1. Decide 5 minutes ago you're going to finally clean out and organize your closet.
2. Pull everything out of the closet and place it into your bedroom and onto your bed.
3. Realize the baby has woken up 20 minutes ahead of schedule.
4. Re-enter the bedroom for the first time and realized, startled, that you may have bitten off more than you could chew.
5. Leave to pick The Big One up from school.
6. Come home only long enough to get the Big One out of his uniform, change a poopie diaper for the Little One, grab a card and some cash off the counter, and head out the door for a birthday party.
7. Come home 3 hours later and re-enter the bedroom for the second time, exhausted, certain that you have bitten off more than you could chew.
8. Convince Big Daddy that it will only take 15 minutes to clean.
9. Spend the next 2 hours arguing about how the closet should be reorganized.
10. Spend the next hour trying on clothes for fun because when you've lost a lot of weight it's fun to go back and remember exactly how fat you were.
10.5 Hang all your clothes back up in RO* G BIV order. Sigh at the perverse pleasure you get from something so stupid. *Realize you own nothing yellow.
11. Collapse into bed, having admitted defeat... promising to wake up and get it taken care of first thing.
12. Sleep in.
13. Finally wake up and realize that what we truly need is a plan.
14. Spend the next 2 hours not coming up with a plan and drawing a to-scale blueprint of the closet on graph paper.
15. Get in the car and go to Lowe's and Home Depot. Stare at the closet organization aisle. Leave empty handed except for a very glossy brochure that, surprisingly, lacks any real content.
16. Come home and finally figure out what we want to do in the closet only to realize we lack any of the equipment to make it happen.
17. Go back to Lowe's and Home Depot.
18. Drive back home with a couple of vertical supports for our new hanging system that we're going to implement full well knowing we have support brackets in the house somewhere. We just don't know where.
20. Forget to put a #19.
21. Come home and realize it's really too late to start on a project now.
22. Clean out some more debris left over in the master bedroom. Cry because there's still a lot to do. You also realize there's a mountain of laundry you haven't thought about doing.
23. Realize the children will probably want dinner. Swear under your breath. Start some pizza dough rising.
24. Swear some more while you're making the rest of the pizza.
25. Eat dinner.
26. Clean up after dinner.
27. Vow (again) that next time you do a project it's going to be done differently.
28. Give it all up and write a blog post.
And there you have it folks, how not to organize your closet in 28 easy steps.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Good Southern Food
I'll be honest. Before moving to the South, the only thing I knew about pimentos was that it was the joke part of the "loaf" and that whatever the heck it was, I wasn't touching it with a 10-foot pole.
Then I moved to Georgia. I'd heard talk about the mysterious pimento. I learned that they were red. And oh! So *that's* what that stuff is inside the green olive!!! That's where our relationship ended. I never really felt the need to deepen my relationship with the pimento. Until this past Christmas.
My dear, sweet, adorable neighbor brought me over some homemade pimento cheese as a little Christmas gift. I smiled brightly and gave her a hug... so touched by the fact that she'd thought of us at Christmastime. Of course, being the good Belle that I am now, I had her jar of homemade blueberry jam complete with Christmas fabric topper all ready to go! She had suggested using it to make a grilled cheese sandwich. I have to admit, that piqued my interest. If loving a grilled cheese sandwich is wrong, well then I don't want to be right.
I walked back into the house and told Big Daddy "Ashely gave us some pimento cheese. What is it?" You see, he's southern. He knows these things. I opened the lid... I eyed it curiously. It looked like a big orange blob with red polka dots. I sniffed it cautiously. Smells like cheese, I thought. I might even have poked at with a cheese spreader a time or two. I knew I had to try it so I could at least tell Ashely, "Thank you so much for the pimento cheese. It was the best pimento cheese I've ever eaten." You see, a good Belle finds a way to be polite without lying. It would have to be the best since I'd never had it before. You like that? I'm slick that way...
Anyway, we broke out the crackers and spread it on. Oh. My. Word. Good stuff!!! I think it lasted 2-3 days between the crackers and the grilled pimento cheese sammiches. Well, I've been dreaming about it since Christmas and meaning to try to make some on my own. Monday was the day.
