My Socks Don't Match!

How much time do you spend on laundry? Probably more than you would like. How much time do you spend matching socks? If all of your socks are the same, maybe not much. But if you have many different patterned socks the task can become time consuming.

I've recently decided to stop wasting so much time worrying about things like matching socks. Sure, it may be a little awkward, but life is too short to waste time worrying about something making you feel uncomfortable.

Sometimes three little words can make you uncomfortable: "I love you."

Do you remember the first time you said it to a boyfriend or girlfriend? Do you remember how terrified you were? It's because the words hold a lot more meaning than their mere eight letters would suggest.

Some families say it more often than others. Just like some families are more touchy-feely, or "huggy" than others. The thing is, life is too short to pass up the opportunity to say "I love you," to someone you really care about, whether by word or deed. Even if it's awkward.

Several years ago I felt impressed to go and visit my Aunt Wanda in the hospital. I was living in Little Rock at the time, and Oklahoma City was a simple weekend trip. While I did stay with my grandparents, the purpose of the visit really was my aunt. I enjoyed spending that time with her, even though it was a bit odd to go for the express purpose of seeing her. I was so glad later that I did it. It was the last time I saw her before she died.

The last time I saw my grandfather he was outside talking with some of the family. I felt too awkward to interrupt and say goodbye, so I just waved. We left on our trip back home, and I never saw him again. I wish now that I had overridden my feelings of discomfort and given him one last hug and said "I love you." But I can't change it now.

It makes me so glad that the night that Daddy passed that I got to say "I love you," one last time. I'm glad for the opportunities that I had and didn't pass up during his illness--to sing for him, sit with him, pray for him. I don't have regrets for anything I did, even if it made me uncomfortable at the time.

I try to be more mindful now to say "I love you." I never know when my last opportunity will be, and I don't want to neglect it. Feeling awkward over it is such a waste, and the regret really isn't worth it.

So if you catch me wearing mismatching socks, no, I haven't reached a new level of harried housewife. I'm just choosing to focus my energies on things of slightly more significance in the big scheme of things. Which would you regret more? Missing your last opportunity to say "I love you," or wearing mismatching socks?

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Miss Oblivious

I have always thought of myself as a detail-oriented person. I come from a family of detail-oriented people, so I just assumed I was the same way. This probably comes as a surprise to most people who know me, because I have a reputation for being a bit spacey. It all hit me about a week ago, and I saw myself a little more accurately.

You know how they say that you can miss the forest for all the trees? I miss the trees for the forest.

I was almost literally nicknamed "Miss Oblivious" at the office I worked at a few years ago. They had very good reason for this name. I can't tell you how many times I would be talking to a co-worker in the break room, and they would ask me why I didn't wave back when they passed me on our way to or from work on the interstate. I simply did not see them. I pay attention to the road when I'm driving, and very little else...like other drivers' maniacal attempts to get my attention.

Probably the funniest example, and a story that my friends will not let me live down, happened one time in late spring. In Alabama, spring starts early in the year, and things become green fast. I did not have a window in my office, but the front doors in the lobby were all glass. One day in May, or maybe early June, I walked up to the front doors, looked outside, turned to the receptionist--who happened to be an old friend of mine--and exclaimed, "There's leaves on the trees!" Considering the fact that there had been leaves on the trees for a couple of months, it's understandable that my friend laughed herself silly before spreading the story throughout the office.

I also recently discovered that my mother does have a trash can in her laundry room. I've been carrying the lint from the dryer all the way to the kitchen trash because I couldn't find the can by the washer and dryer. Was it hidden? No. My brain simply failed to register what my eyes were seeing.

This isn't to say that I'm completely capable of detailed work. I'm actually pretty good with data entry, mathematics, and fine stitching like crochet and cross-stitch. but I think my mind wanders whenever I'm doing something repetitive. I suppose I am more of a big picture person. Details escape me for whatever reason, and I really don't know how to change that.

