This post is the blog version of me running into a meeting fifteen minutes late, sweating even though it's -11 degrees outside (that's not hyperbole, it's -11 degrees outside right now), carrying thirteen different notebooks and four bags hoping that one of them contains the notes I need. Am I too late? Can I still participate? (Am I fired?)
In 2015, nothing changed and everything changed. We brought a new human into the world and our hearts grew three sizes and I now catch vomit in the palm of my hand...but I don't feel all that different. My street got its first handlebar mustache, a sure sign that our neighborhood is headed for bigger and better and more hipster-y things. Ike hasn't been on a walk since February (that's not true but I think that's how he feels.) Y started his first office job, and I had to coach him through traumatic experiences like "people keep interrupting me and I can't get anything done" and "OUR PRINTER NEVER WORKS."
I always like to use these "currently" templates to reset writer's block:
reading It's What I Do, by Lyndsey Addario -- the memoir of a photojournalist who runs toward bombs in Istanbul, sneaks into remote towns in Iraq, and wanders through Darfur without water. I like reading about brave women because frankly, I am not one. (I cried at a bat mitzvah because the DJ wanted me to play a game where balloons would be popped in my vicinity. I was 30.)
writing in THREE of those novelty journals that places like Anthropologie basically force me to buy every time I walk in the door: Q&A A Day, Mom's Q&A A Day, and Mom's One Line a Day. When Chronicle Books outlined their ideal target market, they basically drew a picture of me.
listening to D's sound machine, which is an old iPod tuned to a white noise album on Spotify. My "Discover Weekly" on Spotify is so sad. It's all ocean sounds and meditation albums.
thinking about which critically acclaimed drama* Y and I should take on next. We're just starting season 2 of Fargo.
* "If you've ever held someone you love and watched hours of critically acclaimed dramas, you've experienced the peak of human happiness." -- Aziz Ansari
smelling lingering garlic from the disaster of a crockpot meal I tried to make yesterday. I really want to be an amazing cook, but I just don't think it's going to happen. I'll stick with baking and restaurants and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
hoping that I can find some way to sweat this week. Some days I manage to work out 5 times in a week, sometimes it's once.
wearing This dress that I tried on thinking was just a dress, but quickly realized was actually loungewear - a word that I feel really fancy saying. For this lounge-y Sunday, I've paired it with a simple pair of snow boots in case I need to let the dog out.
loving INSTACART. LISTEN. They brought my groceries to. my. house. At 9 pm on a Friday. I love the future so much.
wanting ice cream. I am broken, y'all. The colder it gets, the more I crave ice cream. D is in the middle of an epic nap, but I'm thinking we might need to go on an ice cream date to Milkjam -- the latest ice cream shop to hit Minneapolis (it looks like a cross between Jeni's and Milk Bar and I am SO DOWN) -- when she wakes up.
needing to think about packing for our next adventure, to exotic and mysterious Wisconsin.
feeling panicky. Nap time is a beautiful, wonderful thing, but I panic throughout each and every one. Should I clean? No, why waste precious free time with something boring like that -- read blogs! No wait, work out! No wait, write something! No wait, read a book! Just when I decide what to do, she wakes up.
clicking the Zillow app. We have no plans to move but in the summer I like to walk around the lake and imagine what the multi million dollar houses on the shore look like inside. Now I'm in hibernation mode and I have to be creative, so I just look at the multi million dollar houses on Zillow. Pro: I can actually peek inside them. Con: this activity yields far fewer steps on an activity tracker.