I’ve been trying to dance in the mud, all day. Things that should have been easy, quick, or done weren’t. I had to push, be there, focus my wavy energy on target like a laser to make anything happen. As soon as I’d get fine some focus, somebody would come over and slap it right out of my hands like I’d just picked up a poison apple.

It’s okay. But I have so much I need to, want to do–and well. I mean, I don’t just wanna half-ass anything. I’d like to be many things, but mediocre isn’t one of them.

So I’ll just keep dancing, I guess. Just because it’s slower than I’d like it to be doesn’t mean it can’t still be beautiful.

Vega woke us crying last night, unable to move his back legs. I laid next to him on the floor and comforted him until he quit crying. This morning, I took him to the vet. He was diagnosed with straddle thrombosis and the vet recommended putting him to sleep because of the extremely poor prognosis and painfulness of the condition. We did.  He was 7 years old.

He was the sweetest kitty in the world, and I miss him dearly already. We we very lucky to have him in our lives.

I love you, Vega.

People keep asking me, “How are you and Chip getting along?” They wonder, because he and I are home together all day now, since November.

“I love it!” I tell them–and they always seem kind of surprised at the response.

Being together all day is nothing new to use. Heck–we met at work many years ago. We drove to work together,  sometimes worked together (sat side by side), ate lunch together, came home together, and spent the evening together. This is how it was from the beginning.

We didn’t always get to work together, through the whole 20 years, of course. But I missed that. I missed it a lot.

He helps me think things through and listens to me. He makes me laugh; he looks out for me; he calms me; he entertains me; he loves me. He’s my husband and my best friend. I appreciate every minute I get to spend accessing his energy.

I don’t know how long things will be the way they are right now. Like every bit of your life, it’s a snapshot in time. But I’m cherishing it while I’ve got it.

New Year’s, I generally eschew resolutions. There’s so often more an excuse to pretend we can solve every problem we have in two and half weeks, or maybe just another opportunity to feel bad about ourselves. It’s usually a better idea to make changes day-to-day, as you see the need. While there’s perhaps some value in the ritualization or symbolic significance of new year/new you thing, still… We’re usually not reasonable or kind with ourselves that way.

But this year, I did make a resolution: I am getting rid of all the holey socks.

I’m pretty frugal. Maybe from growing up in a family that sometimes had little, lean times raising kids in our 20’s, or just a practical nature, I don’t know. But I have socks. With holes. Too many. And when I run across one of these holey socks, what had I traditionally done?

Why, wear them, of course! Sometimes two pair, or teamed up with some slippers, to make up for the holes. And afterward? I take them off and put them in the laundry and wash the damn things again. And each time I end up with one of ‘em after a sock search, I am surprised and disappointed all over again. But I put them on anyway.

It’s as if I somehow expect the socks to magically heal in the drawer. I try to avoid it, ignore it, put it off and forget about it instead of just throwing the stupid socks out.

Uh oh. How many times do I avoid, ignore, cobble up or otherwise deny what is not working in my life? Because it’s easier “not to think about that right now?”

I’m done putting on holey socks. When I notice anything in my life isn’t serving it’s function, when I see something isn’t working with my life, it’s done.

That’s hard sometimes. Sometimes your favorite socks wear out. Sometimes, it’s just time to change socks. You outgrow the old ones, and they don’t fit anymore. You may still have an emotional attachment, but it doesn’t change the facts, man.

I’m a huge believer in the power of gratitude. Acknowledging what you have, living in a mentally prosperous space–not always easy, mind you!–and being grateful for the essence of your dreams in your life, even if the physical form hasn’t fully manifested.

If I’m honest with myself, I can readily see that the life I am living right this moment isn’t that far off from the life of my dreams.

I work for myself, so I can choose who I want to work with, and whom I do not. I set my own schedule and priorities. My husband is currently home with me all day, which I love. I have my furry kitty friends visit my lap off and on throughout the day. I have great friends and loving family. I’m in good health and am a very happy person. I feel valued and appreciated by the people in my life. All in all, it’s a pretty damn good life, full of comfort and love and so much I value.

