Poise

HOPE

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

-Emily Dickinson

One more day. Couldn't decipher enough at the appointment today. I needed 3-6 follicles sized between 10 and 13 mm, and I had two 9s, an 11 and a 13. I got a big shot in my hip and my soul is praying with a decade's worth of patience that the 9s grow by tomorrow. Otherwise we have to wait another cycle and I have to take the dizzies again. (Which is worse, the dizzies or more patience?) Greg is optimistic. I'm all over the place between the perching and the fluttering.

Elephant(s)

I need to address the elephants in the room.

I've been on some oral meds for IVF this week. The pills say "may cause extreme dizziness/drowsiness" and I'm taking double doses of both. (Go, follicles, go!) I'm dizzy. Dizzy like my eyeballs shudder back and forth inside my sockets as if they are cold. Dizzy like I can't see clearly enough to sew or write with a pen. Dizzy like I should not drive (but have to, since Greg is out of town). Dizzy like I think I'm talking normally and then I hear myself and want to slap myself out of it. Today is the last day of the dizzy meds. I really hope they wear off sometime tomorrow.

I'm awake but the eyeballs are making it hard to do anything. The only thing I can do is think. And I think I realized why I just had a holy flippin' freakout.

Because it's the middle of November and I haven't done one thing for Christmas. I'm usually 50% prepped by now. I'm usually Superwoman. I'm usually Crafty Crafterson knee-deep in thoughtful, homemade riff raff guaranteed to burst hearts on Christmas morning by now. But this year? Zilch.

I've been thinking about all I want to do and I'm overwhelmed. My dizzy brain remembered that little riddle, "How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time." The problem is I'm eating 18 elephants*. I have eaten each of the 18 elephants anywhere from 0-20%. Why finish one project when you can start two more?

I've also been thinking about my friend Jason Sherwood. He helped start a company called Choffy. Once he posted an article on facebook about multi-tasking versus switch-tasking. I actually read it because I pride myself in being a successful multi-tasker. The moral of the experiment (that was heavily researched, lots of data) was that you will get more accomplished if you switch-task (do one project at a time) than if you multi-task. It seemed like sacrilege when I read it. Today it seems like sagely needed advice.

Coldplay's lyric SLOW IT DOWN also comes to mind. This year I will have to slow it down. There will be other years to shame Martha Stewart with all that I accomplish. This year I just need to unwind and unravel and let life catch up to me. It would also be great if the catching involves lasting pregnancy.

I think the only way I am going to get through the holidays is to eat one elephant at a time.

With my new plan of Elephant Attack I devoured #15 in four separate days last week. My trusty Purdy is washed, shaped and back in its case. I am currently chewing on #11. That one is time-sensitive. Then I will move on to a festive, fun, delicious beast.

Chomp.

*There is an elephant in the photo.

*Partial List of My Elephants Just to Prove I'm Legitimately Stressed

1. Plant bulbs because I am sick of never seeing daffodils in April
2. Use Kohl's cash by Nov 10- Food Network Dutch oven
3. List old camera on ebay
4. Nordstrom return, look for houndstooth Topsiders
5. Buy a swim cap so I can keep mastering the freestyle
6. Order Amazon movies for bed rest entertainment
7. Schedule a dental cleaning for Lucy
8. Christmas cards? Pictures?
9. Digital video editing from present back to 2009. Yikes.
10. Continue to wonder why iTunes never syncs on my iPad but does on Greg's
11. Finish the ORECK holiday catalog
12. Five baby gifts
13. Find RE piano teacher
14. Thanksgiving menu
15. Paint exterior doors (trim + door)
16. Type recipes
17. RE's 2 secret sewing projects for Christmas
18. Greg's birthday Monday. Hopefully all he wants is properly-sized follicles and an apple pie because I'm not capable of much else at the moment.

Independence

 

I would rather fold 50 fitted sheets than confront someone, so I hope this doesn't sound confrontational.

My beautiful country that was founded on pristine moral principles and inalienable rights has reduced itself to a raucous ruckus of contention, blame, ridicule, apathy and jargon. Tolerance is demanded by most and given by few. Self-interest trumps virtue all day long. The current political climate is less than balmy.

Still, I am lucky to be an American. I just read that our Constitution is 225 years old and that every nation in the world (excepting six) has adopted a written constitution based on ours. I believe the U.S. Constitution is a holy, inspired document. Have you read it since 9th grade?

