In other news...

Essica told me to be happy and post the following: she is going to see Shrek the Musical, and we have a new friend at the desk: a cut out of Simon's Cat.

That is all.

Sadness is...

It's fall, and that makes me happy. Why? Because it promises cooler weather, beautiful leaves, and (my favorite!) apple picking! I went apple picking two weeks ago with Frank, Sara, and Tim, and it was so much fun. $57 and 27 lbs. of apples later, we left, and Sara and I made a fantastic apple pie.

Life has been hectic: we're moving, I'm taking 20 hours of classes, we've got people coming in from out of town literally all fall, and babies... What, you ask? Well never you mind - there will be more on that when the time comes. For now, it's a thought passing between Frank and I.

To be honest, I've been kind of down lately. I just keep seeing everything that needs to get done, all of the major changes happening, and I get tired. Not to mention, I got some really traumatic/sad/depressing news a few weeks ago.

Over the summer, I had thought I was possibly pregnant. Turns out, I wasn't, or so I thought. After a few months, several doctor visits, and a lot of blood work, I found out that I had a miscarriage. At first I felt like I shouldn't be sad, because I really hadn't known until after the fact. But I was, and I cried a lot, felt down, thinking my body was broken. You know, I was talking to someone about this, wondering why I felt this way, and it struck me: a girl's entire identity is almost built around her ability to make babies. Think about it: from the time we're 11 or 12, we get out period, and we know that means we can have babies. When we're teenagers, we're lectured about responsibility and how being stupid can lead to having a baby. We see commercials EVERYWHERE, all about birth control or periods. In short, our lives are almost made to revolve around our reproductive health and the many different ways we can prevent pregnancy. I struggled with this for a long time, and I didn't tell anyone. I finally told Frank and my mom, and I've opened up to a few of my friends, and I feel so much better.

But I can't banish this thought from my mind. What if I am broken? What if I can't have a baby? What if...? My mom and Frank have both told me to stop thinking that way, and I'm trying. And I don't understand why I was so sad for losing a baby that I wasn't even sure existed at the time.

It's getting better though, it's getting a little better all the time.

In the mean time, I'll think happy thoughts, and listen to happy music. After all, I always know that the sun will come out tomorrow, and maybe it'll bring a little ray of hope with it. And if it doesn't, I'll just wait until patiently until the day that it does.

Outlines and finals and papers, oh my!

Before I start getting into the bad stuff, a piece of good news: I finished my bioethics final! One class down, four to go. Hopefully by Saturday afternoon I will be done with three classes, and I can really concentrate on the remaining two. AND I got the copy of the journal where my little "Of Note" news summaries were published. Pretty exciting and I get a publication credit on my resume. Yay!! Now, on to more "upsetting" things...

I met with my PhD advisor this morning to go over some things before she leaves (boo!!) for a fantastic new opportunity. And in the process, I received some rather unfortunate news: I have to find a way to squeeze in 3 more hours somewhere next fall. My options:

1. Try to take a class this summer while in Dallas at SMU and get it transferred to SLU Law and then I can drop a law class in the fall and take the PhD cluster course she's recommending.
2. Request permission to take an additional 3 hours in the fall, for a grand total of 20 hours in the fall.
3. Request permission to take an additional 3 hours next summer, for a total of 8 hours during the summer, drop one of my law classes in the fall, and take the cluster class.

At this moment in time, none of those options look to be even slightly preferable. Life is going to be interesting this next school year FOR SURE. On the plus side, I did get clearance to move back to Texas after I finish up coursework and my comps. So, something good did come from all of this.

I forgot my wakey wakey pills this morning, and I am dead beat tired. Hopefully this religious methods paper writing goes better, because currently I'm going back and forth between totally agreeing with Catholic Church and thinking that it's a totally backward organization run by a bunch of pig headed old white men. (Mother, if you read this, I promise I'm not planning on converting.)

