Savor or Spree

This morning my little compartmentalized worlds collided for a brief moment. Typically, I have one of three reactions when this happens. All of them could be summed up with a phrase my dad uses often, "Well, I'll be darned."

One reaction, is "huh," as in, "Huh, my third cousin knows someone I went to high school with." It's when "Well, I'll be darned" means, "That stands to reason, but I never would have considered the possibility." The second reaction is "eeew," as in "Eeew, my third cousin is dating someone I had a crush on in high school." It's when "Well, I'll be darned" weird means, "I didn't really want to consider that possibility." The third reaction is my favorite. It's when "Well, I'll be darned" is punctuated with an exclamation point. "Well, I'll be darned!" It's a rare moment of kismet.This morning I had that "Well, I'll be darned" exclamation point - kind of moment.

Last night, I noticed a book Tim had been reading about Nikola Tesla sitting on top on the bookshelf. He hadn't read it for a long time because he didn't want to finish it. He didn't want it to end. I have always been the opposite. I race through the end, no matter what it is. As a preteen, I hid a flashlight under my pillow so I could finish the book I was reading. I clean my plate to the point that I don't even need to rinse it before I put it in the dishwasher. I binge-watch television. I was thinking about that difference between us last night and also how--even though I like to get to the end of the story, season and sleeve of Thin Mints--I have been more apt to savor things as I get older. Or maybe it isn't that I'm older, it's just that I'm choosing things that are worth savoring more often. For instance, as much as I was loving reading One More Thing by B.J. Novak, I couldn't rush through it. It is just too good. Lately the only books I've read in less than 48 hours are ones that I didn't enjoy very much.

This morning, after I was in my car, but before I pulled out of the driveway, out of reach of our wifi, I made sure that the latest "Happier with Gretchen Rubin" podcast had downloaded. I got about 15 minutes into my 50 minute commute when Gretchen and her sister Elizabeth Craft started into a segment they refer to as "Know Yourself Better." The topic they were discussing? "Do you prefer to savor or spree?" I thought, "Well, I'll be darned! I was thinking about this last night."

It was one of those unimportant, inconsequential things that brightened my day.

Thirty-Seven

I turned 37 this month and right around the big day, I made a list of 37 things that made 36 great and that I hope for more of in the coming year. In no particular order...

1. Reading: Whether it's an entire book in a day or a lazy chapter in a comfy spot or finding a surprisingly charming essay where you least expected it, like Christopher Kimball's editorials in Cook's Illustrated magazine.

2. Scenic overlooks and rearview mirror sunsets on my commute home.

3. My step-daughter's verbalized internal monologues, most of the time.

4. The former hamburger drive-thru joint turned locally-owned tiny coffee shop opened by a couple who cashed out their 401k to make their dream come true. It's one of the only charming things on our otherwise charmless main drag of crumbling mid-century strip malls of the suburbs.

5. Lazy mornings and the quiet of my neighborhood on weekend mornings when no buses, trash trucks, or sirens disturb the peace.

6. Brits and Au Marche in downtown Lawrence and every Ten Thousand Villages store everywhere (and other places like these).

7. Hobbits with their meal plans and hobbit holes.

8. A couple of cottages in our neighborhood, also bungalows with deep front porches, dormer windows and porch swings.

9. Summer thunderstorms and winter snows.

10. Crocuses and "ditch lilies" (and the wonderful people who I first heard say ditch lilies when referring to day lilies).

11. Just the right amount of caffeine and just the right amount of alcohol.

12. David Suchet as Hercule Poirot.

13. Herbal tea, sun tea and sweet tea.

14. Soup and hot dishes in all their wondrous variety.

15. Breakfasts: whether it's scones and earl gray or biscuits and gravy with chow chow.

16. Stuff my mom makes: rows of canned tomato juice, salsa, marinara sauce and green beans, a grapevine wreath with silk flowers, my Christmas and Easter dresses as a little girl, knitted dishcloths and crochet scrubbies.

17. My dad's stories of childhood hijinx.

18. My husband's stories about things like not knowing that pickles were cucumbers and tasting soy candles because they smelled good and you can eat soy.

19. The way one of my childhood friend's eyes have always shined when she's stretching the truth for the sake of a good story.

20. The family farm, which is more sinkholes than farmland.

21. Outside chores: stacking wood, pulling weeds, mowing the grass, burying half-decomposed compost, raking leaves, picking up sticks, etc.

