on holidays.

"As a child, Christmas seems less like a holiday and more like some invincible force of happy.  Of warmth and of light.  Of stockings hanging from mantles and picturesque fog on windows.  Of course, there are still some grown-ups who feel this way, and I can never decide if I think they're lucky or naive or both.

But the truth about Christmas is that it's just as capable of being spoiled as any other day of the year.  There is no great fortress around it. It has no superpowers.


The day I became privy to this was the day I found Josephina underneath the tree.  My American Girl doll.  Brushable hair and the kind of eyes and that closed and shut.  Flawless.  I remember holding her, standing alone in a quiet living room feeling unsure about what to do with myself.

White lights were still meticulously stranded on the tree, the imitation evergreen branches still aglow.  There was wrapping paper on the floor and garland around the banister and all of the Christmas paraphernalia you could need to feel merry and bright as ever.  I felt dim.

I remember an argument starting earlier that morning, in the corner where my parents sat.  A dark, fussy cloud settled over each of their heads.  Just like mistletoe, only garnering the opposite effect.  My brother and I, both masters of distraction, doing our best to talk over them and keep each other preoccupied with new presents.  Even though I doubt we were even paying attention to silly presents at that point.  We could sense a storm coming, and when a storm is coming, it's generally difficult to focus on anything else.  You know, the same way food doesn't taste good anymore when you're nervous.

At some point, the tempest reached a sort of pinnacle followed by my dad parading out the front door in a fit of Christmas rage.  This is similar to Christmas cheer, only not at all.  In any way. 

Somehow, all three of us, that being me, my mom and brother, ended up on my parent's bed - the mainstay of the family.  Kind of like Santa's sleigh, only for sleeping on instead of delivering presents.  I didn't fully understand the situation at the time.  I think I was mostly thinking of myself and wondering how this day of all days could have ended like this, in tears on a bed.  Now I realize that crying is just what you do when you're at a complete loss to console any of the people you love.  I also remember that my feet were freezing, even bundled underneath the white down comforter.  I remember wondering why did we go to all of this trouble every year anyway, if it was just going to make everyone upset?

The next year in school, I was supposed to write a letter to Santa Clause.  Apparently he needed another annual notification of my material desires.  You know the drill.  I wrote that I simply and sincerely wanted nothing more than for December 25th not to result in an argument.  I wasn't trying to be dramatic or anything.  Just, honestly, what good are presents if families couldn't all be in the same room together to open them?

My outrageously nosy teacher decided it would be a good idea to call my mom and inform her of what I had written.  Because, for reasons that escape me, she found it concerning and thought it was any of her business.  And I remember my mom crying, again.  Which was really the opposite of what I had wanted.   Thanks, Mrs. Lee.  (And if you're reading this, that was sarcasm.)

You see, Christmas puts pressure on people until they storm out of front doors.  Christmas plants a certain sense of helplessness inside of me causes it to grow and spread throughout my entire body.

And I'm not saying that liking this holiday is stupid or that anyone who does is inferior or even that any of this is rational or justified.  It's just that Christmas has always had a way of blowing up in my face.

So falalalala yourself."

         -From a while ago.  And for the record, this is a poor representation of the top notch job my parents did of raising me in a happy, loving home.  Because it was.  We've just always struggled with the big holidays, buckled under the pressure or something like that.

I made a wreath.

I made it last week.  And by "made" I mean I bought a wreath consisting of messy branches and attached a bunch of visually-appealing stuff to it with floral wire.  The most difficult part was running around the house looking for the missing pieces that the cat had stolen while I was focusing on something else.

sneaky brat

I also may have spent the majority of last Saturday feverishly adorning our house with any other decorations I had.  And then decorating the rest of it with left-over ribbon to remind everyone who comes within 100 feet of our house that, Hey!  It's Fall!  Just in case you forgot.

And guess what?  You people who want to say, "Woah, Meg, you need to calm down.  It isn't even October yet," you can't say anything anymore.  Because it's officially October 1st.  So this is normal now.

peaches and personal revelation

I first learned that God listened to my prayers through a hamster.  His name was Peaches.  My family named him this because he had orange fur, and his little bum looked just like a peach.  It was unanimous.

Peaches died a tragic death by marshmallow peep.  He found his way into my brother's Easter basket and thought he'd try eating one which expanded in his body and asphyxiated him until dead.  Like I said, tragic.  I've never really understood Peeps.  White, fluffy sugar covered in more sugar, just colorful this time, shaped like bunnies and baby birds.  Anyway, I digress. 