Does anyone else find themselves missing the trees for the forest? Any suggestions on how to train my mind to notice the details that it really needs to? I'd love to hear about it!

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Chocolate Mess

When I made my post about my family Christmas traditions I made the statement that we did not have a traditional dessert. One of my cousins took offense at the statement and reminded me of a dessert that my mom makes almost every year in December: Chocolate Torte.

I'm re-naming it Chocolate Mess. It looks prettier sliced up and arranged on a serving platter. And let me tell you, they are tiny slices. They have to be. The whole cake has a grand total of five cups of sugar. That's right: five. But because of the small slices, this cake would appear at three or four different Christmas parties throughout December.

I'll post the recipe below for those that want to try it once I regain access to it. I would warn you, though, this recipe is for either the incredibly brave, or the incredibly stupid. Personally, I think I fell into the latter category considering the fact that I had a seven-month-old baby to take care of as well as make a time-consuming cake.

I could not find my cake pans when I began this venture. I decided that my loaf pans would do in a pinch. That was my first mistake. You cannot get a spatula down into a loaf pan well enough to loosen the cake layers, so all of those fell apart. I tried pan-frying the batter like a crepe, but couldn't get it quite thin enough, even when I managed not to scorch them.

Fortunately, my mother offered to help me with the cake, so the next day I brought my batter and icing over to her house and she began showing me how she makes this look so easy. It should be noted that my mother made this cake almost every year with no assistance. After my experience, I would recommend that you have two people working on it. It speeds this up and just makes everything go smoother.

There were so many things that she does that are not in the recipe. Like greasing the pans with butter. Granted, I assumed you needed to grease the pans, but Mom has a particular preference for using butter because of the taste. And spreading it with your fingers if you want to be sure that you really got the pan covered. We just used a paper towel with a dab of butter most of the time, though.

The recipe says that it is a twenty-two layer cake. Mine turned out with sixteen layers...I think. If it weren't for the layers that I ruined while attempting to make the cake on my own, I probably would have had twenty or more. Oh well. It still tasted good.

Make the icing in advance. It thickens as you cook it. This is another thing not mentioned in the actual recipe. Also, you will have to wash the pans in between uses. Every. Single. Time. I was actually hoping I could skip that step. No such luck.

But the number one recommendation I would have for anyone that wants to try making this cake for the first time? Find someone that has done it before. Mom finally told me that it took years of making this cake before she had it down to her smooth process. It's worth it, though.

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I Hugged a Stranger

I was hugged today by a stranger today. And I was OK with it. I participated in the hug, even. Bizarre, I know. I'm usually very reserved with strangers, but let me back up.

I was on my way home from the wonderful experience that is Walmart the week before Christmas and I decided to stop by a little health food store that I've noticed. The owner is a lady in her 70s that looks and acts like she's in her 50s. Seriously. I was shocked when she told me how old she was.

What drew me into the store was the advertisement for coffee and tea on the window. I was hoping for a local source for loose-leaf tea that wasn't Lipton. Alas, no such luck, but I did find an hour long conversation that had me leaving feeling better about the world and just generally encouraged.

This is what makes the idea that introverts are shy so ridiculous. I'm not shy. Shy and introverted are not even close to the same thing. I was fascinated by this new person that answered my questions with far more information than most people would desire. I'm not most people, so hearing about the history of homeopathy made me feel almost as excited about a conversation about physics with my dad.

The next thing I knew I was sharing some of my personal beliefs with her, then she's telling me about a motorcycle accident she had had. Somewhere around the point in the conversation where we were discussing church doctrines being Biblically based I started feeling like I wanted to hug her before I left. There was a connection there that I wanted to affirm physically I guess.

I was in a quandary on how to do it, though. I am not naturally touchy-feely with virtual strangers. The lady dispelled the awkwardness I felt when she initiated the hug herself. It was nice, and it seems strange to me now that it did. This is not a normal reaction for me. It felt natural at the time, though, so I feel that it was the right thing.