22. Caves

23. Town squares.

24. Nature.

25. Using a spoon or whisk instead of the mixes, using a rake instead of the leaf blower, walking.

26. Small things in jars: beads, marbles, dried beans.

27. Memories and stories of my grandparents: a tidbit that my grandmother referred to the WPA as "we piddle along," my grandpa's cane and the story about the time he spit his false teeth out of the window of his car.

28. Convertible sofas folded out just because you want a space to dogpile while watching tv in your pajamas.

29. Christmas and making cozy during cold weather.

30. Cocoon-like spaces: hammocks, tiny houses, closets, tents, appliance boxes, blanket forts.

31. NPR radio shows.

32. Anything arranged by color to make a rainbow: a closet full of clothes, shelves of books, skittles, skeins of yarn, paint chip displays.

33. Fixing things and recycling what is unfixable and wearing my super awesome patchy pants to run errands.

34. Old jeans that are one size too big, layered t-shirts, grandpa cardigans.

35. Big bowls full of fruit and pillar candles and flowers and candy dishes.

36. Amy Poehler and Tina Fey.

37. Public transportation.

Full On Monet

I am a full on Monet.

I came to this realization while getting ready for Christmas with my in-laws. As I applied my usual layers of makeup, I took two steps away from the bathroom mirror and appraised myself in it without the aid of my astigmatism-correcting glasses. I looked pretty good. It's not until I moved closer to the mirror that the big old mess comes into focus: clogged pores, flaky skin, chin hairs, unplucked eyebrows and the other usual aging woes.

I had just enjoyed my last lazy morning of holiday vacation; a beautiful morning of tea and pumpkin oatmeal, Anne Lamott, and my sleeping husband and step-child, all half-lit by Christmas tree lights and the morning sun sparkling off a fresh skim of icy snow. Then everyone else in the house woke up and things came into focus; my step-daughter's irritating indecision and low-level bickering with my husband that escalated into squabbling and hurt feelings. A big old mess.

I suspect there are lots of people like me. People who are okay from far away but seem more like a big old mess the closer you get. We feel much more comfortable keeping people at arm's length and being slightly out of focus if it means we seem okay. It is rare to find someone who allows their big old messes to come so sharply into focus. It makes sense, doesn't it? We all want to reflect the beautiful impression of ourselves that we sometimes glimpse in the golden morning light.

I am lucky to live in a city with a great art museum. It has full on Monets and other Impressionist works, too. I notice that lots of people like to bask in the perfectly lit, parqueted floor Impressionist room. We all take two steps back and change our focus to catch the beautiful idea of the thing that inspired the artist to pick up his brush and make a big old mess.

I've also noticed that fewer people seem to linger in the concrete-floored modernist expansion to the neoclassical museum, especially in front of this painting. Heineken by Idelle Weber is a beautifully executed sharply focused painting of a big old mess. The thing that inspired this painting is a wreck. It's irritatingly, squabbly, hurt feelings-y messy. It's discarded and worthless. It's trash. But thanks to the artist's keen eye and steady hand, she elevated this big old mess into something valuable--treasured, even. Every time we visit this museum, we are drawn to this painting. I appreciate it because it is a big old mess rendered so sharply in focus that it becomes beautiful.

What if we all could share our messes just as they are? Isn't there beauty in that? At times, I get inspired glimpses of my beautiful mess: artfully arranged bed head, mascara smudges so perfect they look like they were applied by a make-up artist for a mid-1990s heroine chic fashion shoot, bruises that look like Monet's version of a stormy sky at night.

It's easier to find beauty in our exterior messes than in our internal ones. But I'm slowly learning to claim those messes, too, and render them in ever-sharpening focus. While I don't necessarily feel more beautiful when I say things like "I don't know what that means," or "that hurts my feelings," or "I'm so frustrated and overwhelmed I don't know what to do," I always feel better after I claim the mess. When I do, I inevitably learn something about myself, my loved ones, or the world around me. And that is a beautiful thing, no matter from how far away or up close you look at it.

My Legit Emails Sometimes Devolve into Something Less-Than Legit

I have a couple of awesome friends who indulge me in some of the most random email exchanges. Here is an email exchange from yesterday. It’s just a sample of all the awesome fun you could be part of if we were friends and you emailed me at work.

