Archive | September, 2017

11 Hobbies I Once Thought I Had (And Where I’m At With Them Now)

23 Sep

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1. Photography

I went through this whole phase where I would haul an SLR camera around with me on mundane activities as though I would then examine the high-resolution photos of…my pancakes? The Band Perry concert? I don’t know.

This interest came around the time I started blogging so maybe I thought this was a necessary part to making money selling my clothing and children? I truly don’t remember the thought process here.

Verdict: Donated camera to Goodwill. Was asked if it actually worked. Yes, sir. It does. And I almost took classes on it! And I have been asked to do multiple weddings! (That’s actually real and I’m actually really glad I did not).

2. Croquet

I stand by this hobby and I stand with a tall spine.

I actually do enjoy croquet. I just don’t have the sort of social circle at the moment that all meets up at a park for a rousing game of croquet on a Tuesday night. Currently my vintage croquet set sits in our one measly storage closet taking up way too much room and I refuse to life-changing magic it away. One day!

Verdict: Actually a hobby in another life of mine.

3. Person who goes to workout parks

I’m not sure where this came from, but I’ve always been convinced workout parks are my thing. I don’t like to exercise and I’ve never actually seen someone use a workout park, but those adult monkey bars seem so fascinating and kind of thrilling?

Verdict: Not a hobby, simply a soul love.

4. Snorkeling

I like snorkeling as much as the next person, meaning I go snorkeling when on vacation in tropical locales. Unfortunately, I thought this meant I needed to snorkel here in California (where there is very little snorkeling) and I purchased snorkeling gear. This involved a whole fight with the post office where someone else claimed my package. How many of us are pretending we are snorkelers here??

I’ve used this gear exactly twice. Once with Hilary at Point Dume. It was freezing and she kind of has a fear of sharks and we were definitely in the rocky-don’t-walk area of the ocean and we gave up.

Another time Rob and I took the snorkels to Santa Barbara. There was nothing to see.

Verdict: Still have the gear. Holding on to that post office grudge.

 5. Paddleboarding

Hilary and I went paddleboarding once in Marina Del Rey. It was a really fun afternoon and I only fell in once on the way home when I was exhausted from exercising. Afterwards I decided I would be Paddleboard Girl and bought a paddleboard.

It was a whole thing.

The nearest Costco to me was over a canyon and simply getting the 10 foot paddleboard in my car required several Good Samaritans and a lot of embarrassment. Then there was the drive through a canyon with seven feet of that thing threatening to fall out of the car at any moment.

After the emotional turmoil of getting the paddleboard home, it went into storage and I never saw it again. That thing is HUGE. And heavy. And the idea of strapping it onto my car and driving it anywhere was enough to make me stop idea-ing.

Verdict: I sold it in my last move for a huge loss despite the fact I had never used it.

6. Running

High school cross country HA.

7. Painting

Rob suggested this one when he heard I was writing this post and I thought that was rude. I have fully painted at least three times and I always bring a paint set to the beach with me just in case!

I was going to go to the beach for a daily painting of the sunrise for a time, some sort of Monet-style thing about light and the impermanent nature of life. I would then hang said watercolors around my room as the only decoration needed. This never happened.

Verdict: Not throwing it away. Maybe someday? Maybe next month? Daily yoga and then a sunrise watercolor painting sounds reasonable and likely.

8. Blue Apron

I’m not a cook and there was a lot of ginger which is why I can’t really get into kombucha and it time-consuming and expensive! And the portions are way too small for someone like me! Also do you know how many Jack in the Box tacos I could get for the price of one Blue Apron meal? Neither do I!

Verdict: Never again. Plus now there’s Rob.

9. Biking

I bought a bike before I moved to California because I was going to bike everywhere and then I moved to Malibu where biking anywhere is biking up a hill and eventually the facilities crew at my old apartment just threw the rusted thing out and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Verdict: Maybe someday?

10. Golden Milk aficionado

For a while there Golden Milk was all the rage and it seemed so cozy! Welcome over friend, have some golden milk!

I ended up buying bulk bags of turmeric and ginger (ginger again!) on Amazon, making the milk once, realizing I hated it, and then throwing out the bags.

Verdict: Nope.

11. Apple Cider Vinegar person

See Golden Milk aficionado except this time I couldn’t even down my first shot. HOW? WHY?

Life Is Just A Day At A Time

18 Sep

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Our first morning back in LA we woke up early, still on Bermuda time.