I doubt this will become a habit, though. It's much easier to just smile at strangers. It's less exhausting, too. As much as I enjoyed our conversation, I needed some down-time to process afterward. So I had some coffee and a book like a good little introvert.


Want to read more about my introverted misadventures?
Check out these posts:

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Talking To Myself
Shhhh...I'm Introverting

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Random Ramblings

I had a nice little blog post typed up last night. Then my phone ate it. I was far too tired to be bothered with trying to remember what I had written to attempt rewriting it…so I went to sleep.

Now I find myself floundering to find a topic to write about tonight. I have yet to reach the point of tired where the weird ideas start appearing, but I wish I was. Or if I were planning to write tonight and edit tomorrow, I'd wish I was. Last time I wrote while super tired with no clear ideas I wound up with magical koi that feed off excess energy. The scary part is that two days later, that actually made sense in my story arc. NaNoWriMo simultaneously brings out the best and the worst about my subconscious.

My apologies if I keep changing verb tense. I should go back and edit, but while I am not yet so funny that everything is tired, I am a bit worn out.

At this point I consider the phrase "brain dump" to describe what I'm currently doing with this blog post. Stream of consciousness might be another description. Except I'm actually bothering to use punctuation.

Welcome to weird me. I use proper capitalization, punctuation, and grammar at all times. Or at least I try to. The occasional snafu does slip past me. But I cannot stand chat speak. If u typ lik ths, or 1f u typ3 u51ng numb3r5 4 l3773r5 nd w0rd5… Seriously, I'm cringing at that right now, contemplating changing it and making it right. 

OCD. Honestly, I know people who have it far worse than I do. I've just arranged my bookshelf by author and title. I've only contemplated looking up the Dewey Decimal system for my non-fiction books to designate their order on the shelf. I haven't actually done it. At this point I doubt I ever will. Babies keep you busy. 

I think that is quite enough rambling for tonight. Hopefully tomorrow I will come up with something a bit more coherent. I will satisfy myself by leaving the gentle reminder that the point of this blog was to keep writing every day. And I have. Even yesterday, when my phone ate my blog post. 

NaNo is over. Now what?

December is upon us. Once again I find myself wondering where the year went...and why I'm not more excited about Christmas. Seriously, have I grown up that much? November went by much too quickly, but that I understand. I was busy during November. Writing.

Yeah, I was one of those crazies that attempted NaNoWriMo. Short for National Novel Writing Month for those that don't know. It's a challenge...emphasis on challenge...to write a 50,000+ word work of fiction during the thirty days of November. I actually finished a day early. Yay me!

What will I do with my rough draft? I'm sitting on it for the month of December. Not literally sitting, it's on my laptop, and I have it on good authority that sitting on my precious computer would be hazardous for its health.

I have yet to decide if I will do revisions in January or not. It's chronologically the first of four stories, but it might make a bit more sense to go ahead and write the next two rough drafts at least so that I have a cohesive whole. I've asked my brain why it can't come up with anything simple, but I didn't understand the answer.

So...since I decided that writing is fun, and a good habit for me to have, I thought, "Why not start a blog?" I've done the journal thing off and on since I was a kid, and I always worry that someone will find it and read what I've written. Solution: post it for the world to see as a reminder not to write anything I wouldn't want to be read.

I make no promises to be interesting. I think I'm interesting, but that's good since I have to live with my own thoughts day in and day out. It's a useful exercise to empty some of those random thoughts. Somehow they don't feel the same if I've got them on paper--or computer screen. Will I do NaNoWriMo next year? Who knows? I'll probably always have a story to tell.


Want to read more about my 2014 NaNoWriMo project?
NaNoWriMo Editing Plans
Did I Write Feminist Literature?
What I Did To Silence My Inner Editor

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