From: Me

Sent: Thursday, September 04, 2014 9:47 AM

Hi lady!

Glad you survived the coke bottle incident. Or at least [someone] at [someplace] said it was a well-wrapped coke bottle.

[This bit is redacted because it was a boring albeit legit business question.]

Thanks

From: This could be you!

Sent: Thursday, September 04, 2014 10:36 AM

[This bit is also redacted because it is the answer to boring albeit legit business question.]

I think that my favorite part of the whole thing was that they blocked the street off, and brought in the bomb squad, but didn't think that it was necessary to let us know what was going on, or to clear the building. It was hilarious to watch though. At one point the guy was standing next to the bomb robot, but ducked behind the tree. Hell, I could do that.

From: Me

Sent: Thursday, September 04, 2014 10:49 AM

If I were the bomb squad boss, I would just make sure that me and everyone else was a safe distance away, detonate the bomb, and slowly stroll away from the fiery explosion. You can be on my bomb squad and we will take turns video-ing each other strolling away. I'm guessing we'd be fired after the second explosion, but at least we'd have two good shots of us strolling away from an explosion for our buddy-action movie. (We will make a low-budget buddy-action movie in this alternate reality, also.)

From: This could be you!

Sent: Thursday, September 04, 2014 10:52 AM

Threat Level Midnight? Only if it's slow-mo and Back in Black is playing. That would be so awesome. But yeah I think that we wouldn't last that long. But can you imagine our photo stream on facebook? So worth it.

From: Me

Sent: Thursday, September 04, 2014 11:01 AM

So worth it!

I think we should call our buddy-action movie "Super-Duper: No You Won't Know What You Get"

You know, I don't think we'd have the budget for AC/DC. My husband's friend's brother has a metal band, I think. They could do a metal cover of your daughter's Super Duper song. It'll be the Back in Black for a new generation.

The sequel should be Super Duper II: There's Throw Up in My Pull-up ($$$ for product placement!) The third is called Super Duper III: And You Never Diiiiie

From: This could be you!

Sent: Thursday, September 04, 2014 11:09 AM

Holy cow, I'd almost forgotten about the Super-Duper song. Maybe we can get a couple spiderman and superman costumes, so we can have two spidermans, and two supermans. Ahhh the throw up in my pull up. Now it's just called "The Diarrhea." As in I have The Diarrhea. Hey, that's a good name for a punk band.

Cult of Autumn

Happy Labor Day! It’s the time of year that stay-at-home moms, “lifestyle” bloggers, sorority girls, self-professed taste-makers and their suburban acolytes, adolescent girls, Pinterest mavens and stylish gays everywhere ramp up their lurid cultish practices. We’ll call them Virbrascorpittariologists—followers of the Cult of Autumn. I had nearly forgotten about the Cult of Autumn until a trip to a craft store yesterday revealed a bevy of crazed suburban ladies filling their carts with sprays of silk leaves in autumnal colors, tiny hay bales, and pumpkins, pumpkins, pumpkins.

Consider this a public service announcement. The Cult of Autumn is pervasive and insidious. No one is safe from the Virbrascorpittariologists. Every fall, they try to lure normal people into conversions that swell their apple-cider-scented ranks. It’s a slippery slope. First, you convince yourself that there isn’t any harm in a pumpkin latte and the next thing you know, you’re suiting up in the cult-approved uniform of skinny jeans, boots, and sweaters, layered with scarves and jackets. Here are some tips to spot a Virbrascorpittariologists and steer clear of the vortex. It will suck you in if you get too close.

The Importance of Labor Day: What’s that? It’s still hot as f*** after Labor Day making early September an inappropriate time to consider steaming mugs of hot apple cider cocktails? Congratulations, you’re still a normal person. Virbrascorpittariologists have confused Labor Day with the autumnal equinox. They have rejected the relationship of the earth to the sun—which dictates our seasons—as a way to dictate the seasons. Instead they celebrate Labor Day as the beginning of Autumn. Labor Day, in case you’ve started to be brainwashed by the Virbrascorpittariologists is a day that the Department of Labor defines as “a creation of the labor movement… dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers.”

“Workers, schmirkers,” Virbrascorpittariologists proclaim! “It’s time to buy red, orange, brown and gold cheap junk that was made in southeast Asia by exploited workers from lowly retail employees forced to work on a day which I have off! Who am I kidding, I probably have every day off! But today my husband is home so I can get him to wire these glittery silk leaves up in our entryway. Then we can celebrate with pumpkintinis! Hooray for Labor Day!”

