On the subject of TV

My relationship with TV has been an on again off again romance. As a child, I mostly eschewed cartoons in favor of playing outside. But around middle school when body parts are growing rapidly, hormones rear their ugly head and one makes poor choices in hair salons, I got pretty into TV. Everything from Divorce Court to Oprah to the comforting TGIF prime time lineup. In 88-89, basically on a Friday night, unless my ONE friend wanted to go roller skating, it was pretty much going to be me, Balki and Cousin Larry. It was helpful to have something that kind of felt like company before I was cool enough to have much. (I don't know if I ever actually hit "cool" but I somehow figured out that confidence was an acceptable substitute and have been going with that ever since to varying degrees of success.)

In college, TV was out. Way out. I had absolutely no idea who Dawson was and I could not pick any of the Party of Five cast out of a line up. Still! That whole mid 90s TV era is Greek to me. From the time I gave away my tiny television my Freshman year, until I got married in 2006, I did not own a television. I just didn't need one. I didn't use one at all until 2004, when my friends and I discovered the crack-level addiction that is 24. For weeks, I ate, breathed and dreamed Jack Bauer. How, for example, if I had a dog, I'd name it after him.

When I first got married, my husband and I religiously watched The Sopranos, Six Feet Under and Lost. These were all such high-quality, engaging shows with great writing and acting. I found myself thinking about the characters from Six Feet Under, frequently. It felt like they lived right down the street and any one of them could wander into my kitchen at any moment. Sadly, that never happened. But I loved those shows and I miss them.

Motherhood does weird things to tv watching. On the one hand, we didn't want to expose Little Miss to too much tv, so we mostly kept it off. But when you are up with a fussy baby at 3am with no sleep in sight, you just stare lifelessly at whatever you can find that doesn't have sex and violence in it in the middle of the night. Let me tell you - slim pickin's. You're basically limited to the movie Mama Mia and infomercials. I almost called for a set of those knives once - what can I say? Sleep deprivation makes a crazy person out of anyone.

Recently, I have discovered a few shows that I really like via Netflix streaming. I watched all of Once Upon a Time Season 1 a month or so ago. Despite my skepticism that a grown up show about Fairy Tales could be all that interesting, I really got into it. I began to think about the characters when I was away from them a little bit - it felt nice to know that the odd decent narrative or two is still out there to enjoy. A couple of weeks ago, I started Season 1 of Revenge. I may have found my favorite character, ever, in the female protagonist, Emily Thorn. She does bad things for good reasons. So much to consider, in the realm of moral dilemma! I used to think fiction (books and movies) were kind of a waste of time. I favored theology, self-help and how-to type books in the name of attempting to become a "better" person, whatever that means. But what I've realized about good fiction - it makes me think a lot more than those books that told me what to do and what not to do ever did. Fascinating characters, impossible choices, redemption. There is wisdom to be found in a good story.

On the subject of baking

Sometimes I feel like I should bake. People bake. Lots of people. Women, yes. But also men. My husband makes a mean Christmas cookie and my dad occasionally throws together a nice sourdough loaf. Not me, though. Trust me, I see the gorgeous confections all of you crazy people on Pinterest pin and I, for a moment, let my mind wander cheerfully in the realm of possibilities.

"I could totally make those vintage blueberry bliss bars that are dusted with the finest of powdered sugars...I could so make them. And I'd wrap them up and tie bows around them and give them to the people I love!"

And then I remember, my baking adventures have always ended poorly. Burnt. Shapeless. The wrong color. Sour?

Sadly, oh so sadly, I'm not a baker. And here is why:

I am hard wired to solve problems and improve processes. I sit at traffic lights and think about how if only this particular light changed with a green arrow first, it would have a change reaction-type effect and solve traffic problems all the world over. At the grocery store, I can think of 487 ways to increase productivity and make my line go faster - not that anyone is interested, mind you. I am sorry to confess that when I meet someone, inside, I'm like "What a beautiful girl...a little lipstick would make that 9 a solid 10, though!" Don't worry - I do it to my kid, too.

"Oh, this drawing rocks! Maybe just one more leg on that horse and you're in business!"

So, yes, I'm super critical about dumb stuff and it doesn't matter whether I'm an authority on the matter or not. The same applies for my self, of course - I just don't have time to color my roots right now, ok?!

How does this relate to baking? (You might be, totally understandably, wondering.) Well, it's like this. I see the ingredient list, and I think "Sure, sure. 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract would be fine. Acceptable. Good enough. Adequate. But perhaps...just maybe...a whole teaspoon could just knock it right out of the park." I know how crazy this is. I don't know how to bake. And I know I don't know how. But somehow, the most prideful, arrogant, elitist part of me thinks she knows better than Betty freaking Crocker. And I end up with crappy cookies.

So I don't bake.

I can help you with your resume. I can recommend a good product for curly hair. I can keep your children alive while you go to yoga class. But you're in charge of the cake.

On the subject of needed items

So we're moving into this new house. This house is bigger than the one we live in now. It has a bigger yard. It's in better shape. Overall, it's a pretty sweet upgrade from what we've been living with for the past 7 years. So, even just moving what we have into a larger, newer space is a real improvement. And yet...

I have this...list. And the list is growing.