I will say this though - I have become totally fascinated with the Jewish theology and culture. Their way of thinking and perceiving religion and healing is both fascinating and open minded. Where some religious traditions are really completely set against change (or at least approach it with painful conservatism) ::ahem::Catholics::ahem::, this is a culture and a religion open to change and open to the views of the practicing faithful. Novel concept really, and a model that I think holds great value.

Enough complaining. I'm going to go get some work done now. Maybe :)

I just saw a guy walk by hiking up his pants and buttoning them. Why are that young man's pants unbuttoned? Hanky panky in the library...

When the going gets tough...

The actual ending to that is "...the tough get going." But I have to tell you that I don't really feel like that's an appropriate sentiment. More like this: "When the going gets tough, the women take over." Well, my friends, the going has gotten tough, and this woman finally took over. I hope it all turns out for the best.

Everyone should go watch "Steel Magnolias". That is a poignant gender commentary and explains exactly how I'm feeling at this moment.

Gimme those hush puppies!

Are there some restaurants that just remind you of certain people? Like, whenever I see a Sweet Tomatoes or Souper! Salad!, I always think of Frank or my mom. Healthy, salads, fresh food, soup. But then I think of my dad... Long John Silver's, Lion's Choice, Wendy's, Ozzie's Sports Bar & Grill, the Gast Haus, the Edelweiss (that restaurant is a post in itself, I'll save this one for Father's Day).

When I was little, my dad used to take my on "dates" to Long John Silver's, the fried fish and hush puppy emporium. As I got older, my mom started refusing to go, but I would always tag along. Because I love hush puppies so much, my dad always gives me his hush puppies and a piece of shrimp. So now, inevitably, when I'm visiting my parents and my dad is off for the day, we usually end up going to LJS or Captain D's (just like LJS, but maybe without so much class, they also don't offer a variety of "grilled" items like LJS does).

Today I went to Captain D's, a little fried fish fast food restaurant. Walking in, I got this little feeling of comfort, because this is something I associate with one of my most special memories with my dad. Several years ago, when I was engaged and looking for my wedding dress, he took me on another one of our "dates" to go see the dress I had picked out and pay for it (although he still claims I didn't mention that the use of some plastic would be involved during the trip). We went to the shop, I tried the dress on, and he teared up, telling me how beautiful I was in the dress. We even took a couple of pictures together, and I still have them, and they are so very special to me. Afterwards, he offered to take me to lunch. And where did we go? Captain D's, of course.

When I went by myself today, it wasn't quite the same. There wasn't anyone to joke around with about the quality of the fried fish and they didn't have the bell by the front door for you to ring when you leave if you felt like you had a good experience (and let me assure you that my dad always whole-heartedly rings that bell every time he leaves). So, I was a little let down by the whole thing. But then, the manager came walking around asking everyone how their food was. This was a guy in his 20s who obviously takes his job as the manager of Captain D's very seriously. When he asked me, though, how everything was, I just smiled and said "Thank you" because it made me feel a little happier that someone was asking how I liked Captain D's. Just like my dad does when we go together.

I'm heading back to Fort Worth in a couple of weeks, and I know I'll make a trip to Captain D's or LJS with my favorite fried fish fanatic for a date.

Success, failure, and rock bottom (in the words of JK Rowling)

I saw this on a mental_floss article and I really liked it. Whether or not you agree with what J.K. Rowling did to support herself while writing Harry Potter (she lived on welfare in order to focus on her writing), this is a pretty great quote about success and failure. A lot of people forget these things, or never really stop to think about them. Maybe that's why so many of us are unhappy? Anyway, I like this :)

Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it. So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless. The fears that my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.

… So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.

