So I titled this as “Things I would Like to Do” because I’m really not into this Bucket List or Life List or Mighty List or whatever such branded madness is going on these days, and I don’t really have goals like “Go skydiving!” (NEVER) or “backpack through Turkey!” (NO DESIRE WHATSOEVER.) But that being said, I have a few concrete things that I would like to accomplish within the next year or so. Since I just turned 32, it makes sense to put a year on here, for planning purposes, but should it not happen, nothing’s going to implode or explode and the world will keep on turning and it really won’t matter at all.
1. attend a photo workshop (I’m looking into the Maine Photo Workshops right now and I kind of really, really want to go)
2. paint the girls’ bedroom and finish making their curtains
3. finish the NYC marathon (on schedule! November 7!)
4. brand my photography website: step one already taken… already talked to the amazing designer I want to hire. (Now I just need to find a money tree or something like that.)
5. take a vacation with my husband without our children (it’s very unlikely that this will happen but I’m putting it on here anyway, dammit)
6. buy a new couch
There! Six. Six very tangible, accomplish-able goals! I think they’ll happen. But if they don’t? Meh. Just keep ’em on the list.
So, something that also happened over my birthday weekend? BlogHer. I was not there, you see, not because I was dealing with various cracked limbs and the resulting situations that ensued, but because I just didn’t go. The thought was appealing… NYC is one of my very favorite cities on the planet and I would have loved to have been there for my birthday. But once I started marathon training and realized that I would be there in early November, it just didn’t make sense (financially or otherwise) to go. HOWEVER. I was there in spirit! Sort of!
The photo above is one that I submitted to the Kirtsy/BlogHer Voices of the Year 2010 Gala that took place the Friday night of BlogHer weekend. I was sent a written piece to illustrate, the gist of which was “it’s about a stance towards knowledge and doing” by the very cool and interesting badgerbag. I took about forty billion photos, trying to get the exact feeling I wanted, but this one? Was the VERY LAST photo I took over a period of two weeks. Seriously. I guess sometimes it doesn’t come easy, does it?
I’m really happy to have participated in the event… Jennie took a picture of it on display and sent it to me via twitter, which made me ridiculously happy. It was the one thing that could have cheered me up as we were at home the night of Adele’s accident, rigging up a weird crib-sling-sleeping arrangement for her. That picture made my night and thank you, Jennie, for redeeming my birthday.
This is, I hope, the first of many times I get to put my photos out there. And while I wish I could have seen it in person, it’s enough for me to know that I made the leap and said “Can I be a part of this?” And it’s even better to know that someone reached out to me and said “Absolutely.” Thanks, ladies of Kirtsy. It was a pleasure.
WELL. Usually I would just say “hey! haven’t written! nothing to see here!” but GOOD LORD. These past two weeks have been nothing short of insane. First (and of least importance, really) I turned 32. 32, I feel, is a rather anticlimactic age. I sort of think that 33 and 34 will be much the same, and then 35 will be a sort of wallop-in-the-face-my-god-I’m-THIRTYFIVE sort of situation. In any case, I didn’t have huge expectations for my birthday, but I was looking forward to a day of nothing in particular, and then a dinner out with my girlfriends. Celebratory, yet under the radar. And you know how it was spent instead?
AT THE EMERGENCY ROOM. Which was, needless to say, the opposite of where I had hoped to spend my birthday.
Adele jumped out of her crib and broke her leg. That’s right. Jumped. Or, flung one leg over, got it stuck, and then fell out, breaking both the bones in her right shin on the way down. I’ll spare you a description of the visual, but let’s just say it was horrible. And bendy in a way no leg should ever bend. I had thought she was asleep, as is customary at naptime… she had been put in her crib about a half hour before, and was completely quiet. So I assumed (and you know what happens when we assume, kids) that she was asleep. The thump and wail combo that brought me skidding in to the girls’ room proved otherwise, obviously. I took her to the children’s hospital, which is thankfully about five minutes from our house, and Casey met us there. Adele was SUCH a trooper; she cried for awhile but then they splinted her (tiny) leg and then put the bones back in place and she was good to go. This is clearly a highly simplified version of that day, but believe me, you don’t want to hear about anesthesia and bone placement and a child denied food or drink for something like 8 hours. The simplified version is that she’s going to be fine, and that her leg should heal just fine, and that I’m now only going to live until I’m 85 instead of 95 because the whole ordeal seriously took ten years off my life. The End.
ps- she looks cute in her cast.
When I first moved to Austin for college in 1996 (hook ’em!), I didn’t know that much about Texas. It was large. It was hot. Austin was in the middle. These were the important points, yes? Well, I made friends with three native Texans who became my roommates my sophomore year, and I learned a lot about Texas from them… specifically, the Texas Teenage Girl Cowboy Fantasy. This was the era of the Dixie Chicks, if you’ll remember. “Cowboy Take Me Away” was practically on autoplay in everyone’s car at one point during college, and it was explained to me that many Texas girls have the cowboy fantasy described in the song… you know, he’ll sweep you off your feet and you’ll ride into the sunset together on his horse and then live out your days on a ranch in the middle of Texas (but not near George W.’s) and all is happily ever after. I’m not saying this is true of ALL Texan ladies, but I know at least three who can back me up. After all this was explained to me, I still didn’t get it. I hadn’t though much about cowboys growing up; cowboys were, uh, the ones in charge of cows. And they wore boots! And spurs! There. See? I know about cowboys.
But on Sunday night, Casey and I started watching Lonesome Dove. And people? I GET THE COWBOY THING NOW. I specifically get the “Robert Duvall as a cowboy thing” now. Is there a word for being the opposite of a cougar? For having a huge crush on someone old enough to be your grandfather? Because I do believe that word applies to me now. I mean, I’m specifically in love with Gus McCrae, Duvall’s character in Lonesome Dove, and I can totally understand why Diane Lane winds up falling for him without even meaning to (sorry for the spoiler there) but WOW. He’s witty and sarcastic and loyal and weather-beaten and, my GOSH, he rides through the deserts of Texas to save a whore from certain death at the hands of Indians. That gets a plus in my book. Now I’m reading the book too and I think I love him even more.
And since he’s, you know, imaginary? My husband doesn’t even mind.