polar opposites

Does anyone remember a certain post of mine from '08 on the dialectical swing of the universe? Here. It's not a very good post--I just reread it--but it was interesting to me, because the concept is still very much on my mind. Things throughout history swing back and forth--action reaction--tick tock, tick tock.
But lately, I have been seeing how this applies to me, personally--to the workings inside my lil' head.

I work, earnestly, to tell the truth--not only to everyone else, but to myself. And that can be hard, if not nearly impossible. To tell the truth, you have to know what the truth is. I've noticed my thoughts about myself swing between two opposite extremes. In a nutshell: yes, I'm awesome, and no, I'm not. Some days I'm incredibly unique, hyperactive, brightly shining and off my rocker--other days I'm dull, scared, plain, sunk so firmly into normal that I barely have a pulse.

Those are both lies.

I think I've got a handle on it, now. Whenever I'm thinking something so extreme about myself--it's a lie. The truth is somewhere in the middle--perhaps not so easy to polarize and define, but blended. Perhaps a little bit of a paradox, now and then. Not high or low, but midrange. Not hot or cold, but fair. I'm a little bit of a lot of things. An alloy. Stronger than any one pure metal.

The more I can realize that--the more truth I can tell myself--the more balanced I become. More honest. More me. None of this wild swinging from one mutually exclusive extreme to the other.

 Maybe that's how everyone's mind works. I don't know. Maybe it's a little bit of the devil--he seems fond of encouraging extreme swings. I'm so thinking C.S. Lewis right now, and his statement about the "opposite and equal errors" people make about the devil. Either way, the thoughts are mine. And I'm giving them the boot.

What thoughts about yourself are rattling around inside your little head? Have you ever taken a look at the contradictions? Stop. Think. Reject the lies.

most awkward scenarios ever, part II

The company Christmas party. Yes, it’s just about that time of year again.
Office Christmas parties can be rough, even if you work with decent folks. There’s just endless opportunities for awkwardness. Example: bringing a date. Do you? Don’t you? All of the married folk will bring their spouses. Who wants to be number seven at an eight-seat table? Awkward. But so is bringing a random date to fill that eighth seat. More awkward. There is bound to be a bit of inquisition, especially since he is not a committed significant other. The best solutions I’ve come up with thus far are to a) bring my mom, or b) join forces with other single gals at the office and claim our own table.

But what if we went for a third option? What if we took the awkwardness up a few more notches? Instead of a regular date with an acquaintance—how about a blind date? Oh boy. Nothing says “doomed to fail” like a blind date at an office party.

Even better—how about all of the single girls in the office all bring a blind date? Now we’re talking pain. All of us could writhe in agony together.

But we’re not quite done—there’s one more bit of awkward joy we could add: each girl brings a buddy of hers as a blind date for one of her coworkers. We could draw names, like Secret Santa.

And the awkward bus has arrived.

So next time you’re at a company Christmas fling, single ladies—remember it could be worse. Much, much worse.

most awkward scenarios ever, part I

Sometimes it’s good to give yourself a little perspective—realize that whatever happened (or didn’t happen) isn’t, perhaps, quite as bad as you thought. Take a step back. Reduce the level of self-induced drama.

One of the most enjoyable ways to do that, in my opinion, is to imagine how horribly it could have gone.

Example: you spill half a glass of red wine on yourself at a party. Sad. But it could have been worse. You could have spilled your glass on another woman (perhaps your boss or pastor), and while floundering to help her clean up, you trip on the shag rug, accidentally grope her, and catch yourself on the wobbly end table—which has candles on it. The candles fall, and the alcohol-infused rug bursts into flame. You put it out, but burn your writing hand. You will now spend at least the next two weeks in awkward, pain-filled misery.

See, spilling some wine on yourself wasn’t so bad, after all, was it?

just another Saturday

This Saturday, my dad came over to help me limb the giant tree in my backyard. Not only is it just a bit too shady in the summer, it was also threatening my power lines and my garage. Here's a couple pics after we'd made our mess. The big branch on the driveway side is the most obvious difference, but the difficult part was on the power line side--we had to take the branches down a tiny piece at a time, mostly with a pole saw, trying to drop the branches neithr on our heads or onto the power lines. Good times. And...here's a couple pics after cleaning it all up. Happy sigh. Doesn't it look great? And I may even have enough firewood for half of next winter already.

living room

With the advent of a functional fireplace and new curtains came a distinct need to rearrange furniture. Take a peek!

