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Fragile Little Flower

balcony garden

This picture was taken once upon a time* when I had a dreamy job working from home. Whenever the weather was nice enough, which it almost always is, I would sit out there to work. Eight hours in front of a computer isn’t so bad when your cubicle mates are humming birds. I miss sitting out there.

For the last two months I’ve been working long hours in an office. It’s only temporary and it’s a beautiful office, but it kills me how little time there is left in a day when you work away from home. I mean, I never used to have to put on makeup or plan my outfits or shower, even. I feel like I lose hours every day just primping. It’s kind of fun, actually. I’ve never felt so feminine. But that’s not the point. The point is, from waking until almost bedtime I’m either preparing for work, working, or doing household chores. Most days I don’t get a minute to myself until after nine-thirty at night. How does that happen? Where do the days go?

While we’re on the topic, how on GOD’S GREEN EARTH do parents with fulltime jobs make it through a week? Seriously. Because I can barely manage it and I only have dogs. I don’t know how I would manage my life and my marriage if I had another human being to look after. I don’t think I would ever sleep, ever again. I’ve already given up exercising. I haven’t moved my body, except to stand up and sit down, in two months. And for the record, I’m not getting enough sleep. It’s horrible. I should go to bed right now, but then I wouldn’t get to sit here and complain about how hard my child-free first world life is.

I know there are people reading this blog who have careers and happy marriages and children and always look great and put together and I cannot wrap my head around how they do it. I feel like it would be impossible. Am I just incredibly weak? That must be it. I’m a fragile little flower. No wonder I love sitting out on the balcony in the sun all afternoon. It explains everything.

How do you do it? You super-people with your careers and your babies and your perfect hair? I want to know.

Happy Places

All in bloom

My Christmas cactus, in early December, all in bloom. I ended up not watering it enough so all the blooms died and the green parts shriveled up and turned purple. Luckily, my mother-in-law pointed out my oversight and the plant has since recovered beautifully. This morning I counted six tiny, pink buds on its arms. Six!

I’m really making an effort to focus on the happy places. Like the buds on my Christmas cactus or the sunflower pen Dopey made for my birthday. And I’ve found that the happy I pull from the happy places make the rest of the garbage go away. For the most part. I mean, garbage doesn’t ever go away and no matter what it always stinks, but still. Happy places. Flowers and family photos, amulets, even. I bought this little stone sculpture in Bolivia and I keep it on my desk at work. It’s Pachamama, Mother World. I don’t know why, but that heavy, roughly carved stone brings me great comfort. If things get really stressful, (and there’s a lot of reasons for things to be stressful right now) I’ll pick it up and cradle it in my hands. Let the weight of it pull me. Whisper her name, Pachamama. Rub her three faces with the pads of my thumbs and just breathe. For a minute. It soothes me.

I probably sound like I’m losing my mind. Happy places. HAPPY PLACES!

Christmas cactus

*What’s that in the lower right corner of the photo? Just my super cool display of a mummified mouse family.

**Is it possible to take a picture against glass without catching a reflection? Is it possible for someone to explain it to me without being all technical and confusing?