Before his passing, Peaches and I were thick as thieves.  The only trouble was, hamsters are small.  At the tender age of 7, I wasn't very skilled at keeping track of the day of the week, let alone small items such as hamsters.  I used to place him in random spots, like my sock drawer, and forget about him.  A few hours later I would realize -- the hamster was lost. 

This was typically followed by complete chaos, caused by my entire family's efforts to find our lost Peaches.  When I had exhausted every place I could think of, and resorted to shameless tears, I had a thought.  If anybody knew where my hamster was, it was God.  I mean, he knew lots of things, right?

I said a prayer, Please help us find Peaches.  Every time, without fail, Peaches turned up in a matter of minutes.  And that's how I knew.  God knew me.  He wanted to help.  He was generally easy to get a hold of.  He listened, he answered, he cared.

Last night, I felt a bit nostalgic.  The cat made a mad dash out the front door as we opened it for some visitors. She ran and ran, father than we had ever seen her run, through a neighbor's yard and into the dark of the night.  We knew we wouldn't be able to sleep until she was home safe, especially with a thunderstorm rolling in.  We had to find her, and quick.  And might I add how happy I was at this point that she was a cat and not a hamster.

After about an hour of walking around with flashlights, jingling bells, shaking bags of food, calling out, "Kitty kiiittyyy!" and a bunch of other things that I'm sure were sincerely concerning to our neighbors, we were at a loss.  Drew stood on the back porch, slumped his shoulders, said, "What do we do?"

"I don't know..."

Wait, yes I do.  "How about we say a prayer."

He nodded.  We walked to our room, knelt down by our bed, and I said a simple prayer.  Please help us to find our cute little kitty.  We like her.  

After that, we decided to go sit out on the porch, wait for her to come to us.  I went to grab my book, and heard Drew say, "Hey, there she is!"  He was holding her when he walked inside and locked the front door, said, "Well that was fast."

pieces.

This weekend, I ate cake for breakfast.  

Not everyday.  Just once.

But nothing says "long weekend!" quite like cake for breakfast.

This weekend I decided that

houses that face east are the best kind of houses.

Because of all the natural light.

This weekend, I went to the mall
for the first time in ages.
I bought a candle called "Leaves."
Because I am a big supporter of ringing in the Autumn season
way too early.
Like, when it's still over 90 degrees outside.
The candle smells like apple cider and cinnamon.
Which, in fact, smell nothing like actual leaves.
But I'm willing to let that go.

This weekend, I also bought $15 lip gloss,
and I'm now realizing that that is a crap load of money
to spend on a teeny tiny tube of shiny, sticky stuff.
Actually, Drew bought it.
But he was a good sport. 
Though not exactly enthusiastic about kissing sticky lips.

This weekend, I saw my best friend.
The one heaven threw into my life with perfect timing.
We laughed and there may have been Ke$ha playing in the car
for the first time in years.
We were not ashamed.
I miss her.

This weekend, I took far too many pictures of my house. 
But only the clean, pretty parts. 
So that you all can think that my house is clean and pretty
all over the place.

This weekend, I watched my husband spray the weeds and mow the lawn.
And I thought to myself, "Hey, look, I have a husband.  And a lawn.
How idyllic."

no place like

Waking up in a new place is always an adjustment.  A little disoriented.  But I'm sure these windows that drenched us in sunlight this morning will look more like home eventually.  It will feel like home soon.

Last night, we ate pizza.  Because none of our cooking paraphernalia was unpacked and all of our food was still inside of a fridge in another city.  That kind of night, of all nights, is a pizza night. 

On the way home from picking it up, I stopped by the gas station and left the Gatorade I bought for Drew on the cashier counter.  I didn't realize it until I was home.

I'd like to...

-Turn off the TV by 10:30pm each night to read

-Use people's names when I talk with them

-Wake up earlier for scripture study

-Try more DIY or art projects

-Print pictures and frame them

-Write more songs with Drew

-Give more compliments, free of charge

-Keep my car and home organized and clean

-Eat more vegetables

-Buy a film camera, and learn how to use it

-Talk on the phone with one of my parents at least once a week

-Go on a date with one of my friends approximately twice a month

-Journal, with an actual pen on actual paper

-Learn about photography

-Keep a planner

-Talk to myself with kinder language (because what we believe about ourselves generally comes true)

-Self-research things I find interesting

-Watch more TED talks

-Go on more walks

-Do a few simple work outs a week

-Pick up my cello or guitar a few times a week

-Re-vamp my wardrobe

-Make more to-do lists with specific goals, rather than vague wishes

-Buy a cute house like this:

And move in today.