Ah, the warm glow of a fire. Tasty. Yes, my brown chair is missing. It's been relocated to the bedroom--where Clifford is enjoying it pretty much 24/7.

Who can tell what's different about this wall? Ok, there's more than one thing different. It's called fire. But technically, I've only hung one more thing on the wall...

And, of course, the awesome vintage suitcase set I got for my birthday. Too good to store in a closet somewhere.

the kitchen continues

On those days when I feel like I'll just never get done with the kitchen, I take a look back, and see how far I've come...

 

 

At possession, July 2009. About five minutes before we started refinishing the cabinets.

April 2010, with new appliances, counter, and tile. Awesome linoleum remains.

September 2010, outlet covers done and window trim refinished. Curtains to come. And then, the kitchen will be "done."

the refrigerator manifesto

There are two words that can send an icy stab of horror into the most dauntless heart:
community refrigerator.
Ahhhh!

Sorry about that. I lost control for a moment there.
But having just spent waaay too long rummaging through the industrial-sized company refrigerator for my (very brightly colored and distinct) lunch bag only to find it astronomically removed from its previous location, I'm a little...out of patience. It's time to do something. Something...drastic. And somehow, this feeling is...familiar. It's time for the return--the return of...

The Kitchen Nazi!

Not since the hazy golden days of Stryker Cottage '03 has this fearsome creature truly been beheld, standing proudly--sword in one hand and spatula in the other--with her iron-fisted policies of cleanliness and order clearly posted on the wall behind her!
But it might just be time for her return. At the very least, time for her to write a few new rules for the company refrigerator. Harsh? Perhaps. But effective. As always.

The Refrigerator Manifesto

Whereby all personnel who utilize the company refrigerator do so through a wish to keep their food at the appropriate temperature, in sanitary condition, and conveniently accessible:

1. Each individual must use a designated food container to hold all of their items. This container may not be generic (as in a plastic Meijer bag), insulated (seriously--those keep your food cold without a fridge), or incapable of being moved about without spilling its contents. Clearly labeling each designated food container with the name of its owner is also strongly suggested.
2. All food must be properly contained. No open packaging. Not even in your designated food container. If you periodically cannot eat the whole fruit cup in one sitting, keep a ziploc bag in your food container to tuck the cup into until your next nibbling. And get a bigger stomach, for the love of all that's holy.
3. No loose items such as pieces of fruit, tubs of margarine, or bottles of salad dressing will be tolerated. All items must be fully contained in each individual's designated food container.*
     *The only exception to this rule is large items such as two-liters of soda and large cartons of milk or other beverages. These may be left on the bottom shelf--provided they are clearly labeled and unexpired.
4. Large, appropriately sealed, and clearly labeled takeout containers will be tolerated temporarily--provided they are not fish, and are removed within six hours of their arrival to the community refrigerator. If they are fish, and left for more than two days--God help you.
5. If it becomes necessary to move another individual's designated food container, it is expected that the mover will do their best to return the container to its original placement. If this cannot be done, a grid system will be initiated, with each individual's designated food container receiving a number that corresponds to a section of the shelving. "Parking tickets" will be issued to all who cannot respect the grid system.
6. "Community" does not mean "communal." Whether an item is labeled or not, if you eat or drink it without explicit permission, you are stealing.* If you are stealing, you're a jerk. If you're a jerk, we get to lock you in the supply closet overnight.
     *I can't believe this one even has to be listed, honestly. 
7. The community refrigerator will be scrubbed down once a week. All legitimate items will be returned to the shelves; all illegitimate items will piled up in the parking lot, doused with gasoline, and lit on fire. Or thrown away. Whatever.


And remember: if the Kitchen Nazi ain't happy, ain't no one happy. But if she is happy--she bakes! It's a win-win. Sort of.