I called Ashley and asked for the recipe. She laughed at me. Really, she laughed. Y'all. It's cheese, mayo, pimentos, and hot sauce. There were no measurements to give. That's enough to set this anal retentive, uptight Yankee into a tailspin. I wanted the cheese. My monthly friend is heading up the driveway this week, and I NEEDED the cheese. I know you girls get it.
For all you non-southern, uptight folks reading this... this is about what I came up with:
About 6 oz sharp cheddar cheese
1 small jar pimentos, drained.
1/3 c. mayo (Dukes, please)
Hot sauce to taste.
I was a little hesitant with the hot sauce since I don't really like things too spicy and I thought it might get hotter as it sat. And it did. I added what I thought was quite a bit, and it was enough to give it just a little kick but not enough to linger. Feel free to add more.
Shred the cheese, add the mayo and stir. Add the drained pimento and stir some more. Add the hot sauce. Stir. Repeat until desired intensity. I let it sit for a little bit, and I think it helped meld the flavors. It's also gotten better over the past few days.
Spread on crackers and enjoy with some sweet tea (that "recipe" coming up soon too, y'all. I think I mastered that southern staple as well!). I'll make Big Daddy a sandwich this weekend and update this post.
Southern food mastered:
Peach Cobbler
Sweet Tea
Pimento Cheese
Up next on the docket:
Chicken and Dumplin's
Banana pudding
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Kindness.
I've been thinking lately about how important kindness is in the world and how much better off we'd all be if everyone just tried a little harder. It sounds simple, I know, but the most important concepts in the world are really frighteningly simple when it comes down to it, aren't they? We all get caught up in the day to day of our own lives and the little people around us that we don't stop and think of how we're ultimately all responsible for our brothers and sisters in the world.
I believe God has put all of us here for a reason and He's given us each a job or a strength that we need to discover and play to. I've discovered that I'm at my best when I'm taking care of people. It makes me feel good to help me. I like to entertain, not only because I like the planning and the cooking, etc but because I feel like when someone comes into my home and I make a fuss over them that maybe for that short period of time we're together they feel like they're important enough to have a fuss made over them.
It's amazing how a little kindness from one person to another can turn someone's life on top over tails. Recently, I've been given the tremendous gift of kindness from a dear friend. This is someone whom I've known for years and years. Our relationship has grown slowly and steadily over the years, and we have developed an appreciation for each other unlike anything I've experienced before. We don't see each other all that regularly, but when we do we pick up right where we left off. We're peas from the same pod, and we just get each other. I've been struggling a bit lately, and this person has been there to lend an ear and a broad shoulder when I needed it most. I've been offered sympathy and gentle honestly. Mostly, I know in no uncertain terms that I have someone to lean on under any and all circumstances. Isn't that really all someone needs? To know that they have a soft place to land when it all comes crashing down around them like you never imagined it would?
I've always considered myself strong and resilient. I've faced a lot of challenges in my life, and I've come through them all fairly unscathed and a better person for it. I come from a long line of strong women. It's proven to be a blessing and a curse. There have been plenty of times when I've just wanted to crumble into a heap on the floor and give up. I just don't think it's in my DNA. I almost feel like I'm incapable of giving up. Even when I think I have no fight left and I've resigned myself to giving up, I wake up with a renewed spirit and feel that maybe there's just a glimmer of fight left in me yet. Perhaps I'm simply too stubborn. Perhaps it's just that I secretly enjoy the man vs. conflict struggle if only to see who will emerge victorious. More likely, it's just my strong faith in God that teaches me He won't give me any burden I can't handle and hoping that I can prove to Him he's right about me. Like Mother Theresa, though, I just wish He didn't trust me so much. Ha! Do you like how I compared myself to Mother Theresa? Awesome.
When you're "the strong one," you are the only everyone trusts and comes to when they're struggling and needing support, etc. I wouldn't have it any other way. I love that my friends and family rely on me for help. If for no other reason, the control freak in me knows that I will do whatever it takes to help or find someone who can. The dark side of that coin is that when you're "the strong one," you're really not allowed to not be the strong one. People don't know how to react. They don't know what to do. And then you find yourself standing all alone in the middle of hard times. I've come to think that it's because once the strong one isn't strong they are faced with coming to terms with their own lack of strength. If their rock is starting to crumble, well then, their footing is shaking at best.
