What if No One's Watching?

Remember how I had those goals for 2010? And the last time I checked in on them was in May?

Yeah. I got distracted.

So, since today is the first of the month, I'm getting back on track. Goal check-in time.

1. Take at least one overseas trip.
There are actual plans in the works! Looks like we're going to London in mid-October!

2. Read 30 books.
I'm on my way! I currently have 16 read and more in progress--the 12 Books, 12 Months club should help with this!

3. Get to a healthy size.
I did so well with this one until I started working so much. In the past few months, I've really fallen off and the weight has started to creep back up. Gotta focus here.

4. Save $500/month.
Mixed progress here. I've been saving $500/month, but I've had to raid the savings a couple of times when I've stretched myself too thin, and I am going down to 30 hrs/week at my day job, so this goal may not be possible for the rest of the year. Of course, if the freelance work continues to move at the quick pace it's been going, it will be. We shall see where I end up at the end of the year. My current balance is only $2,000 more than my January 1 balance was, so I'm not exactly on-track.

5. Give 5%.
Still on-track overall here.

6. Start retirement savings.
Still haven't made a 2010 addition to the account yet. I keep watching it go down and wondering why I should bother. But I will, before the end of the year.

7. Join something.
Still no. I've looked around a bit, but nothing has seemed worth the time and energy investment yet.

8. Write a novel.
Not sure at this point that I'm still committed to this goal. There are just too many other things I'd rather write.

9. Create something.
I ought to know better than to make goals this vague...

10. Remember birthdays and send cards.
Massive fail here. I've been negligent about even my immediate family's special days in the past few months. I have GOT to get my shit together on this one.

Not exactly an uplifting report. Guess that's what I happens when I fail to monitor my progress. Hopefully I'll be more positive next month.

It's true. I'm reigning in my thifting. Trying to get it under control. In reality, I spend way more money thrifting that I likely would if I just bought things new--that's how much stuff I buy that I don't need. And it's not sustainable, or admirable, or financially wise. So I've made some new rules for myself when it comes to hitting the thrift stores.
1. Only buy things for yourself/your household if you see an immediate use for them. Picture where they are going to go and what they're going to be used for, and if you come up blank, but it back.
2. Only buy gifts if you have a specific idea of who it will be for and for what occasion. No "that'll make a good gift for somebody."
3. Only buy things for other people if they have been specifically requested. No "I bet X would love this!"
4. Do not thrift to re-sell.

Obviously, these rules wouldn't work for everyone. A lot of people come out ahead when thrifting for re-sale. Those people are for more disciplined and knowledgeable than I am.

Yesterday, on my birthday, I set out to Unique with my new rules in mind, but no budget. The first thing I picked up was something that I originally would have thought I was buying for re-sale. Knowing that was against my rules now, I picked it up thinking, "hey, I know X would love this." And she would. But was it something I would actually get together and send at an appropriate time for a gift? I wasn't sure. I put it down. A few minutes, I returned and picked it up again, having realized that I actually wanted to keep it for myself, and could see where it would sit in my house quite clearly. As a bonus I knew Mark would love it. So I put it in the cart.

The mystery object? This perfect condition, vintage-with-original-tags dark green faux croc ice bucket. I paid $5.49 for it and really, how could I possibly have left it there?

As I browsed through the rest of the housewares, I picked things up and then returned them to the shelves several times, realizing each time that the item was not one I needed or really even wanted to have in my house. Then, in the toy section, I spotted another interesting object, this one a clear gift. It met my rules easily--I knew exactly who it would be for, and when. For $1.91, there was no need for much argument and it went into the cart. (And won't be revealed here, in case the intended recipient is a reader.)

After I'd been through all of the housewares and books, I hit clothes. I usually start with skirts and dresses, since those are what I'd most like to find. I found a gorgeous 100% silk dress with the Macy's tag advertising the $109 price tag still on it, but it fit me like a nightshirt, so it was a no-go. Great find for someone else. The skirts all seemed to be bum-length. Undeterred, I decided to have a gander at the jeans, since fall is on its way and I could really use some new ones. I was rewarded--a pair of Eddie Bauer curvy fit trouser jeans, dark wash, barely worn (if worn at all), in a size 14L. These are jeans I was 95% sure would fit, I loved the style and the wash, and they aren't a duplicate of something else I already have. Easy peasy. $6.49, and I was right, they fit perfectly.

Lastly, as always, I looked at the jewelry case. I've been really into thrifted jewelry lately. I've been really into jewelry in general, actually, and thrifting is my favorite way to get it--less expensive and more interesting stuff. Still, I was trying to be prudent, so I knew I'd have to be a bit picky. With a bit of birthday luck, though, I spotted something I'd had my eye out for--a multi-strand seed bead necklace. I've been admiring these for a bit, and had decided I really wanted a vintage one. The one I got? In perfect condition, from the late 70s or early 80s (I think), and baby pink. Perfect. At $9.99 it was a bit more than I usually pay for thrifted jewelry, but totally worth it.