The High Holy Days: While Labor Day is important in that it marks the beginning of Autumn for a Virbrascorpittariologist, it is not a High Holy Day. That distinction is reserved for Halloween and Thanksgiving. Virbrascorpittariologists celebrate all they hold dear on these two days: costuming, food presentation, Pinterest-inspired overly complicated party favors, seasonally appropriate throw pillows and of course…

Pumpkins, Pumpkins, Pumpkins: Here is an analogy that sort-of works but not quite—Pumpkins: Virbrascorpittariologists :: Crucifixes : Catholics. See, it doesn’t quite work because, luckily for Virbrascorpittariologists, pumpkins are also edible, turning this analogy into something like—Pumpkins : Virbrascorpittariologists :: Crusifixes and the Body and Blood of Christ : Catholics. That’s a little clumsy, but I think you get my point. If you were Catholic and the Pope came to your house, you would make sure to have a crucifix hanging on the wall. If you are Virbrascorpittariologists and Martha Stewart came to your house anytime after Labor Day but before Black Friday, you would make sure to have at least one pumpkin (but most likely multiple pumpkins carefully arranged in an artful vignette) on display in your home. Likewise, just at Catholics are supposed to regularly partake in Holy Communion; Virbrascorpittariologists must partake of pumpkin lattes, pumpkin beer and pumpkintinis and swirl pumpkin into their oatmeal, slurp their pumpkin soup, and nibble pumpkin pastries as often as they photograph their food for social media. So beware, that “friend” filling up your Facebook feed with pictures of her pumpkin food: that is as sure a sign of a Virbrascorpittariologists as 666 is a sign of the devil.

Other Décor Choice: While pumpkins are at the heart of Autumnal décor, let’s not forget that Virbrascorpittariologist does not live on pumpkin décor alone. In order to create a proper, Pinterest-worthy Autumn vignette for every room in your home, other décor must be incorporated. Appropriate choices include: fake leaves, oranges, things with acorns on them, golds, other gourds, reds, the words “give thanks”, browns, and hay bales and corn stalks. If you see any of these items in combination outside a person’s house, give that person, and their house, a wide berth.

White as a Fashion Choice: A person wearing white after Labor Day used to be a sure sign that said person was clear of Autumnal cultish influence. This rule no longer applies! Sometime in the early- to mid-aughts, Virbrascorpittariologists became aware that avoiding this former sartorial sin marked them as proselytizing Autumnal loonies. The gradual reversal of opinion on white after Labor Day from “no way” to “hooray” among Virbrascorpittariologists makes it impossible to discern a Virbrascorpittariologist from a summer-loving Gemicanleogogician who is refusing to retreat into hibernation. (Gemicanleogo is an equally terrifying cult whose influence waxes following Memorial Day and wanes in the face of the meteoric rise of the Virbrascorpittariologists that occurs annually post-Labor Day. Sometimes, there is cross-over, as any given person can enjoy membership in both cults.)

Other Sartorial Signs: Oversized sweaters and cardigans, skinny jeans and leggings, boots of all shapes and colors, scarves, buttery leather handbags in brown or other colors approved for this autumn by InStyle magazine, plaid shirts layered under puffy vests, and coats when the weather doesn’t warrant a coat. While any of these items does not guarantee the person in question is a Virbrascorpittariologists, proceed cautiously.

Places Where Virbrascorpittariologists Reside: In order to resist the influence of the Virbrascorpittariologists, avoid the following between Labor Day and Black Friday: Social Media, Starbucks, Lifestyle Television Shows, Morning News Programs (Local and National), Craft Supply Stores, Home Décor Stores, Box Stores of All Types, Grocery Store End-caps, Probably Your Mom’s House, Garage Sales, Candle Stores, Any Store that Sells Clothes, Greeting Card Stores, Suburban Schools, Anywhere that Adults Organize Children’s Activities, Shoe Stores, Your Own Storage Boxes, Lifestyle Magazines, Probably Your Friends, Your Husband if He Is Anything Like Mine, Farmers’ Markets, Bakeries… Actually, it might be a good idea to stay safely inside your home until the day after Thanksgiving. But beware of well-wishers who think you’ve taken ill and visit your house. They will probably come bearing pumpkin scones to help you feel better.