Unfortunately, that doesn't leave the strong one many options when the inevitable rain starts to fall. You see, I tried it once. After the birth of The Little One, I struggled with postpartum depression. It completely blindsided me, and it wasn't really until I was most of the way through it did I even really realize what was going on. I spent the first 6 months of The Little One's life sitting on the couch nursing him and crying, feeling lost and hopeless, wondering why I couldn't manage to bounce back to my former "Johnny on the spot" personality. As strong willed as I know I am, I just couldn't manage to will myself out of it.
I will never forget the day that I realized I was on my own. On my own for the rest of my life. I was home alone with the baby, quietly crying for a reason I wasn't even quite sure of myself when the phone rang. It was my best friend. I tried to pull myself together to answer the phone, but she could tell I was crying. When she asked me what was wrong, I simply said, "I'm falling apart." She got quiet for a moment and said, "You're falling apart? I'm sorry." There was no "I'll be right over" and no "what can I do." It was more of an "Oh crap. Now what?" I heard from her less and less after that until contact pretty much stopped altogether until a few months later when she had a crisis and needed me. And I took her back because she needed help, and I would never turn my back on someone who needed help. During the same period of time, someone very close to me (someone I should trust above anyone else) asked why I hadn't done something I was supposed to do. I said, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been rather depressed lately." Their reply? "Yeah, I noticed." Perhaps it's just because it's such a foreign concept to me, but at that instant my heart shattered into a million pieces, never to be whole again. Shortly after those instances, some new friends I had been spending more time with sat me down and said, "We've been a little worried that you seem like you might be experiencing some postpartum depression. Do you think you are? So-and-So went through that. She might be able to help. You should talk to her. Have you talked to your doctor?" These were neighbors I spent a little time with, but just the fact that someone noticed and cared enough to reach out meant the world to me. I felt like I was sitting on the couch silently screaming, "Someone please ask me if I need help." You see, us "strong ones" are usually afraid to need help. It scares us when we can usually take care of ourselves and everyone around us but can't all of a sudden, and we certainly don't want to add to anyone else's burden by asking. The funny thing about us "strong ones" is that we don't want anyone to hesitate to come to us because we can handle anything... it's OK.. just ask. A burden shared is a burden halved, right? I'm not saying it makes all that much sense, it's just the way it is.
You can rest assured, however, that any time since when I've had a problem I've kept it to myself. I'm not sure if it's more out of fear of crashing and burning or if it's simply resignation to the fact that this is my lot in life, and when it comes down to it I know that I can handle whatever is thrown my way and make it through to the other side. It's a lesson I don't want anyone else to have to learn.
When I finally mustered the courage to speak to my friend about these issues, it was only in the context of seeking advice on a related subject and I needed to share this information. However, the kindness shown to me that day and days since has gone a long way to restore my faith in humanity. I hope the way I felt that day is the way I make my friends and family feel when they have a problem. A feeling of "no matter what I'm here to help how ever I can" a feeling of unconditional love and support. It didn't take much on the friend's part to make me feel safe. I've never called in the middle of the night, asked for any favors, or even wanted anything in particular. Just knowing that if it ever comes down to it, if I ever REALLY needed anything I have somewhere to go and someone to turn to. Everyone in life needs that. God didn't put us here to go through life on our own.
There can be so much hatred and ugliness in the world today. It makes me sad. However, I truly believe that the act of showing someone just a little kindness overshadows the ugliness in the world. I truly do believe that good triumphs over evil in the end.... that's there's so much more energy in doing good than in bad. One small act of a well-meant kindness is enough to brighten the darkest of days. You never know whose life you're going to impact with a smile or a kind word. Without you knowing, it just might be exactly what they needed that day.
This brings me to another thought today... Worse than being unkind is being apathetic. When I said, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been rather depressed." I was hoping to get a response somewhere along the lines of "I've been so wrapped up in other things that I didn't notice. How can I help?" or even "Yes, I've noticed, but I really didn't know what to say." Instead what I heard was "Yes, I noticed but didn't really care enough to do anything about it." To me, the message I got, loud and clear, was that I wasn't important enough waste the effort on and that I just, plain and simple, don't matter. I just don't matter.
