Treatment

I found this article particularly interesting today, per a discussion with my husband last night about how to address those living in sin. I must agree that the way to do this is not to picket the sinner (or in this case the instigator of sin), but to be very realistic in your assessment and treatment of him or her. Right or wrong, people are people, and each and every one is different.

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Everything We Need

Every once in a while I have these abstract fleeting thoughts of “wouldn’t it be nice?” Like the other day I was thinking of how nice it would be to live on a quaint farm in a barn-red house, raise horses, have great big dogs, be nestled in a vast field at the foot of a mountain, and sleep soundly at night with my husband holding me close and the dogs keeping my feet warm.

But then it hit me: We have everything we need. So my mountains are big cities and my vast field happens to be a school’s property. My big dogs and horses are actually a clever friendly cat, and my red farm house is a cozy apartment. I still curl up at night with a husband holding me close and a cat curled at my feet. We have everything we need.

A Day of Epic Nothing

Today I woke up to a message from an Aunt asking me about Renfaire costumes, and I thought to myself, “Denise, it’s Renfest season. You’re probably going to sell lots of stuff. But you can’t sell it till you make it.” So I declared today a “finish my current projects” day. I know I declared that on last week, but it didn’t quite work out. Then I checked my email and calendar to brows upcoming events. And there on my calendar was the snag of the day: clean out the oven and call maintenance.

You see, ladies and gents, last Saturday my dear husband and I managed to catch our oven on fire. My husband managed to put it out while I danced around like a sim, and we determined that it was probably a grease fire. So I was to clean out the water and grease today and call maintenance so that if the house catches on fire when we try to turn it on again, someone is there who is more responsible than me and I don’t get slammed with “you burnt down our apartment building!” bills. (Okay, not that bad, but a similar concept). While cleaning out the greasy muck in the oven, I bumped the contact on the bottom of the oven a few times (the thing that gets hot) and then I bumped it, and something behind the oven popped real loud and there was a flash of light.

O.O
O.O”
(O.O)”

I was a bit freaked out. And thus I called our lovely maintenance line informing them of the situation. “We’ll send someone right over.” So. In about 5 min or so I’m going to call them back, because it’s been about 20 minutes and I really don’t want my apartment to go up in flames. I’m waiting for them to come find out what’s wrong so that I can continue my day and finish my sewing projects.

If I’m really good. I’ll squeeze in a hair cut.  I don’t think I’m quite that good. But I’ll sure try.

All in all, today’s been a long day of “I’ll get it done; oh no, wait”. Lots of nothing. Technically lots of something that amounts to nothing, so still, in my book, nothing. *sigh*oh to be productive again.

Fresh Start

I was one of those kids that grew up in one house. Our family never moved. I went to the same school for 13 years, had many of the same friends when I graduated that I did in middle school, and they continue to be my friends today. So you would think that I would be quite uncomfortable with change, but really, it came quite naturally.

I remember my first brother going to college was really no big deal. He lived with us, went to a community college nearby, and I still saw him about the same amount. My second brother moved out for college, but was still nearby, and I didn’t really see him any less either. When I went to college the thing that really changed was that I didn’t see my friends quite as often; and I didn’t really mind all that much. We had phones and Facebook, email and texting. We stayed in touch.

When I got married I moved out, and it was a very natural transition. I started living with my best friend, who was so much my best friend that in all senses of the word, we’ve become each other. We moved into Columbia near his job, and life was lovely. We’ll be moving to another apartment nearby this year, and I find myself looking forward to it.

I enjoy having the occasional fresh start. The new paint on the walls, figuring out where to tack your nails and hang your pictures. Even the change of scenery I like, however small or slight. I remember since I was young I would occasionally re-arrange my room (with or without my parent’s permission) just to get a fresh look at things. And now with vast discussions of “where to move next?” I find myself considering far away places like Arizona, Seattle, Anchorage, and Vancouver with as much ease as nearby places like Northern Virginia and NYC. Oh how lovely to have a dry heat in Arizona, to go hiking and swimming and rafting without the suffocation of humidity lingering in the air. Or to wake up to an overcast Seattle morning and purchase my flowers from the lady on the corner. Oh how beautiful to wake up to a New York wiped clean by a fresh thick layer of snow. To watch it melt in Vancouver where the landscape is so glorious that the snow is as fresh as another lovely dress on a beautiful woman.

Likewise I find myself changing little things in my own home here and there. Tacking sheets to my walls and ceiling in my bedroom because I’m pursuing a gypsy-bohemian look for the week. Hanging mirrors different ways in my kitchen so it looks larger and still classy-cute. Shifting furniture in the living room to make the room larger and more functional. Even something small as doing the dishes and scrubbing the kitchen counter.

I love the fresh start.

Drab-itis

I’ve been feeling rather drab lately. Call it under the weather or waking up with a funk, on the wrong side of the bed, socks inside-out, underwear over your eyes, or what you will. Okay, granted that last one was a lil strange. >.>

Bottom line is: I just need to DO something. So here it is: my pledge to get off my arse, every week day of every week, and DO something. You people can keep me accountable. Right? Can you? Pleeeeease? I thought so. 🙂 Continue reading