The first beautiful Saturday of a new decade

So, it took eight years, but I think I'm finally adjusted to the weather in South Alabama.  Today is January 29th, and the high was somewhere between 65-70 degrees.  I'm definitely okay with that.  Here are some pictures to document our first pretty Saturday of 2011.

Orange Street Pier, Fairhope

White Street Pier, Fairhope

View to the South from White Street Pier

My handsome boys - Seamus wanted to wander around because there was some interesting seagull poop to investigate, and Marcus had to kind of hold him still.

Cut Marcus's head off because I couldn't see, but Seamus is looking dashing!

Walking on Mobile Street

Now we're home for a few minutes before we head back out.  Marcus is going to a wedding with his mom, and I'm going to Papa's to visit with family and eat some good food.  I hope everyone else's Saturday is as pleasant as mine!

Last night, I ate a southwestern chicken burrito wrapped in a green spinach tortilla.

I didn't plan for this to be my next post--my next post was going to be a publicizable version of my list mentioned in the last post.  However, this dream was just too weird not to share, so without further ado ...

I'm not sure where I began.  I had Rapunzel hair (except it was still the same color--not blond), and there was a 3-year-old with me, and the 3-year-old was me.  I was talking to my 3-year-old self, and she was getting frustrated because I wasn't taking her seriously.

Skip to the next scene.  Someone had sent me to the grocery store to get a pumpkin because it was "Forest Day."  When I walked into Winn-Dixie, which was nothing more than an indoor produce stand, the cashier cheerfully wished me a happy Forest Day.  I was confused, but not worried about it enough to ask what exactly Forest Day is celebrating.  I found a beautiful pumpkin, and when I was walking to the register, I realized the reason the pumpkin was so beautiful and perfect was because it wasn't a real pumpkin, but a ceramic candy dish.  I bought it anyway, and left Winn-Dixie.

I was driving a big, giant pickup truck, and I was in downtown Fairhope.  I saw some baby ducks in the road, but I figured they'd fly away before I reached them, even though they were really too young to fly.  I couldn't reach the pedals in the truck because I had embodied my three-year-old self while driving.  I eventually lowered myself down low enough to hit the brakes, but it was too late.  I had run over two baby ducks.

Flash forward to the next scene.  I'm not sure whether I'm three years old or twenty-six, but I'm in a tiny cargo plane with my parents, who are telling me all about the next time they'll go on vacation.  My dad is at the wheel, and my mom is in the seat behind him.  The airplane is stopped and there is grass outside the open door.

I kept trying to interject something, and no one would let me talk.  I finally decided to give up and let them just keep talking, except I did throw a miniature fit (that only I noticed).  I was going to tell my mom about how I had these new panties, and I had them folded in my hand.  I decided to just toss the panties out the door of the plane, but when I did that, the panties fell and fell and fell.  What I thought was grass was actually the tops of trees from miles and miles up off the ground.  The distance was so great that really we probably would have needed oxygen masks and whatever other necessary gear in order to have the door open in a plane at that altitude.

My dad circled the plane around and my stomach dropped as I tried not to fall out of the open door.  He looked at me knowingly, barrel-rolled the airplane, and the door slammed shut.  If I wasn't so terrified, I would have mentioned that the view of the trees and mountains was really breathtaking.  There was also a princess castle sticking up beyond everything, which is case for me being my three-year-old self during at least part of the airplane scene.

Queue alarm clock.

Some Serious To-Do Lists

I’m writing this down as a part of a pre-plan.  I am SO bad with phases.  You can tell with this blog, even though I so don’t want it to be a phase.  I’m just going through a numb-time, if that makes any sense at all.  I’m not sure that it makes sense to me.  I’m pushing through.

There are things that I want to accomplish, but I don’t know what they are.  I keep thinking that I don’t want my life to just be another old life where nothing exceptional happens except for the regular exceptional things.  I guess that’s not fair.  My life is beautiful, but it could be so much more purposeful and meaningful if I could concentrate on something long enough to follow through with it. 

I sat and thought to myself why it is that I don’t do the things I want to do.  I’m not talking about the fact that my bathroom has needed cleaning for an amount of time I do not wish to disclose.  I’m talking about bigger things that I can’t quite put my finger on.  Things that require a great deal of time off of work, a lot of money probably, and plenty of creativity and bravery. 

I need to make a few lists, I guess.  The first list will be of all things, big and small, that I want with my life.  For starters, assume all things include Marcus, if not Marcus AND Seamus.  I am so much happier when he’s around. (Seamus, that is.  Marcus is a given.)

The second would be a list of obstacles in the way of list number one.  That’s the crappy list that is going to be VERY easy to make because it’s all I ever think about—reasons I can’t do the things I want to do. 

I’ll work on these lists and get back with you, because right now I’m late.  I’m always just a little bit late.  Sigh.  

To Delete or not to Delete

In response to Don Miller's blog this morning Handling Digital Clutter (and I promise I don't plan on responding to everything he has to say) I have definitely been considering removing the clutter that is Facebook.  My husband has done it.  I actually honestly judge people just a tiny bit when they mention that they have a Facebook account.  I feel like it's lame, chiefly because it generally takes up a tremendous amount of a person's precious 24-hours.  I haven't deleted mine because of a few reasons.

1.  I'm afraid I'll lose this group called The Book Club.  It hasn't been updated or posted on in forever, but I refer to it occasionally when trying to remember a specific book that someone recommended a while back.

2.  I understand that Facebook gives you the option of keeping pictures and saved information, but I'm not sure how that works, and I'm afraid of the unknown.

