Catchy Titles are Getting More Difficult

I should be working right now—so many of my returns to blogging start that way. I had to take the afternoon for dental work, so I owe about another 90 minutes today, and more if I can bring myself to put it out. But I’m at the kitchen table watching the half moon rise above the other condo. It’s peeking between the spires of a spruce tree, and out the southwestern side of the dining room I can see snowcapped mountains. With the leaves gone, our birch tree is a sheerer veil to the view, and I can hear the smile in Jeremiah’s voice as he talks to friends in the bike room. The TV’s on the mantle rather than the floor, the bedroom wall is painted, there’s leftover cupboard curry for lunch. Life is good.

And yet—my tea is cold on the counter, there are unanswered messages on the phone, dead flowers on the table, and green wood half-burned on the grate. I haven’t worked out in a couple of days, vacuumed in two weeks, or done more than a casual clean of the bathroom in…a while. Life may be good, but it’s messy sometimes , too, and while no one loves a mess, I’m learning not to dwell in it. There are some things I can tidy up, some things I can put away, and a host of other verb/adverb combinations I could paste on this life, but there will always be something, and I’m getting better at accepting that.

But Kate, you say, this feels like some sort of metaphor.

Why, yes, it could be, I say. If you see yourself in it, it must be. But part of this serenity-prayer-style cleaning up is letting you apply the metaphor yourself. You analyze your life, I’ll analyze mine, and in doing so we can remain friends. Sound good? Me, too. On to Stockholm!

October, Week 1

Sparkly pencil skirt. Shiny purple blouse. What’s not to like. Good hair, bad picture. I’m thinking a pretty good style day overall.

October, Week

Again with the pencilish skirt. Aside from my unfortunate rejection of shapewear on that particular day (Tie/dress up Tuesday), I LOVE this dress. It’s going to look amazing in 15 pounds, which I’m hoping is sometime around Thanksgiving. We’ll see—if the exercise continues to wane and the treats continue to wax, that could be unreachable, but I’m hopeful. And I walked in those shoes all day. Boo freakin’ yah! Ignore, if you will, the shrug featured in both shots. It’s a staple of my wardrobe, and I will not be shamed by you or anyone into regretting my choice of coverup.

Goodnight everyone. Sleep well, and hope in tomorrow.