All That We Let In

When I initially joined this whole blogging bandwagon, I selected a “theme” that was in my general color scheme of life.  However, as many of you know, I am a woman who requires some superficial changes to be made rather frequently in order to feel … productive.  Fresh.  Absolved. 

Hence, the new theme.  I will never invest in having one designed for me — although I SO LOVE to see what people can create with their computer magic — so I perused the market of themes this afternoon and came up with what you see.  Long story longer … I need a diagnosis, people.  This rearranging-of-physical-traits is a condition.  A disease.  I swear.  And this illness is in addition to that one.  

I am obsessed with rearranging furniture.  I mean, OBSESSED.  Ask me what I did one hour before my brother and his wife descended upon my unwashed kitchen floor and half-dusted living room.  Go on … ASK! 

I rearranged the girls’ bedroom.

And the house looked like this.

Living Conditions

I will drop everything — ask Chad! — I mean EVERYTHING to push furniture around a tiny space.  Furniture rearranging is yet another form of meditation for me …  Too bad the rest of the house, the kids, and whatever project I’m supposed to be tackling magically get reorganized into the it’s-not-as-important-as-moving-the-bed-to-the-inside-wall-even-though-it’s-still-90plus-degrees-in-the-afternoon compartment of my brain.  I neglect all other responsibilities.  Just to get my furniture re-focus fix.

Here’s the real kicker … I can’t rearrange my living room.  The crème de la crème … and it just can’t be.  Too many pieces of furniture, too many humans, too many uses for the room, Feng Shui or whatever … the way you see it is the only way it will work.  (Minus the ironing board I managed to muck up during my craft attempt two weeks ago … a tale for another time.)  Boo hoo.   

So, enjoy the latest look for All That We Let In.  It won’t be the last one I let in …

Okay.  I realize I have no room to complain as my life is amazingly lovely.  But as my life continues to illustrate that I am Comedy Central for the gods … 

BenGay on the sheets — there are few better scents to wake to.  My husband and his all-powerful nose disagrees.  So, I’ve got one of these on my neck for the pinched nerve from which I am suffering and an icepack tucked into my pants for the lower back stiffness I’ve acquired overnight.  Seriously, what a catch am I?!  Couldn’t move my head this morning and had trouble making breakfast as my lower back is arguing for equal attention.  Picture the Queen of Gimp shuffling to the car like a 98 year old for my lame dropoff of children at school.  I’m obviously improving slowly as I seem to be able to sit here for a moment to say hello.

As I glanced over my recent posts, I recognized a theme:  I have become an activist.  And a vessel for change.  And a looney tune. 

I’ve managed to thoroughly stress my body out, and she doesn’t like it!  I’m losing sleep and hair and contracting issues like “neck spasms”.  Lame, lame, lame, lame, lame!  Luckily I have buddies who recognize my ablity to lose it over and over again — whatever the “it” might be at the time — and my friend Jess has advised that I read a book called MOMfulness by Denise Roy.

For all of you parents out there trying to balance kids, chaos, politics, school, soccer, PTA, piano, friends, fun, schedules, checkbooks, oil changes, and lawn-mowing … do yourself a favor.  Find a book — ANY BOOK — that you can curl up with for a few minutes every day and lose yourself in.  It doesn’t have to give you tips on how to be present in the present and it certainly doesn’t have to be another kid-friendly biography to hand over to your almost-8-year-old.  NO.  Sit down LAY DOWN and lose yourself in Fluff.  Find yourself some fluff, friends.  5 minutes of Fluff.  My new mantra.  Oh — that, and “Yes We Can”.

Before you leave me and begin your affair with Fluff, check out Callie’s words.  She brilliant.

Biden - Palin tonight.  Grab a glass of wine …