At least that last one I can say is a "check!"

none.

I have only just got my head above water.  

There is still a mountain to climb.

misc.

"Hope on. Journey on. 

Honestly acknowledge your questions and your concerns, 

but first and forever 

fan the flame of your faith, 

because all things are possible 

to them that believe."

-Jeffrey R. Holland

Drew finally came home yesterday, after deserting me*.  Which means I was actually able to get a good night's sleep for the first time in FOREVER.**

It's kind of pathetic, really.  I used to sleep alone every single night of my life and everything went fine.  Now I have to wear one of Drew's shirts and leave lights on, and not even that works.

Before Drew happened, I planned on living all alone in a classy studio apartment...in New York, or somewhere else edgy, until I was at least 28.  When I think about that now, I just laugh. 

Oh, and I didn't end up getting that promotion, in case anyone cares.  I took it harder than I should have, mostly because the news came on the week of the month where I'm incapable of handling most anything emotionally.  You know.

Seriously.  It was so dramatic.  The only thing I can compare it to is the feeling of getting dumped. Where you feel sad and heavy and sorry for yourself all day long.  And you might be able to take your mind off of it here and there, but then you remember.  And it's like you just heard the news for the first time all over again.  And you can't stop talking about it to everyone and anyone who gives you eye contact.  This can go on for any number of days.  And did.  But I'm better now.

If you're like me, and your guilty pleasure is acoustic guitar, poetic lyrics and haunting melodies, you should really listen to this guy.  He just released a new album, and I'm obsessed.  It's the perfect rainy day music, but I listen to it every other day too.  It makes Drew want to fall asleep.

I'm getting seriously annoyed with being a grown-up in the Summertime.  In any other season, it's still generally bothersome, but not nearly to this degree.  I need outdoor adventures involving tan lines, swim suits, sunglasses, questionably-colored lake water, boat fuel, and not wearing pants!  Don't you understand?  But I'm just sitting in a chair.  In jeans!

*going on a business trip
**meaning two whole entire days

none

Apparently, last Sunday, some dude went a little bit crazy.  At church.  He punched and ran into a man with his car because this man had been saving seats.  At church.  You know, where people go on a weekly basis to learn how to be like Jesus? 

Seriously.  It's on the news.

Come on, humans. 

We still haven't figured out where to live.  And I still don't know whether or not I got a new position at work.  All I know is I am so tired of my stomach being chronically knotted up.  And it really needs to rain in the west some time very soon or I'm pretty sure we're all gonna die.

My dad plays in this super cool geezer band.  He's still got it.  Drew jumped in and played a song when we saw them last weekend while my mom and I danced.  It was great fun, in spite of all the drunk middle-aged women around us.  Then again, they provided their fair share of entertainment.

I'm basically writing right now to get my mind off of the present.  You see, I have that second job interview today.  And I just can't seem to calm down.  My jaw is clenching and my legs are jumpy.  I'm freezing but sweating.  Rehearsing what I consider to be "my biggest strengths and weaknesses" in my head over and over again.  

I wish the super moon would come back.  Wish me luck or something.

this week.

I feel that.

So, our old landlord found a new tenant for our old apartment.  That means that we no longer have to pay for the month of July, which is the best news I've gotten in...I don't know.  At least since the cancellation of Jersey Shore.

I lost my bra yesterday.  Somewhere along the way to our workout class, my bra went missing.  I completely forgot about this until this morning, and I was late to work after burrowing through bags of unpacked clothing to find a replacement bra.  I'm still not sure of the exact location of my preferred bra, but will keep you updated.

We put an offer in on another house.  Because the last one fell through.  Which is not a rare case by any means.  As for this house, I kind of love it.  It's quirky and has old-fashioned moldings and windows, a cool spiral staircase, windows on the roof and a reasonably updated kitchen.  But I'm realizing that it's possible for me to fall in love with an extremely wide range of houses.  So, if we don't get it, whatever.  There are always more houses.  So many houses everywhere.

I applied and interviewed for a promotion at work.  Interviews are the worst.  Sitting in a room with a stranger, talking yourself up as if that's ever socially acceptable.  As if you have so much practice talking about how awesome you are.  Nobody likes people who do that.  Except for in job interviews.  Then it's totally fine.  Anyway, I figure it was worth a try.  I also got what they're calling a second interview on Friday.  Second interview?  I feel like I spent all of my bragging juices up on the last one!