Frank, the tea cup sleuth

Well, I'm proud to say that my law review comment has been turned in. Will it get published? Not a clue, but at least I did it! So, enough of that, I want to talk about something more fun :)

As many of you may know, I absolutely LOVE to plan parties. The more fabulous, fantastic and over the top, the better! I've got several in the works right now, but my favorite upcoming one has to be the Alice in Wonderland themed Mad Hatter Tea Party for my friend's bridal shower. I'm going to have it at the London Tea Room, and there will be crowns, top hats, scones and tea. Truly fantastic.

So, while trying to think of a party favor, I came across the idea for tea cup candles - you buy old tea cups and saucers, and make candles in the cups! Naturally, I began the hunt for old tea cups in kitschy patterns - really vintage stuff. I happened upon an estate sale a few weeks back and found something things that were perfect! I only bought the tea cups (not the accompanying china set), and was really amused that the bottom of some of the cups said "Made in Occupied Japan". Well, of course the first thing I did was call my mom to celebrate my fantastic deal. When I told her about the cups and what some of them had printed, she screamed into the phone, "BABY DOE, GO GET EVERYTHING ELSE IN THAT SET!" Turns out that little Occupied Japan stamp makes those pieces ten times more valuable. Grabbing my purse, I ran two blocks at a flat out sprint (and you should know that I detest running, I will only run for a pair of shoes or an excellent deal) and bought the rest of the china, many pieces of which had "Occupied Japan" on the bottom. In fact, for nine place settings, I paid less than half of what one place setting goes for.

So, my sweet sweet husband politely listened to me tell this thrilling tale of my estate sale bargain and even ooed and awed in all the right places when I told him of the old ladies I'd nearly knocked over and how I carried around nine place settings of china in this old house to insure that no one else picked it up. I think it's safe to say that he's politely amused at my antics. I've spent the past few weeks admiring my new china pieces and serving dishes. Frank always makes sure to agree with me and tell me how lovely they are.

I continued the tea cup adventure last weekend with him, and we ended up at Goodwill (after much frustration with a bunch of old broads with their heads stuck so far up their fleshy asses that I'm pretty sure they'll never see the light of day again). After finding some tea cups and saucers that would be perfect, we went to get in line, when a small white fabric box caught Frank's eye. I watched as he reached over and lifted the lid and his hand froze. He quickly looked up to see if anyone was upset by the fact that he was messing with the box. When he ascertained that no one was, he put the lid back and leaned protectively over the box. I asked him what was going on, and he whispered, "It's that china pattern you love. Twelve cups. I'm trying to make sure no one takes it."

Well, I was so excited at that point that I was itching to get my hands on them and see if they had that magical little stamp I was so excited about. Frank continued to protect them from the greedy hands of others (he was determined that my greedy hands would be the only ones who possessed those cups).

Needless to say, I got the cups, and one of them had "Occupied Japan" on them. But I never would have found them if it hadn't been for my precious husband and his patience as I went on my grand tea cup adventure. It's moments like that where he jumps into action at the sight of something that I want to bad that my heart melts. Even if we couldn't have afforded those cups or none of them had that little stamp on it, I would never have forgotten how happy he was that he'd found something so important to me.

A new year, the same old me

So, it's fair to say that I'm pretty bad about blogging. I just haven't gotten into the habit of it, I guess. But maybe I'll try a little harder, get a little better, and see what happens.

Sometimes we have to separate ourselves from the people that we care about, not because they have done anything wrong, but because we need the time. I'm at that point right now, and I do not like it. I'm always worried that I'm hurting someone's feelings, and maybe I am, but it's not my intention.

To all my friends: know that I love you and care about you and I would do just about anything you ever asked of me, no matter the cost. Right now, I've got to take a step back and take care of me, because I'm literally worn out and don't have much left to give. But rest assured, soon I'll be back and better than ever and all myself again. I'd rather you had that girl than the grumpy old fart sitting here typing right now. You all are amazing, and I'm lucky to know such wonderful people.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night - take these broken wings and learn to fly.
All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night - take these sunken eyes and learn to see.
All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free.
Blackbird fly, into the light of the dark black night.