I left the store having spent only about $26, which is, I am embarrassed to tell you, quite a bit lower than my usual thrift store bill. I bought only things I am 100% sure I like and have a use for, and I feel great about my purchases. Hopefully every trip under the new rules will be as great as this one!

Don't forget to go to Apron Thrift Girl and Southern Hospitality and see all the rest of the participants in Thrift Share Monday!

I don't generally post my outfits much anymore, but I was so pleased with my birthday dinner ensemble, and have lately been so into reading style blogs, I thought I'd show y'all what I wore.

Dress: vintage, thrifted
Belt: Betsey Johnson via Ross
Shoes: Sofft via 6pm.com
Purse: Chinese Laundry, thrifted
Earrings: Wild Rose Jewels on Etsy

I was born. At 2:59 in the afternoon (Pacific Time), in Cottage Grove, Oregon. I looked like this:

From what I know of it, my birth was fast and painful. I was two weeks late and healthy, if a bit on the hairy and pointy-headed side.

As I grew, I got cuter.

3 months:

6 months:

11 months:

And then, at about a year old, I became a monster. I was still cute, though.

14 months:

2 years:

3 years:

After that, I started getting less cute, and becoming more of a pain in the ass. Which lasted until...well, now, really.

And today, I am 31. A pretty long way from that cute little blonde girl. But I still see her, underneath my gray hair and my need for glasses and my mid-aged makeup-reliance. She's still here.

This month, Genie's Living Out Loud challenge was just too tempting to pass up.

Tell us some of your rules. Maybe it's how the toilet paper goes on the roll. Maybe it's something about finding the perfect mate. Maybe it's some lesson that involves hiring J. Walter Weatherman to teach your children a lesson about leaving notes. It could be one really important rule or a list of guidelines for living. But the best part is they're your rules.

Rules, y'all. I have a few. However, the real rule master at my house is Mark. Mark has tons of rules. In particular, Mark has Food Rules. Important Food Rules. Food Rules that he frowns deeply upon being broken. And, as they are a lot more amusing, and a lot easier for me to poke fun at, that my own rules, I'm going to share those with you instead.

Mark's Food Rules

1. Cheese and seafood shall never, ever, ever mix. No exceptions.


2. It doesn't matter how similar pie and cake are to pastry, the former two are desserts and the last is breakfast food.


3. Bacon may be eaten at any time of the day or night.


4. Tea and coffee are to be consumed altered to tooth-aching sweetness.


5. If it costs less than $1, it is not food.


6. There are cookies and there are biscuits. Biscuits are for tea-time, with tea, cookies are for before bed, with milk.


7. Convenience foods Mark enjoys (Chips Ahoy, pretzels, Snickers bars) are fine. Convenience foods that Grace enjoys (snack cakes of all kinds, Doritos, McDonalds) are disgusting.


8. Never eat anywhere with a drive thru.


9. Unaltered fruit is suspect. To alleviate suspicion, it must be macerated, poached, or at least sauced in some way.


10. Never eat anything that has been touched by a pickle. Pickles are from Satan.


11. There is a difference between a pickle and a cornichon.


12. There is absolutely no reason to make a simple version of anything if you have access to za'tar.

I can deal with it all except that goddamn ring.

He still wears his. Always has, I guess. It's on his pinky finger, a silver band with markings that don't mean much, unless you recognize it for what it is. They're used for wedding bands, for God's sake--I didn't realize that until I Googled the image. Song of Solomon. Calling me his, and him mine. That has to have been weird even at the time.

He wears it, he says, as a self-referential joke. The ultimate narcissism, and a sign of his sense of humor. He is his own beloved. And even though I get it, I don't think it's all that funny.

I still have mine. I could pretend I don't know where it is, but if I stretch my mind out, I can see the envelope it's in, the box of mementos. I remember where it is. What I don't remember is wearing it. I have no memory of which finger it fit, or of the day I decided to take it off. I scan through old pictures and finally spot it, on the middle finger of a clenched fist. Even with the visual prompt, it seems wrong. When I close my eyes to imagine it, I see it only on his finger, his hands always in motion, flipping a pen around in a way I tried for years to copy and have never been able to emulate.

More than anything, that's what I hate. Trying to remember this piece of my own past and being able to see it only through the lens of him. I don't have any idea how I felt when he gave me that ring, if I was excited, if I thought it was romantic. I don't have any idea how it felt to wear it, or to take it off. All I know is the irony he's turned his into. My history is erased.

