Beekeeper

I not-so-secretely want to do this.

photo from awelltraveledwoman

Elliot

"April is the cruelest month," he said, but I wonder what T.S. Eliot was doing in January and February. After the presents have been opened, the lights put away, and the champaine drained, the only thing left to do is look down at the scale and discover how many pants sizes you've gone up.  And then realize how much work its going to take to get them to go back down.  The end of the holidays tends to put me in funk; I go through a good period of mourning because it doesn't seem like there is anything to look forward to for awhile. Then I emerge with some rather ambitious tasks and expectations.  

Sometimes I mistakenly sit down and think about all the things I have and have not accomplished in my 27 years.  I inevetably think about it when one year ends and another begins, for what better time to contemplate life's platter than when you've been strung out on sugar and alcohol for the better part of a week? Exactly.  But I didn't make any new year resolutions this time around; they're always broad and my life should be broad anyway. My life should be a resolution.  I'm always looking for some big oppportunity or decision to make - and I hate making big decisions!  But the thrill is what gets me.  Sometimes, I have realized, contentment should be a thrill.  

Merry Days

I love the realization that I'm a pretty chill person.  And I love the realization that other people think I'm a pretty chill person, and that they value my chillness.  Sometimes I am led to believe that I'm just plain passive, but I've learned that being mild tempered and in a state of peace can help others follow your lead.  And some certainly find it skin crawling.

But I try anyway and thankfully, it usually works.  So with a nice parting gift from 1st grade I began my eleven days of intended merriment.  

I've gotten much more than I expected, and really, I shouldn't be expecting anything.  People  have a tendency to surprise and bless me in fantastic ways. There is a little goodness left afterall.

Swag

I think I've become increasingly aware of other peoples'.....proximity.  Its as if they're not even there. When I walk through stores I nearly walk through people; not really excusing myself in the least.  I think, perhaps, it may have something to do with the nearly unbelievable lack of personal space I endured while living in Asia.  No one gave way to anyone else.  There were so many people every where that a "pardon me" became irrelavant - there was no space to give. 
So here I am doing the same, figuring everyone needs to get somewhere.  Especially now that the stores are buzzing with the holiday traffic, I just keep going maneuvering around, between, behind, over, and never think of it until someone gives me the look.  That look that says, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"  And that's just it, I wasn't thinking.  Its not like I see them and just decide to ignore them. I have no qualms about it; like I said, you go where you need to be and I'll go where I need to be.  
The other week someone was holding the door open to either go through it themself or let the person next to them through it, and I entered instead.  It was a bit embarassing after it was pointed out to me. But hey, who can blame either one of us?  Everyone has to have a moment of social inferiority.  

thanks

'Tis the season, officially.  You know one of the things I like most about the season? 'Tis is a completely appropriate expression.  That and Peppermint Mocha coffee creamer. Sure, there are other great things too.  Namely, the ability to sleep in with no rush to get anywhere.  That's pretty great too.  It's not that I'm super busy, but my days seem to slip away from once work, the gym, and even coming home. 

But throw in some sleep, some booze, and some pie and I'm rejuvenated.  I wish I had something like this going on, but it turned out more like this.

Not too shabby at all. The only thing missing, really, was Steph. She's contributed to my pie days for the past few years, but now...now our lives are so very different. Not one over the other, just different.  And I'm okay with that; not all the time, no, but this was bound to happen.

But she typically reads the reciepe; I don't.  I must of looked at a piece of paper 4 times total and still got an amazing result. 3 amazing results actually.  With a couple glasses of wine and a huge mess to clean up I was the most relaxed I've been in quite awhile.  Maybe I should bake everyday. Cheers.  

There's No Room For You on My Ass

Dog Days

Waking up dehydrated on a Saturday can only mean your Friday night consisted of one thing. Well, it could've consisted of many things, but it definnitly consisted of a particular thing. 
First grade had a helluva day, and it only seemed fitting for the adults to end it with adult beverages.  As for the kids, well I don't know what they're expected to end it with.

But I think I've hit my breaking point. Whatever that looks like. 
The side effets are really what I'm going off of - sleep deprivation, irritability, anti-socialization. 

Too much has gone on far too long. Of course my father thought he could fix it, or that he knew what I could do to fix it, and all I really wanted was someone to listen. Being able to sit and talk to someone who is going through it with me, however painful it is, subsided the sting for bit. JB has a good ear for it. I'm pretty sure, no I'm sure, she's at her breaking point too.  I think we're just waiting, knowing one of else will spill out once we hit the next corner.


photos from thebeautifulmindofvictoria