3.  I'm reluctant to delete it because honestly it doesn't take up ANY of my time.  I probably haven't even opened up a browser to Facebook in 2 or 3 weeks, and I'm sure it's been more than that since I last posted something on my own.  It doesn't tempt me at all, so there isn't any reason to remove the temptation.

4.  Facebook is the only way some people know to get in touch with me, but this argument is weak.  If someone really wanted to reach me, it would be easy enough without Facebook.

The main argument is #3 (I realized I put these in completely random order).  Why rid yourself of something that doesn't hurt anything or take up any space (such as an unwanted pair of shoes or half of the contents of your closet)?  #3 is the main reason I have left it alone.  I know I'll eventually delete it because I hate being a part of such an abomination of socializing, but no rush.

Tedium on the Kindle

There's really nothing as peaceful as sitting on the bathroom floor in my pajamas with a deep cleansing mask on my face, reading on my Kindle. Of course now I've ruined it by trying to blog on the Kindle during the 15-minute mask's set-in. Yeah, this is hard. That's all for now!

Yep, I brought it up because it was on my mind and I'm desperate for a subject that isn't inappropriate blogging material. Long subject.

Okay, no messing around, here we go.  I've got to quit writing in a Word document things that can never be put on the Internet if I value peace, happiness, job, life, and general well-being whatsoever.  It helps to get those thoughts out, but those should be saved for a diary or something.  

So anyway.

I keep forgetting that this weekend is a three-day weekend!  I do mental acrobats (cartwheels, back flips, etc) when I remember.  This has been happening several times throughout the day.  Monday I didn't realize it at all, but yesterday (Tuesday) was filled with mental acrobats.  And maybe some real life chair-dancing.  I don't have any plans for this glorious day, but maybe that can change.  Whenever I think of a nice, pleasant day-off, I'm usually outside.  I am outside much less than I'd like to be as a whole.  Normally, when I picture an ideal day-off, Marcus and I take Seamus for a hike somewhere, then maybe go to a park and I'd sit and read and Marcus would throw a Frisbee with Seamus.  We'd get tired, go home, grill something out, eat, maybe open a bottle of Moscato and enjoy the rest of the evening with either a movie or just visiting.  This ideal plan, however, does a whole lot better in the Spring or Fall.  

So, what about this wintry day-off?  I think people are prone to spend more money in the Winter (or in the dead of Summer in the South) because usually things that are free but not boring depend on the weather.  It's free to sit inside and work on deepening the butt-print on the couch, but that starts to get depressing, not to mention sore.  If you want to do something during these uncomfortable times of the year, usually money must be relinquished.  This brings me to another thought I've been having.

It's depressing and nearly impossible to be friends with couples who have gobs more money.  Their activities and lifestyles are shaped differently than ours.  No one is wrong or bad or whatever, but it's just tough on both.  The affluent friend suggests activities and trips and whatnot, and we have to slink away.  So we thought, okay so let's remember that we love our single friends, too, as long as they don't mind spending time with us, the couple.  The problem here is this:  When I was single, even though I only made $8/hour, I had TONS of money!  I was able to do whatever I wanted.  Money was never an issue.  Let's go to the movies!  Let's go see another movie after that!  Let's all meet at such and such a restaurant.  (I'll just have a water.  With a lemon.)  

One day something will act as the great equalizer.  Or, there will be a time when we can afford to have friends on a regular basis -- even if those friends can now afford to have Summer lodging in exotic countries and are friends with the President of the US and the Pope and whoever else, when we're just getting to where we can go out to eat anytime we want and go see two movies back-to-back.

Well, I guess I've brought up the uncomfortable subject and now everyone is shuffling their feet and dropping their eye contact and feeling weird.  Go ahead and hit the red x at the top left (Mac users) or top right (everyone else). 

And look at the time!  I'm late for my shower again!  

The 'ah-ha!' moment

I just read Donald Miller’s blog for this morning, which coincided with something I was just thinking (and this isn’t the first time this has happened with him and me.  Maybe we should be friends.  Let’s move to Portland!).  Anyway, he was talking about how people are too distracted to be brilliant anymore.  Here’s the last paragraph of his blog:

No culture in history has been more distracted. If you are wondering why there are no more C.S. Lewis’ in the world, no more stories as good as Tolkien’s, no cathedrals as great as the gothic’s, no music as moving as Pachelbel’s, it may be because the writers of these books, the tellers of these stories, the architects of these buildings and the composers of these symphonies are sitting on their couches watching television. I wonder what’s on tonight.

(The rest of Donald Miller's blog can be found here!)

His words are terrifying, even though I don't think it's as bad as all that.  There are plenty of great artists, but I think that there is more diliberate emphasis on the arts (to "save" them, if you will, for which I'm very thankful!) rather than an expected quality of life to be artistic as may have once been, if that makes any sense.  

I was sort of having a “what are we coming to?” fit of anxiety last night about the economy, about employers, about how we function as a society, and how incredibly fantastic it would be to do a cultural detox.  Maybe get out of town and make new habits.  What I thought was a separate thought from this stuff was that ever since we’ve been sitting and watching Friends every single night—multiple episodes until bedtime, I don’t have nearly as much to write about.  I don’t feel creative, and I feel less like reading my books.  Friends may need to be reduced to a once or twice a week occurrence.

I wonder if going to see a movie counts.  I’ve been itching to see something.  I haven’t seen a movie in the theater in a long time and sometimes it just helps to escape life, when life isn’t the greatest. 

We’ll see.