Our entire interaction is like that, really. I listen while he talks, and I watch that ring flash, and I feel the pieces of who I am slip away like they're in low gravity. Nothing that comes out of my mouth sounds right, and it's like I'm watching myself, watching this scene between these awkward people. Why are these people having dinner, a drink? What do they hope to gain from spending this time? Are they telling themselves they are friends?

Every year, I forget a little more about the time we were "together"--whatever together meant then. I don't want him back; he's not the one who got away. Seeing him doesn't bring any of that up. It feels, instead, like I am an amnesiac being introduced to someone who was important in her life once, provided with objects that should prompt memories, and coming up blank. As if all I really know about that time--what should have been such an important time--is what he's telling me. And I should believe it. He still has that ring on. That proves something, right?

If life had easy cinematic symbolism, it would mean something that he still wears that ring and that mine is in a box. But it doesn't, and I believe him when he says that he wears it because he likes the way it looks, and the joke it makes. After all these years, it shouldn't bother me that the joke is at my expense. It underscores, though, the strangeness of an evening spent with him. While he's in front of me, I'm amused, smiling and laughing until my cheeks ache. Afterward, I'm cold. I can't remember anything he said, or even tell you how he looked, how he's aging. All I can see is that goddamn ring, and the only memory I can call up is a brutal one, ending in my rejection. I was sitting on a washing machine, in what I only now realize is a bookend to the washing machine I sat on the night we got together. I feel again as if this is being staged, and I'm walking ignorantly through my part, bumping into stuff. I search for a word for this feeling and can come up only with inadequate.

I've recently started to re-focus on reading ink on paper, as my friend Nonny calls it. I have always been a reader, but in recent years it's become something I have to do intentionally, rather than something that I do naturally, which I frankly do not like. I want to return to being a natural reader. Anyway, today's blog reader perusing (and yes, I realize that my voracious blog consumption is probably partially to blame for not reading as many books as I used to) led me to my friend Jenny's post on 12 Books, 12 Months, a challenge from The Latter Day Bohemian. The idea is simple--make a list of 12 books that are already in your to-be read pile and commit to read them over the next 12 months. The rules are like so:
12 Books, 12 Months Challenge
* Pick 12 titles from your To Read Pile. These should be titles you currently own in whatever format you prefer.
* Acquisition of other formats or translations is permitted. So, if you have a paperback but want to read on your Kindle, you can get a Kindle copy. If you have a library copy but want to buy your own, that's kosher. Heck, if you own a copy and want to check another out from the library, I'm not gonna stop you.
* Post your list in your public space of choice by September 1, 2010. If you prefer not to post, you can just leave a comment with your list.
* Read all 12 titles between now and September 5, 2011. Might as well tack on an extra long weekend at the end for cramming.
* When you finish a title on your list, post about it in your public space of choice. If you prefer not to post, you can just leave a comment with your review.
* Once a month, I'll post a round-up of the reviews posted from that month so that we all know what everyone else has read.

I'm in! Between this and the Indiespensable book club from Powell's, maybe I'll get some actual reading done in the next year!

My 12 Books:

1. Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami: gift from my friend Hala, who swears I'll love it


2. Ink-Stained Amazons and Cinematic Warriors: Superwomen in Modern Mythology by Jennifer K. Stuller: gift from my friend and co-blogger Skye. A couple of our reviews at Heroine Content are actually cited in this book, and I have been looking at it longingly for months.


3. Our Bodies, Ourselves and the Work of Writing by Susan Wells: I was so excited about this coming out that I pre-ordered it and waited for it with baited breath, and since it's arrival it hasn't even been cracked. Embarrassing.


4. Young, White, and Miserable: Growing Up Female in the Fifties by Wini Breines: this has been on my bookshelf for years. I have no idea where it came from, but it keeps getting passed over.


5. Dangerous Woman: The Graphic Biography of Emma Goldman by Sharon Rudahl: this one actually breaks the rules, since I don't already have it. However, it has been on my "MUST BUY" list forever, so I'm going to use this excuse to get it.


6. Mama, Ph.D.: Women Write About Motherhood and Academic Life by Caroline Grant: Another one that I just *had* to have and then it sat on the shelf for a year or more. Sensing a pattern?


7. The Lives They Left Behind: Suitcases from a State Hospital Attic by Darby Penney: And again. Had to have it, didn't read it.


8. Cherry and Lit by Mary Karr: I bought Mary Karr's whole memoir trilogy this year, but I only actually read The Liar's Club. I enjoyed it, though, so I'd probably be well-served to read the other two books.


9. Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout: my mom gave me this for Christmas last year and has asked at least a half dozen times since then if I've read it yet, so I'd better read it.


10. Diary by Chuck Palahniuk: another one that has been sitting around at my house for quite a while, and I've never picked it up.


11. Sickened: The True Story of a Lost Childhood by Julie Gregory: I thrifted this back when I was in a "horrible memoirs" period, then the phase ended and I didn't read it. I should either read it or get rid of it.

Anybody else want to join in?

I've mentioned my love for classic country music before. I am a complete sucker for that sound--Waylon, Willie, Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, Kris Kristofferson, you name it. Good lyrics about hard lives with a twanging guitar. Gets me every time.

So, flipping channels a few weeks ago, I stopped when I saw Shooter Jennings. I like Shooter Jennings--don't love him, haven't bought an album, but have been interested in what I've heard. And then I saw that he was singing with another man. A bearded dude who reminded me a whole lot of a country version of a younger James Hetfield. They were singing a song about "between Jennings and Jones." And two verses in, I was hooked.

Jamey Johnson is the first musician I've heard since the day I was introduced to Grace Potter & the Nocturnals several years ago that has really struck any cord at all with me. And as I listened to him swap songs with Shooter, I liked him more every time he opened his mouth. That gravel voice, soft Alabama accent, no-bullshit guitar. Wonderful.

As soon as the show was over, I hopped on iTunes and looked for the album with the Jennings and Jones song on it. I found out it was Johnson's first studio album, "That Lonesome Song", and decided to take a chance, spend my $10, and buy the whole record.

Every song on it is good. And a few of them are great. I think my favorite is Mary Go Round, but I'd probably tell you different on another day. The lyrics are poetic, but straightforward, and the music is all traditional country, with an occasional moment that makes you think a bit of southern rock (think Skynyrd). The influences are pretty clear--I can't help but hear Merle Haggard in The Cost of Living High and Waylon himself on Between Jennings and Jones, and the pun of Mary Go Round is all Kristofferson--but this is a tribute more than an impersonation, and Johnson's original songs are so good I didn't for a second wish he would just give up and do covers (which tends to be the case whenever I hear anybody with a good classic country voice).

So, now that I have That Lonesome Song more or less memorized, I'm going to buy Johnson's second studio album, the double "The Guitar Song" as soon as it comes out in September. And these are the first records I've bought in years, y'all. Even with Grace Potter, I was satisfied to buy one. This is a big endorsement coming from me.

So if you like classic country, here's what I want you to do. Go here and watch the video for "In Color" or here to watch "Mowin' Down the Roses." Look how cute he is! Listen to how great those songs are! Then run out and buy his CD or his MP3s. Then come back and thank me.

I don't watch CNN at home. I don't have a particular issue with it, I just don't care for it. At my parents' house, however, it is often on. Today, I watched a segment about Barack Obama's faith (hint: he's not Muslim!). And it reminded me of something.

I really like Barack Obama. I haven't been thrilled with his presidency so far--he's made some decisions with which I disagree, and hasn't made the kind of gains my wildest dreams would dictate. But I really honestly like him. When I see him speak, I am neither disgusted nor irritated. Mostly, I agree with what he says, and even when I don't, I like the way he says it. I like his smile. I believe that he seems, to the degree possible for his position, to mean well.

This has never been true for me before. I remember presidents back to Reagan, and never before have I felt any particular affinity for the POTUS. And, having never liked the president, I never realized that liking the president would be so nice. Obama doesn't embarrass me. I'm proud to live in the nation for which he serves as leader. Even if he doesn't do a quarter of what I'd hoped he would (and, at this point, I don't think he will), he'll have given me the gift of a president I could stand.

I am in beautiful rural Oregon, at my parents' house. With the exception of one-probably brief-conference call tomorrow, I have no work obligations. I have no real social obligations. I could, probably, turn off my computer now and not have any pressing reason to turn it back on for the rest of the week.

This is the time I've been desperately needing to unwind. I've been traveling and working two jobs for months and I'm a tense, paranoid, ball of stress. I'm not eating right, exercising, or sleeping well. I'm irritable, panicky, and burst into tears easily. Life isn't bad--it's just busier than I can apparently handle.

And yet, I'm not unwound. I have the constant feeling that I should be doing something and I'm not. I'm still not sleeping well or eating right. My stomach is giving me a lot of problems. Last night, I had mystery hives. I'm worried all the time that there is someone I should be seeing, some obligation I haven't met.

My hope is that a couple more days of enforced down time (and less online time, which I've been pretty good about since we got here on Friday) will mediate whatever switch in my head is stuck on overdrive. By the time I head home, I really want to feel centered and competent again. This place, I know, is pure peace. I just have to figure out how to let it in.