Speaking of Jersey Shore, do you know people who seem to wish that their life was like that show?  What I mean by that is, they have problems, or "beef," if you will, with a plethora of individuals.  So many individuals and problems with these individuals that you can't even keep them straight anymore.  And it puts a pretty big damper on any sort of social gathering you might want to plan in the future.  (Such as a housewarming party?  Is that wishful thinking?  Probably.) 

It's diabolical behavior, this having problems with peeps.  If someone bothers me, I just, you know, walk away from that person.  Just like I would a bush full of bees.  If this person is somewhere that I am, I don't let it ruin my whole entire night/week/LIFE.  And I definitely wouldn't get mad at the person who invited me to this gathering for not considering my current drama-related dilemma that I undeniably brought upon myself.  What is it with these people.  Having problems.  With people.

Anyway.  It feels like Friday, but it's not.  I want to have a brownie, but I don't.  And that's life, I guess.

my husband the pitcher man. my stylish father.

There was a sunset last night.  There was a sunset as we loaded the last of our boxes into cars.  I don't mean that in the way that there are sunsets every night.  I mean there was a sunset last night, that burned pink and orange and dark blue, getting brighter by the minute.

I need a picture of that.  After this box, I'm getting a picture of that sunset.

I never took a picture.  And I'm still thinking about how I regret not taking a picture of that gorgeous sunset that bid us farewell on the last day in our first apartment of our whole entire life together.   As I drove away, I saw it drop behind the horizon.  It sunk down past the cut-out-cardboard silhouette of the mountains, where you can never get anything back once it's gone.

These are the things I do to myself, in my brain.  It's torture.  Because obviously that wasn't the last sunset I'll ever see, and it isn't as if we're moving out of the country or anything.  We live ten minutes away if you take the freeway, and will most likely end up back in American Fork by Fall.  But moving has always been significant for me.

You take down all of your carefully-placed pictures, all of the magnets that held little notes to the fridge.  You take down that card someone wrote you or that potted plant your mom gave you which almost died that one time you went on vacation and forgot about it.  You take it all down, you pack it all up.  You literally move on.

It's the ending of one chapter, the beginning of another.  And it makes me so nostalgic and sentimental I practically drown in the feeling of it all.  Such ridiculous emotional indulgence.  Who knows how I function on a regular basis.

I enter the freeway, end the phone call with Drew about what food he should pick up on the way because we're both just starving.  I'm singing to Radiohead, I think, because the local high school station is on a kick lately, which is fine with me.  One song ends, another begins.  The cat and I are meowing back and forth because she hates car rides and being in her traveling cage and she tries to bite her way out.  I laugh, but admire her determination.

And the kids at that radio station must have been pretty in-tune with the universe last night, because then they played "Home."

Home.  Let me come home.
Home is wherever I'm with you.
Oh, home.  Yes, I am home.
Home is where I'm alone with you.

And, for some reason, that about made up for the whole sunset thing.

Growing up is packing all of your earthly possessions into boxes and wondering how your parents did this so many times.  Growing up is having a landlord who rides around your apartment on a bike, peeking in all of the windows.  It's forgetting what season it is because all you do is sit in a heated and air conditioned office all day.  Growing up is not even getting excited on payday, because BILLS, and knowing that at least half of your paycheck will be gone before you get a chance to calculate where to.

Growing up is acknowledging that you despise of something, and doing it regardless, because nobody else is going to do it for you.  And if they are, then what kind of grown-up are you, anyway?

Growing up also means eating cake at 10:30 pm, right after working out.  And with your bare hands because you already packed all of the eating utensils.  It's having a husband who still thinks you're at least somewhat appealing after you do such repulsive things.

 Sometimes it can be pretty cool, I guess.   Even when your life feels kind of up in the air and that's one of your least-favorite feelings because you have the type of personality that thrives in security.

“Don’t wonder why people go crazy.  Wonder why they don’t.  In the face of all we can lose in a day, in an instant, wonder what it is that makes us hold it together.”

      -Grey's (I know.  I'm obsessed.  It's okay.)

We're moving.  It's all happening pretty fast, and I'm a little bit sad about leaving our one-bedroom Love Shack.  With its big windows and convenient location.  But I know we'll be fine.  Which is so bizarrely positive of me.

Drew has definitely rubbed off on me.   It's bound to happen at some point, I guess.  When you eat, sleep, brush your teeth and have the majority of your conversations with a specific someone for a considerable amount of time.  Not complaining.

We'll be living in my brother's house for a few months (he and his wife are in Florida for the summer) while we find another place to live.  We're putting in an offer on a house that we're hoping and praying we get.  Perfect size, location, price, everything.

So, if you're at all religious, say a little prayer for us, yes?