Living room furniture - the living room we have is kind of mushed together. Nothing really matches. The couch is a decade old and has truly seen better days. I can count at least seven people besides the residents of this house who have slept on it more than once. And four different cats.

A gas stove - much to my chagrin, as will be thoroughly elaborated on in a future post, the new house has an electric stove. I strongly prefer gas. I feel so strongly about it that I have a working theory that the people in this world who are terrible cooks are not actually terrible cooks - they just have electric stoves. I want a gas stove. I'd rather have a 100 year old, tiny, rusty gas stove than the fancy new electric one that is ruining my life right now. (See! I really do feel like a gas stove would significantly raise my overall life quality right now.)

New dining room table and chairs set - see, we have one already. But it's small. Actually we have two. I forgot about the one we have in the basement that we don't really have room for right now. (This is what is wrong with America, People! We have entire DINING ROOM SETS in our basements that we kind of forgot about because they are hidden under an obscene and unnecessary number of towels!)

There are other things further down the list, and there are things my husband has on his list like a suspended train track for his electric train that goes through the entire house. :/ I think we all know that the train track line item will be meeting its death via red pen in short order. Aside from that, I have dreams of retaining walls, hedges, a third bathroom, elaborate lighting schemes, patterned area rugs, accent pillows, swooping curtains, a playroom, a bigger kitchen, a second floor. Le sigh.

What I've been thinking about regarding all of this is that I need to see it as a journey, not a destination. I need to have a vision for what I ultimately want and figure out how to do it a little at a time. It's really not that hard and it doesn't have to be so dramatic. The part I struggle with, though, is the false belief that acquiring all of these things I want will make me happy or content or somehow erase the "want" feeling I often have. History tells me that whenever I get what I want, I just want something else. Over and over and over this happens. And yet, I fall for it constantly. Life is tricky that way.

There is this bible verse that talks about being content in all circumstances. And that the secret to that contentedness is knowing that we can do all things through God. This is fascinating to me. Because it's like a real answer to this weird problem. It's like we get locked into the idea of one way of doing something. And yet, there are many roads to our end goal. Some we've never even thought of. If I think about why I want something - a gas stove - and I realize it comes down to feeding my family and friends so that they feel loved and cared for by me, then I can consider that I can probably do that with whatever God has provided - in this case, an electric stove. Or pizza.

It's really just a matter of the ultimate want or need. And being flexible in regard to the path of getting there. I want people to feel comfortable and cared for in my home. I may just need to get used to the idea that this is possible even if they are eating stir fry clumsily made on an electric burner and sitting on a toy box instead of a chair.

On the subject of home buying

Hey, I bet I am the ONLY person to decide to make the New Year's Resolution to write more. It was a genius idea, really. Everyone else is out there volunteering, spending less money and forgoing carbs while I'm here pounding away at the keyboard on my own. Pshaw. In reality, I bet Blogspot is as overloaded this month as the eliptical machines at the gyms that offer those January introductory rates. Everyone is starting their new, awesome blog this week. I guess my goal is to be just a tiny bit more awesome than some.

So here we are - let's get right into it.

Today, since the email machines are down at work, I've been going back and forth between looking at spreadsheets with numbers that make my eyes tired, deciding what to eat for lunch and talking to people on the phone about hardwoord floor refinishing. You see, I'm in the middle of buying a house. And selling a house. This chapter of life falls somewhere on the "EXTREMELY COMPLICATED LIFE SITUATIONS" scale between planning the exit strategy in Afghanistan and making the perfect play list for running that 5k you don't feel like doing. Ok, it's probably a little closer to the play list on the continuum. But seriously.....seeeeriously. This is hard, Guys.

I generally like making decisions. Ice cream flavors? Sure. Vacation destinations? Absolutely. Christmas portraits of my child? No problem. (Those Target portrait Studios people who try to sell you every product known to man with your kid's face on it, don't know what hit them when I sit down at that little kiosk.) Which wine to pair with the chicken - I'm your girl. It's not that I know any more about any of those things than anyone else. In fact, my husband almost always hates the ice cream flavor I buy.

But, it's just that my personality type is one that feels better once the decision has been made. The limbo of pros and cons and hemming and hawing just isn't for me. Most decisions do not have a major impact on my life, so I just forge ahead and pick one. But the decisions I am making now do seem to carry with them a lot of weight. This house or that one. This mortgage or the other one. This preschool or that. Sanding or sandless floor refinishing. Ok, maybe that last one isn't THAT major. But lumped in with all of this other stuff...it all feels so...final. Like we're really locking it in, here. It's not like the Bachelor where you pretend to have every intention of marrying someone, get your reality show participation stipend or whatever and then go back to Missouri and marry the girlfriend you didn't tell anyone about. It's not like bangs that you can just pin back and wait until something cool happens to them as they grow. We're totally reorienting our lives here.

It helps to know that other people, like LOTS of other people, have done this before. I'm big on "if THAT person can do it...SURELY we can figure this out." Right? The truth is...I have no idea what I'm doing. But I am, fortunately, surrounded by people who 1. do and 2. love me and have my best interests in mind. My genius husband. My helpful parents. My engineer uncle. The one thing I've learned is this: when you're in uncharted waters, call someone with a bigger boat. Oh, and it helps if you're nice to those people BEFORE you need them.