On becoming my computer

So I've been having some trouble catching a deep breath the last few days. I remember this feeling take over me at random times in my past. It's not a feeling of pain, just a bit of suffocation mixed with a whole lot of frustration. The end of the world? No. Once every couple of tries I can catch a good deep breath and I enjoy every second of it. Letting it go with some sort of satisfying sound that I hope it recognizes as the "come back soon" I am intending.

I went to yoga to force myself to take my mind off my breath, or my breath off my mind. Whichever came first really.

As I was bending into my pained and straightened legs it hit me.

I HAVE BECOME MY COMPUTER.

You know how I complain that it is fussy? A lot? Both my complaints and my computer's fussiness? While I can click click click click click click CLICK on that darn button to upload pictures and work myself into a mad frenzy, I dare to use profanities that even this "smart" machine can't understand and it, IT, draws a blank. Like it's looking at me and saying "well I just FORGET what that button's supposed to DO so LAYOFF". (I like to pretend my computer is a cranky teenager girl).

Then... wait. That click WORKED. What did I do? How did I get it to work that time? How many clicks did I need to click before this click understood me? How can I repeat this the next time I want a picture so I can just, well, GET my picture. What's the pattern here?

That's what my breath has become. I heave, and huff, and moan, and wince and WAIT. That one worked. I am breathing a deep breath. How many huff and moan combinations was that? Or was it a wince then a heave?

The trouble here is, I don't have the answer. To either of these finicky situations.

I am sitting here, frantically clicking and heaving and clicking and heaving.

Don't feel too bad for me. 'Cause even though I made a big salad for dinner someone else, who shall remain nameless, got home before me and ate it and I was forced to eat the coconut cake that Tese and I borrowed from Mr. G's freezer.

Oh! See! I knew she would listen.

MMMmmmm.

Love Fest Hug Fest Three Across is Best.

Cousins. Three across. Awaiting the next adventure. Taking Stew by storm.

Hugs and I Love You's...

I am pretty sure we've touched on the hugs.

I am not a touchy feely type. At all. Sometimes I even look at people who I know don't know each other all that well and see them hugging, fakely, exaggerating it so as to draw attention to themselves, and I cringe.

But I do love hugs, and I love you's. Especially unwarranted ones. Today I got a lot. And so did Nonie. Poor girl. Just sitting strapped into the shopping cart minding her own business watching the singing milk cartons and tasting every sample Stew had to offer. With monster Xave grabbing her from behind for 20 minutes.

After some free samples, mini cider donuts, chicken fingers and a candy corn or two we climbed back into the car. And while everyone was tired, no one closed their eyes. A very bleary eyed Dec repeated from the back, "Emma, I love you" over and over again. Just like he does every week we are together. And I melt.

I will miss our Wednesday fundays when I start my new job, but will do my best to make some time for the four of use. Two boys and two girls, it's a perfect combo.

And plenty of hugs to go around.

Stories not found in books

Went to the vineyard in search of something.

Not sure what that something was.

And I found a 4 year old boy curling up with me in the loft "compartment" asking me to tell him stories that are not found in books.

And I found an ambitious almost 1 year old who can (shockingly) pick her own self up and get where she needs to go. Whenever she wants to go there. Even if it is in the darkness of night.

And I found my motivation to go to the vineyard summed up in the following quote in a magazine I picked up the first night:

"I hope to spend a day on Martha's Vineyard an island which has always seemed remote enough from the world to enable one to get a perspective on what is going on."
Eleanor Roosevelt

And written in the sand on the beach.

And in the smiles of my amazingly wonderful children and their equally wonderful cousin...

And then I knew that I had squeezed every single last drop out of this summer.

And I was happy.

Cereal

Maybe this comes as no surprise to you, or maybe you just simply have no idea.

I love cereal.

I could eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Unsure of when this love affair started, I am tracing its roots back to Gray Rock Park Road. I can picture the wood cabinets taller than my seven year old self. Inside held cardboard boxes whose contents tasted not unlike their container. Nothing a few scoops of sugar to cover the top couldn't fix. Mmm!! Insantly the Cheerioes became hoops for my sugar to dance through, Rice Krispies popped the sweet sound of Snap! Crackle! Sugar!

We all marveled at Dad's routine habit of mixing cereals. What?!? Combining flavorless flavors? It's so odd, so grotesque. All through my years I stare slyly at people who combined their cereals. What will their reaction be when these two worlds collide in their mouth? Will they spit it back in the bowl?

I never really got it. Until I got it.

A gross box of cereal.

Now let me be true. I require at least two cereals in the rotation to switch back and forth to each morning. Part of my bedtime routine is getting excited about which kind I'll choose in the morning. But this cereal. I was not excited.

Turns out, I had just cooked up a batch of homemade granola - not skimping on the honey and brown sugar. I decided I'd give it a whirl as a "topping" on my wheat flakes.

Cereal.

On cereal.

I didn't even spit it out.

Matter of fact it was pretty darn good. I was sad to see the wheat flakes go.

And this is what Mama Earth did.

Last night the sun set right on me. On us.

Down at the lake with the kiddos in tow.

I raced in from work and whisked them away to the beautiful out-of-doors that I had admired all day from my stuffy office window.

Determined to spend some "quality time" before the sunset, I threw blankets on them in the red wagon and wheeled them as fast as I could to the lake. To the LAKE! To the LAKE!

I was still dressed in my fashionable heels and crisp work clothes.

Nonie chewed on Dec's wandering fingers while I pulled.

Once our feet hit the soft sand, the kids dug and scooted and ran about, and played with sticks.
I sat quietly and observed them and their surroundings.

And this is what Mama Earth did.

TGIT

Thank

Goodness

It's

Today

Although the air is getting crisper

and the sun is setting earlier

and work is starting tomorrow

and I'm not getting paid as much as I would like to be

and I don't have the job I wish I did

and my computer is fussy

and I think the neighbor's have realized I'm "borrowing" their internet

and I'm just about out of garbage bags and the bin is full

and I haven't seen some family since Sunday

and I would love to make some homemade bread but I'm trying not to EAT bread

and I can't find a good deoderant that doesn't smell like b.o.

and there's no puppy to play with after work

and my "puppy jar" money was used to buy a couch

and my handyman hasn't seemed to figure out that the pile of framed items in the corner of the kitchen would look so much cuter hanging on the wall...

...I'm still happy it's today.

And I can kick off my shoes (that give me blisters and ballet-slip-right-off-my-feet-while-I'm-trying-to-walk) and give thanks for what I do have.
At the top of my list is everyone who reads this blog (unless someone not-related has stumbled across it, to which I say... my apologies).
Among other things.

Because "if we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's; we'd grab ours back".
True.

Oh and look - my chairs are making their grand debut. I managed to cover all four of them, the last while it still had 1 bolt connecting the seat to the wood. Talented? Probably. Unless you look from the bottom-up.