If you aren't religious, cross your fingers or boil some herbs or whatever it is you think may bring us some good fortune.  Not that we're especially lacking in it.

It's just there's a garage and storage space and a yard!  A real yard with grass and trees!  Can you even imagine?  And this is really unlike me because I usually avoid talking about any potential good thing until it is a guarantee.  So...not sure what's happening right now.

 It's a pretty obnoxious process, moving.  Even though Drew does the majority of the heavy lifting.

But what were we supposed to do, leave our precious kitty out on the street?!

As if.

I saw a lady dance yesterday
She was easily swayed
I cannot be tossed and turned 

in this way
I'm not your tiny dancer

-LM

 

Because words are failing me.  Because my lips are dry, my skin is itchy and my allergies are back after a week in a kinder, more humid climate.  Because my thoughts refuse to organize and have been insisting on this diabolical behavior for too long now.  

Because these days are starting to blur into one in a way that I find unsettling.  Because I keep jumping back and forth between plans and I just can't seem to get a grip.  Because I'm missing people, and never know how to handle that.  Because I get myself down, and then feel guilty for it, which gets me even more down, if that's even a thing.  Because I'm still not sure how to measure my both precious and insignificant existence.

But Laura Marling's new album is out.  And I have this husband who takes my hand and tells me he loves me with words on a daily basis like he knows I need.  So I'm planning on burying myself for a while, into these good things.  And not even I know what I mean by that.

"You came here to tell me something I already know. Dark before the dawn is the darkest I can go. The calm before the storm is what leaves me here to breathe. So breathe. Us of constant banging, throwing fists against the wall. Screaming at the earth for what it's done to one and all. I came here to tell you something you already know. Just Breathe. Breathe."

-L.M.

We moved to the valley,
We had a great view
Until the housing developments
Spread out and overgrew.

As far as our debts go,
We're a few dollars shy.
But we'll pay it off slowly
Until we eventually die.

I meant to call you 
Just the other night.
But I lost my
Electronic device
Don't have any numbers
Memorized. 

stroll.

"Praise the spells and bless the charms

I found April in my arms.

April golden, April cloudy,

Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;

April soft in flowered languor,

April cold with sudden anger,

Ever changing, ever true -

I love April, I love you."

-Ogden Nash 

Spring is like a dream.  I mean, there are flowers everywhere.  It's important to savor it because in Utah, it isn't long before all of the green of life blooming around us turns to brown. Dead, dried, flammable brown.  

On a walk Saturday night, Drew and I slowly strolled, enjoying the just-right temperature and cracked, uneven sidewalks. It used to be that a trip around this city would bring back a flood of memories into my mind.  Every street sign, park or neighborhood had a story to tell about nights spent years ago with someone I don't keep in contact with anymore.  It used to make me sad.  I felt like it had all gone to waste for some reason.  But I realized as we walked that I had somehow passed that feeling up.  It didn't feel like I was walking through memories anymore.  I doubt this will make sense to anyone.  But it felt like I had been living like this, in the one bedroom next to a convenience store, taking walks and talking about the future with a husband named Drew my whole entire life. 

I studied blossoming trees, city buildings and old charming houses with well-manicured lawns.  It's hard to decide if this is a good or bad thing, but I wouldn't mind it if I never lived anywhere else. 

I would recommend.

This book:

I read it over the weekend.  There is something about the Holocaust and WWII era that I tend to be both drawn to and deeply disturbed by.  These are things that actually happened, in our world, committed by our same human race.  All I can think is, Why, why, why, why, why?  But I keep studying it because of the inspiring strength of the people that lived it.  Yes, if you asked, I would recommend this book.

This show:

 Words really can't describe or do it any justice.  My latest obsession.  We just finished the second season, and the third is only being filmed right now.  What am I supposed to do until January?  Also, the actor who plays Sherlock is named Benedict Cumberbatch. If that doesn't convince you, I don't know what will.  That name could not be more English if it tried.   If you asked, I would most certainly recommend this show.

This musician: 

Seriously though.  Go buy his album.  Then get in your car.  Roll the windows down, and blast it.  You can't tell me that, at this point, your life won't be at least 9.5 times better than it was pre-Jake Bugg.  If you asked, I would recommend these British-folk tunes.

Oh, and I guest-posted at the lovely Shelby's blog.  I guess I should have mentioned that.

meanwhile, at home...

The kitty missed us.  And apparently decided that tampons are the most fun she could ever have.

There is a small number of people I'm completely content to share a car with for twelve hours.  Luckily, my husband is one of them.  The easiest man in the world to be married to.

Cheers to the season's second road trip.