There was some reading, some watching of Bachelor in Paradise (for me).

Eventually we made it to our local bagel place for hash browns and bacon and eggs. Strawberry cream cheese and more Tapatio please.

Next was the library where we picked up our waiting books and then some. We stumbled on to a farmer’s market! On accident! We were not prepared!

Lemon basil, cherry tomatoes, squash, garlic.

Hands too full on the walk home.

There was more Bachelor in Paradise. A nap. Four dozen bran muffins to freeze.

A friend worried about getting engaged once asked me about commitment, knowing that I pore over decisions, that none come easily to me. She wanted to know how I felt being engaged.

Life is just a day at a time now as it was before, I said.

I’ve been obsessive about getting our apartment together.

I’ll be walking down the street listing off the things that need to get done. A mirror in the hallway, maybe? Four frames on that wall. No five!

It’s a weird turn of events, wanting my apartment to look perfect.

For over a decade, since leaving for college, I’ve lived in a variety of apartments, some that didn’t reflect me in any way. I never cared until now.

I think it goes back to an idea I have about the person I’m supposed to be in my future. In my future I keep my (quaint) (completely unique) (beach bungalow) home spotless. That quaint, completely unique beach bungalow I keep spotless (easily, flawlessly, while doing other things)? That home reflects me in every way. That home is beautiful, fun to be in, full of light and color and vintage lamps!

I am in my future now.

There’s no denying it. I’m turning 30 next month. I have real health insurance. I’ve made legal commitments to another human. I’m on the career path I’d like to keep climbing.

I’ve always been in my future, but it’s hitting me particularly hard right now.

And so I obsess.

The ironic thing about all of this, of course, is that the person I’m supposed to be in my future doesn’t obsess over unimportant things.

I keep trying to write. To get back into the game.

It’s so hard.

I don’t write about writing all that much, but I talk about it with friends all that much.

How writing is like running. How you have to keep lacing up those Asics and getting out the door even when you end up shuffling down the street with sweat pouring down your face, sure you’ll never improve.

You have to keep writing those sentences even when they’re stilted and blehing and why am I doing this.

You keep lacing up those sneakers.

You keep typing those awkward words.

 

Life is just a day at a time, now as it was before.

Morty The Mouse

2 Sep

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I don’t remember many things about my freshman year of college. It was a dark time, really all of college was a dark time for me.

I do remember, however, that we had a mouse in the ceiling.

I believe, but am not sure, that we named him Morty.

Morty lived above my dorm room. Whenever we heard him scampering around we would hit a broom above our heads. “Morty, keep moving!” “Morty, take a hike!”

I don’t remember much about my freshman year, but I do remember Morty.

If that was his name.

One of the reasons I wanted to have our wedding on the Cape was because I wanted to introduce my family and friends to this place that has meant so much to me. They say we remember experiences over things, and I wanted this experience.

I wanted these memories.

My second night on the Cape my little sister came running in my room. “THERE’S A MOUSE!” she screamed. “There’s a mouse. I saw its poop and then I heard it scamper and I closed my eyes so I didn’t actually see it but I know there’s a mouse!”

I had just started The Secret History by Donna Tartt and was very uninterested. “What would you like me to do?” I asked. “I can’t kill a mouse with my bare hands.”

By this time I was deep into Donna Tartt’s personal life, her famously private famously private personal life. Reading quotes about how privacy is the last luxury.

“What do you think about the line on social media? The line between sharing something extremely private and between that private thing helping other people?” I asked.

Jessica continued to talk about the mouse. About how she was hearing it above her head (but never when I was nearby), about her wild imaginings of how this mouse not only existed but was out to kill her.

When I had to leave to go to the bathroom I said I would collect her belongings from the possible mouse room. “I’ll also check out the poop,” I promised.

“Well…actually…” she began.

It turns out that “well actually” meant she knew deep in her heart that it wasn’t mouse poop on the stairs. That her hysteria over her mouse caused her to exaggerate a story I already wasn’t sold on.

“Like you’ve never exaggerated a stressful situation before!” she called out as I shone a flashlight on the carpet, looking for poop.

(There was none.)

(Of course.)

Later, after we had settled in to the same room where we would be enduring the rest of the night I said, “You know, I wanted to have my wedding here for the memories and I guess it’s already working. We’ll always have this mouse.”

She laughed and laughed.

I didn’t.

You see,

I don’t remember much about my freshman year of college but I do remember Morty the mouse.

If that was his name, anyway.