.

My husband is the most unvain person imaginable. I strive to attain his level of mastery, though I fear it is just something you are, not something you become. He doesn't care about what others think about him because it never even crosses his mind that they would. It's a non-issue for him. I don't know how he does it, but it's enviable.

Pablo Picasso - Girl in front of mirror



Not so with me. I am so concerned about not concerning myself with what others think that I base some of my decisions solely on what "everyone else" is not doing. When I was little I would change my order if anyone at our table ordered the same thing I was wanting. I loved Jeep Wranglers until everyone else did. In church, if someone says, "Let's all lift our hands," I won't. I can't.



But isn't that still vanity? alterno-vanity? or maybe anti-vanity? Whichever it is, it is still basing my decision on what someone else thinks. And I'm not sure that's any better.

When I was in high school  I revolted at the idea of people dying their hair to hide the gray. I thought the practice deceitful and the people who did it insecure. (I know, harsh, but when we're teenagers, don't we know everything and call it like it is?) Well, a couple years ago I died my hair a really dark brown (my favorite hair color, while I was blessed with dirty-dishwater blonde). When I grew tired of the constant re-coloring every few weeks, I started using lighter and lighter colors until I returned to my natural color. When the roots grew out, I noticed a substantial percentage of gray hairs. (I have a great set of early-onset-graying genes.)

I wrote "hair dye" on my grocery list and then suddenly realized that this was a moment. (You know, those times when something monumental reveals itself, and your decision carries with it something more substantial than usual.) Up until now, my hair dying was done only to gradually grow out the dark brown dye. If I bought this next box of Nice-n-Easy, its sole purpose would be gray coverage. I would turn into one of those people I swore I would never become.

All this to say that I've decided to not dye my hair. Part of it is sticking to my younger-self's guns. I really think, that while severe, she understood a truth that I still aspire to. I'm also really adverse to what society has become and though allowing myself to naturally gray will do nothing to fight that monster, it will keep myself from joining that massive Me-Focused Whole.

But at the very bottom of it is the vanity thing. Since most people cover up the evidence of their age, everyone looks younger than they are, thus conversely most will conclude that I am older than I am. Is that really so bad? My vain self screams, "Yes!"

And that's where I am right now. I don't know how else to fight it. When I glance in the rearview mirror and my eyes are drawn to the silver strands on my head reflecting the sunlight like miniature mirrors, I cringe. But then I immediately tell myself, "That's right, Vanity. Deal with it, 'cause it's only gonna get worse."

when it rains...it doesn't?

It hasn't rained here (NW Houston) for ever. It seems like at least a month or two. I just happened upon this lovely white noise site called, appropriately enough, RainyMood.com. It loops a 30-minute rain sound effect. Extent of site. I find it most relaxing, especially when I'm missing the good ol' soggy Pacific Northwest.

what if...

Sometimes I wish the Shire was real. Today is one of those times. (And the London Philharmonic would have to play "Concerning Hobbits" in the background. Maybe they could hide behind one of the hills.)

calm in the chaos

Okay, I will never ever write the words "screw you, morning self" again. Last night, after I finished my blog post, my cocky self was rocked. I won't go into details but I was calling the bank at 3am and then my parents, bawling my head off at 330am. I think I might have been trying to sleep by 430am.

Today I found out that my husband might have to work in Ohio until December. This coupled with a very stressful middle-of-the-night and an almost complete lack of sleep tipped me seriously close to the edge. But God had my back.

Not only did my dear friend, Amy, spontaneously visit (without foreknowledge of my situation and bringing her beautiful children to distract mine and a kombucha starter to distract me!) but my beloved friend, Mel, called at nearly the same second I got the heart-rending husband-less-months-ahead news. One friend to calm me, one to keep me distracted and then another darling friend, Beth, wanted to make sure I was okay through the medium of Facebook (and although we're great friends, we've both been rather quiet these last few months with various life situations which makes the "reach out and touch" moment that more weighty). Three vehicles to deliver God's love and assurance that I wasn't alone. I didn't contact even one of them to let them know I was so distraught. How amazing is that? And that's not counting my husband's texts and my mom's calls.

I don't believe in coincidence. I believe I'm loved.

...and the one the LORD loves rests between his shoulders. Deut 33:12

taking charge

I could have been sensible and wise. I could have went to bed three and a half hours ago, at a decent time. But I didn't. Instead I started at 10pm and watched all four episodes of the mini-series The Buccaneers. My morning self will hate me, that's for certain. But if I did everything to please her my life would be blah-dom. So tonight I said "screw you, morning self" and did what I pleased. Sometimes you've just got to put your morning self in her place.

(I know her well, though. She won't take this lying down. Tomorrow there'll be some changes, that's for sure.)

transparency

My husband has been traveling a lot. Tomorrow is the 5th week and next week is the last of his commuting to Manhattan on Monday and then back Friday night. I'm tired and just realized in the last few days that I'm lapsing into survival mode. I don't want to cook. I don't want to clean. I don't want to blog or do anything that uses my brain. I don't want to exercise. I don't want to make my kids do their school. I just want to escape through novels, movies, or mind-numbing internet time wasting. (i.e.- My daughter is grounded from the computer for the week and in order for her to get this certain pig for logging on to Happy Pets 14 days in a row I'm having to do it for her. And I'm doing it! Sometimes even twice a day I will feed, clean and play with her little virtual animals. How depraved is that?)

I know I have only a short time left but it's always the last bit that's the hardest. When it gets like this my auto response is to clear my schedule and quit all commitments. I don't want anything going on that I have to do. The idea of having to get all five of my kids ready for something and be somewhere by a certain time overwhelms me.

I'm at my parents' house in San Antonio right now. It's over 100 every day and I have no a/c in my car. (long story) In order to get back tomorrow without getting sick from the heat, I have to leave by no later than eight am. Eight AM!  It would be best if I could leave by 6 or 7 but that's pertneer impossible. Eight is even pushing the reality barrier.

But I've got to. My favoritist person, my best friend, the absolute love of my life is coming home tomorrow night and I must see him. There is no option. It would break my heart to miss a second of his weekend time home. So it's tomorrow morning, eight o'clock. 8:00am even though everything in me revolts at the thought of waking up earlier, getting the kids around and packing up the car to leave in time.

I'm realizing that this has just  been a one of those therapeutic, verbal puking sessions. I shouldn't post it. Especially if I want to maintain the facade that most bloggers keep: My life is peachy keen and even the bad things are funny. Ha, ha ha!

But to keep this honest I will hit the "PUBLISH POST" button. This is me, folks. And right now ain't so hot.