Now that the fog has lifted, now that I'm thinking a little more clearly I realize that I DO matter. If nothing else, I matter to myself. I try hard every single day to be a positive influence in people's lives. I think to myself "what one thing can I do, big or small, to make someone's life a little better today" and then I set out to do that. Even if it's just putting a silly knock-knock joke into the The Big One's lunchbox, I've done something to make someone smile. I deserve that, too. It's humbling when you realize that the people who go farthest out of your way to please are the ones who take you the most for granted. It's even more humbling when you realize that the people who are really there for you come from the most unexpected places in your lives. Mostly, I thank God every day for bringing the exact right person into my life at the exact time I need them most. He's funny that way, eh?
So, now I'm faced with a life knowing that I'm basically on my own unless the world collapses in on me... Knowing that I have to be strong and suffer through things that shouldn't necessarily have to be "suffered through" for the greater good and for the good of others and their feelings. Is that the cross we "strong ones" bear or are we simply martyrs fooling ourselves and everyone else?
I believe God has put all of us here for a reason and He's given us each a job or a strength that we need to discover and play to. I've discovered that I'm at my best when I'm taking care of people. It makes me feel good to help me. I like to entertain, not only because I like the planning and the cooking, etc but because I feel like when someone comes into my home and I make a fuss over them that maybe for that short period of time we're together they feel like they're important enough to have a fuss made over them.
It's amazing how a little kindness from one person to another can turn someone's life on top over tails. Recently, I've been given the tremendous gift of kindness from a dear friend. This is someone whom I've known for years and years. Our relationship has grown slowly and steadily over the years, and we have developed an appreciation for each other unlike anything I've experienced before. We don't see each other all that regularly, but when we do we pick up right where we left off. We're peas from the same pod, and we just get each other. I've been struggling a bit lately, and this person has been there to lend an ear and a broad shoulder when I needed it most. I've been offered sympathy and gentle honestly. Mostly, I know in no uncertain terms that I have someone to lean on under any and all circumstances. Isn't that really all someone needs? To know that they have a soft place to land when it all comes crashing down around them like you never imagined it would?
I've always considered myself strong and resilient. I've faced a lot of challenges in my life, and I've come through them all fairly unscathed and a better person for it. I come from a long line of strong women. It's proven to be a blessing and a curse. There have been plenty of times when I've just wanted to crumble into a heap on the floor and give up. I just don't think it's in my DNA. I almost feel like I'm incapable of giving up. Even when I think I have no fight left and I've resigned myself to giving up, I wake up with a renewed spirit and feel that maybe there's just a glimmer of fight left in me yet. Perhaps I'm simply too stubborn. Perhaps it's just that I secretly enjoy the man vs. conflict struggle if only to see who will emerge victorious. More likely, it's just my strong faith in God that teaches me He won't give me any burden I can't handle and hoping that I can prove to Him he's right about me. Like Mother Theresa, though, I just wish He didn't trust me so much. Ha! Do you like how I compared myself to Mother Theresa? Awesome.
When you're "the strong one," you are the only everyone trusts and comes to when they're struggling and needing support, etc. I wouldn't have it any other way. I love that my friends and family rely on me for help. If for no other reason, the control freak in me knows that I will do whatever it takes to help or find someone who can. The dark side of that coin is that when you're "the strong one," you're really not allowed to not be the strong one. People don't know how to react. They don't know what to do. And then you find yourself standing all alone in the middle of hard times. I've come to think that it's because once the strong one isn't strong they are faced with coming to terms with their own lack of strength. If their rock is starting to crumble, well then, their footing is shaking at best.
Unfortunately, that doesn't leave the strong one many options when the inevitable rain starts to fall. You see, I tried it once. After the birth of The Little One, I struggled with postpartum depression. It completely blindsided me, and it wasn't really until I was most of the way through it did I even really realize what was going on. I spent the first 6 months of The Little One's life sitting on the couch nursing him and crying, feeling lost and hopeless, wondering why I couldn't manage to bounce back to my former "Johnny on the spot" personality. As strong willed as I know I am, I just couldn't manage to will myself out of it.