Immeasurable effort and lives were given to establish my freedoms, one of which is the right to say whatever I want. Just because I have the right to say whatever I want doesn't mean I actually should. Even Bono sang ONE LIFE, YOU'VE GOT TO DO WHAT YOU SHOULD.

Before I am a citizen, a partisan, a party member or an affiliate I am a member of the human family and a daughter of God. Having the right to speak your mind does not outweigh the commandments to love thy neighbor (and thy enemies) and adhere to the Golden Rule. Quentin Cook said,

It is appropriate to disagree, but it is not appropriate to be disagreeable. How we disagree is a real measure of who we are and whether we truly follow the Savior.

I believe in thinking. I believe in thinking forcibly. I believe in standing up intelligently for your cause. I do not believe in bullying or mockery. I do not believe in throwing friendship, loyalty or compassion out the window simply because someone likes a different candidate or proposition than I do. I also love vegans while I myself adore meat, especially a garlic-rubbed tri-tip hot off the grill. I can agree to disagree.

Use your head but don't forget you have a heart. Kindness matters.

*Picture of a plastic wrap statue someone staked in their yard for Halloween. I was driving by and saw it, swerved, parked, captured it. People that can do figures are amazing. I got a C+ in Figure Drawing at BYU. Hated that class.

Mirror Mirror

Twice a year, six months apart, I leave my dental exam in Provo and autopilot myself to the bareMinerals boutique at the University Mall. My perfect teeth are cheap to maintain, so I spend the equivalent of two fillings on mineral-based facial happiness/snake oils to even things out. Last Wednesday, after a cavity-free status update, I got some products guaranteed to shrink my pores and boost cellular turnover. The shopping bag they came in was the best gift of all. Printed on the bottom panel of the inside of the bag:

PRETTY IS NOT ENOUGH. PRETTY CAN TURN HEADS, BUT BEAUTY? BEAUTY CAN CHANGE THE WHOLE WORLD. PRETTY IS WHAT YOU ARE, BUT BEAUTY IS WHAT YOU DO WITH IT.

I love it. Pretty is not enough. Pretty is easy enough, though.

Here's my path to pretty:

• Step 1: Neutralize and conceal 80% of my face. Melasma, broken capillaries, discolorations, dark circles, veins on my eyelids, you name it. They're masked by miracle powders applied with expensive brushes.
• Step 2: Add a faux healthy glow and rosy cheeks. Despite adequate sleep, lengthy cardio and complete nutrition I can't seem to earn those characteristics on my own.
• Step 3: Photoshop. If my good looks are going to be catalogued in a digital vault there is always Photoshop. I have erased a major blemish off of my face in every family picture for the last decade. (My puberty is never-ending. Seriously, it will stop the day before I hit menopause.) I can adjust the levels, brightness and contrast to create thicker hair, brighter teeth and bagless eyes. If I adjust the levels enough I eventually look like Katie Holmes when she had an A-line and straight-across bangs. (I liked that look on her.) Levels are everything. No need for my posterity to know what I really looked like.

So that's pretty. Pretty makes me happy for a few moments. I feel good knowing I've maximized my physical shell.

BEAUTY is a whole other ball of wax.

I feel beautiful whether or not I have done my PRETTY routine.

I feel beautiful when I make an awesome dinner and when I don't murmur about Greg and RE turning everything they own inside out in the laundry hamper.

I feel beautiful when I shut my mouth. Don't say it. Don't say the mean thing. Move on.

I feel beautiful when I stop to really think about how awesome my friends are and what great qualities they have. I am so lucky to have beacons of light all around me, constantly brightening my way.

I feel beautiful when I take a quick detour to serve someone besides myself.

I feel beautiful when I remember to thank Greg for going to work every day so that I can stay home. While I stay home I cook and clean and watch the last six minutes of BBC's North and South over and over again. Best post-Victorian kiss in a train station ever.

I feel beautiful when I stop to notice that everything has worked for my good. There has been no tragedy in my life that is immutable. Life will continue to work out.

I feel beautiful when I look around my house and in my closet and decide that it's enough for now. I shall make the most of it.

I feel beautiful when Greg gives me compliments that have nothing to do with my looks.