I will never forget the day that I realized I was on my own. On my own for the rest of my life. I was home alone with the baby, quietly crying for a reason I wasn't even quite sure of myself when the phone rang. It was my best friend. I tried to pull myself together to answer the phone, but she could tell I was crying. When she asked me what was wrong, I simply said, "I'm falling apart." She got quiet for a moment and said, "You're falling apart? I'm sorry." There was no "I'll be right over" and no "what can I do." It was more of an "Oh crap. Now what?" I heard from her less and less after that until contact pretty much stopped altogether until a few months later when she had a crisis and needed me. And I took her back because she needed help, and I would never turn my back on someone who needed help. During the same period of time, someone very close to me (someone I should trust above anyone else) asked why I hadn't done something I was supposed to do. I said, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been rather depressed lately." Their reply? "Yeah, I noticed." Perhaps it's just because it's such a foreign concept to me, but at that instant my heart shattered into a million pieces, never to be whole again. Shortly after those instances, some new friends I had been spending more time with sat me down and said, "We've been a little worried that you seem like you might be experiencing some postpartum depression. Do you think you are? So-and-So went through that. She might be able to help. You should talk to her. Have you talked to your doctor?" These were neighbors I spent a little time with, but just the fact that someone noticed and cared enough to reach out meant the world to me. I felt like I was sitting on the couch silently screaming, "Someone please ask me if I need help." You see, us "strong ones" are usually afraid to need help. It scares us when we can usually take care of ourselves and everyone around us but can't all of a sudden, and we certainly don't want to add to anyone else's burden by asking. The funny thing about us "strong ones" is that we don't want anyone to hesitate to come to us because we can handle anything... it's OK.. just ask. A burden shared is a burden halved, right? I'm not saying it makes all that much sense, it's just the way it is.
You can rest assured, however, that any time since when I've had a problem I've kept it to myself. I'm not sure if it's more out of fear of crashing and burning or if it's simply resignation to the fact that this is my lot in life, and when it comes down to it I know that I can handle whatever is thrown my way and make it through to the other side. It's a lesson I don't want anyone else to have to learn.
When I finally mustered the courage to speak to my friend about these issues, it was only in the context of seeking advice on a related subject and I needed to share this information. However, the kindness shown to me that day and days since has gone a long way to restore my faith in humanity. I hope the way I felt that day is the way I make my friends and family feel when they have a problem. A feeling of "no matter what I'm here to help how ever I can" a feeling of unconditional love and support. It didn't take much on the friend's part to make me feel safe. I've never called in the middle of the night, asked for any favors, or even wanted anything in particular. Just knowing that if it ever comes down to it, if I ever REALLY needed anything I have somewhere to go and someone to turn to. Everyone in life needs that. God didn't put us here to go through life on our own.
There can be so much hatred and ugliness in the world today. It makes me sad. However, I truly believe that the act of showing someone just a little kindness overshadows the ugliness in the world. I truly do believe that good triumphs over evil in the end.... that's there's so much more energy in doing good than in bad. One small act of a well-meant kindness is enough to brighten the darkest of days. You never know whose life you're going to impact with a smile or a kind word. Without you knowing, it just might be exactly what they needed that day.
This brings me to another thought today... Worse than being unkind is being apathetic. When I said, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been rather depressed." I was hoping to get a response somewhere along the lines of "I've been so wrapped up in other things that I didn't notice. How can I help?" or even "Yes, I've noticed, but I really didn't know what to say." Instead what I heard was "Yes, I noticed but didn't really care enough to do anything about it." To me, the message I got, loud and clear, was that I wasn't important enough waste the effort on and that I just, plain and simple, don't matter. I just don't matter.
Now that the fog has lifted, now that I'm thinking a little more clearly I realize that I DO matter. If nothing else, I matter to myself. I try hard every single day to be a positive influence in people's lives. I think to myself "what one thing can I do, big or small, to make someone's life a little better today" and then I set out to do that. Even if it's just putting a silly knock-knock joke into the The Big One's lunchbox, I've done something to make someone smile. I deserve that, too. It's humbling when you realize that the people who go farthest out of your way to please are the ones who take you the most for granted. It's even more humbling when you realize that the people who are really there for you come from the most unexpected places in your lives. Mostly, I thank God every day for bringing the exact right person into my life at the exact time I need them most. He's funny that way, eh?
So, now I'm faced with a life knowing that I'm basically on my own unless the world collapses in on me... Knowing that I have to be strong and suffer through things that shouldn't necessarily have to be "suffered through" for the greater good and for the good of others and their feelings. Is that the cross we "strong ones" bear or are we simply martyrs fooling ourselves and everyone else?
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