I feel beautiful when I make good choices. When I'm not a hypocrit. When I'm thankful for all that the Lord has given me. And it all does come from the Lord.

Audrey Hepburn said it best:

For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.

Pretty is not enough.

Recipes

One night after dinner Greg casually mentioned that he needed a four-page newspaper ad by the morning. Instead of flipping my lid I said, “Okay, I’ll make your ad, but only if you stay up with me and make Cook's Illustrated Cinnamon Swirl Brioche.” He agreed. Six hours later, just as I was finishing the last ad, the bread came out of the oven at 3 a.m. Greg had fallen asleep next to me, but I couldn’t be mad at him since he tried to be my wingman. The bread was so good we deemed it worthy of a holiday tradition. We plan on making it for all future Christmas mornings.

Last Friday I attempted to knock off Giordano’s deep dish pizza. Greg and I went to Chicago for our 9th anniversary, caught a Cubs’ game, took a picture in front of the silver jellybean and ate at Giordano’s for lunch and dinner. You can actually mail-order a Giordano’s pizza for around $60. Cheapskate that I am, I recreated our beloved pizza in hopes that it would be the catalyst to Friday Awesomeness. The pizza was disgusting. It was so bad that just thinking about it makes my tummy hurt. It tasted like the secret ingredient was fermented cornmeal. I’m still baffled at its awfulness, especially since it was also from Cook's Illustrated. In fact, this was a second attempt. I tried it the day before but the dough didn't rise right and it got heaved in the garbage while I willfully vowed to not let this recipe get the better of me. It makes me mad when I spend three hours cooking trash.

Sometimes you just can’t win.

I have tried nearly 60 new recipes in the last two months. (Note: I saw someone with almost 2,000 pinned recipes on Pinterest. Person, you will never have time in your life to cook them all. One new recipe a day is effort enough. Stop pinning, start cooking.) Ironically, the first 20 recipes I tried were all KEEP. Sadly for my family the last 9 have all been CHUCK. I guess I was due for some nasty since everything started out so delicious. You know, the law of averages and whatnot.

Here’s documentation:

 

 

Trying new recipes is a lot like life. We make efforts to plan, purchase, execute and enjoy things that sound good. Sometimes you get cinnamon swirl brioche, sometimes you get fermented cornmeal. Sometimes you accidentally stumble upon green apple burgers! But we don’t quit cooking. We keep trying new recipes because we have hope for the future. We have hope that America’s Test Kitchen and Martha Stewart and Real Simple all have the answers for us. And when they don’t we make a mental note to NEVER DO THAT AGAIN.

For example:

LIFE RECIPE to CHUCK: Stay-at-home Friday Night Date with Greg

This recipe always fails because Greg a.k.a. Cardio King plays early morning basketball M, W and F at the crack of dawn. Friday he plays ball, eats, showers, commutes, works hard, goes to the temple at 4, commutes, eats the grab bag dinner I've made and then proceeds to sleep like a hibernating techno bear (a bear that sleeps curled up with his ipad). There is no point in trying to hang out with Greg at the house on Friday night.

LIFE RECIPE to KEEP: Friday Night Date with Greg Out On the Town

This recipe works wonders. If I physically move him to a public arena he stays awake. I know that if I want to see Greg once a week we have to actually go somewhere. If we double with another couple, the results are doubled. I get a fun, interactive Greg.

LIFE RECIPE to CHUCK: Happy Marriage from Sharing the Television

This recipe is terrible. I cannot be with Greg when he watches 3 hours of CNN, MSNBC and FOX NEWS. He cannot be with me when I watch any BBC Production longer than 30 minutes. This means we have to separate when we unwind. It’s okay. If Greta Van Susteren can live without me then Jonny Lee Miller can live without Greg.

LIFE RECIPE to KEEP: Communicate While Dog-Walking

A tasty one. We discuss things the best when we walk Lucy late at night. I could walk forever, Lucy can walk forever and Greg indulges me by walking forever. We can hash everything out and come home unified. Way more effective than me bringing things up as Greg is falling asleep in bed.

LIFE RECIPE to KEEP: Dad Helps Daughter With Math Homework

I follow this recipe with exactness. Always.

Just keep cooking. And don’t forget to kiss your fellow chef.

*Photo of our actual loaf of bread with its shiny egg wash crust. That loaf was so good that I wanted to hold it like a baby and rock it and sing to it.