Yes, there are things/situations I’d like to change. I’d like my own home, with more privacy, a more breathtaking view, and a place to grow vegetables and flowers. Oh yeah–and a whirlpool bathtub! I’d like more cash in the bank, even more freedom in my work life–ultimately, I’d like to only do work because I want to do the work, and not out of a sense of needing to do the work–but considering where I am, I have elements of all my wishes already resident in my daily life.

Sure, I’ve still got mountains to climb (and to enjoy the view). But the essence of my hopes, wishes and dreams are all there to some degree. I’d be doing the universe a disservice in not acknowledging and appreciating what I do have now. So my goal is to amp it up going forward.  Yes, I have somewhere to grow. But the basic sense of happiness, contentment, love and “enough,” I already have. My dream life isn’t that far off from my today life.

I’m grateful.

Trick Crockpot

Valentine’s Day–I wanted to exchange my crockpot. What an incurable romantic, huh? So we went out to WalMart to trade the broken-lid one I just bought with an intact version in the bizarre snowing/not-snowing weather. We hit up KFC for our meal, inexpensive but still a treat. And we went home to eat and watch some shows and be together.

My husband and I usually have “non-traditional” holidays. That means we pay attention to what we care about, and not what the world says we should care about. We care about each other.

The last couple years, I’ve noticed my husband makes the effort to take me out on Valentine’s Day, so long as I want to go out. This is kind of a big deal for a couple of reasons:

• He would be more than happy to stay home pretty much anytime. He’s kind of that way.
• I don’t have to ask for this, make a big deal of it, or feel like I’m putting him out somehow.
• Even though the places may be overcrowded on holidays like VD, the weather may be messy and the whole deal it can be kind of a pain, he still suggests it. And he means it.

I do like to go out sometimes. While I wouldn’t necessarily ask for dinner out of Valentine’s Day because of the crowds, it’s gratifying to have the official “love” holiday acknowledged by the man I’ve loved and been loved by for so many years. Honestly, it would not be an issue if he didn’t want to go out. I am an adult, and can care for my own social needs. But more than the acknowledgment, more than whatever we do (or don’t do), his intention to please me and do something he knows I like–even when he’s not so into it–means a lot.

Love–on Valentine’s Day or any other–isn’t so much about the grandeur of the gesture. It’s not the flashiness of the gift, the romantic quotient of the evening or the cost of whatever is exchanged that matters. It’s caring about making loved ones happy. For him, it’s taking me out sometimes. For me, it’s being happy staying home sometimes.

People can make it so hard, but it really is much simpler than that. With a new crockpot and a few leftovers from KFC in the fridge, I feel like the most loved woman in the world.

My daughter is a long ways away–and going through some stressful times. Nothing she can’t handle, and nothing that’s not pretty much normal for a kid who’s moved out of the house for the time. The kind of stuff every adult has to deal with at some point or another.

I’m talking to my husband at dinner.

“I know she’s going to be okay, but I hate to see her struggle. When she was at home, I could make things easier for her. I can’t do much for her now. I want to make it go away for her…”

“It builds character,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Who’s? Hers or mine?”

“Both.”

Damnit. He’s right. I can provide advice, support, and a friendly ear, but not much else. I said as much to my daughter in a chat the other night.

“The advice helps, but it’s good for me to be responsible for my own problems,” she tells me. “I’m growing through the experience.”

Damnit. She’s right, too. I want to fix it all for her, make the stress disappear, but I can’t. Just as well, as “taking care of things” is not always the most helpful approach as a parent. But it doesn’t mean the drive is less. I really hate to see her having a rough time of any stripe.

So I settle for what I can do–chats, mom-advice, threats to video-nag her if she doesn’t take her vitamins, pictures and life-around-the-house video to cheer her up (I hope), and a little package mailed here or there. It seems like very little, but I do know little gestures can help support and buoy through a rough patch.

Might as well get used to it. As my husband pointed out, other parental milestones will come to pass. News flash: it ain’t over when they move out!

Like when she has a baby, which probably will happen someday. That will be an “Oh Shit–she’s just a baby and what’s she gonna do with this baby?” moment. Nothing personal to her. That’s just how I imagine it must be as a parent seeing your child cross that bridge into another life phase. She mentioned another one of those moments will be when she gets married. I have no idea what that will feel like, but as pointed out, it’s one of those things–much like moving out for the first time, or having kids–that defies description when you haven’t had the experience.

But still…I don’t think I need all that much character-building by this point. I’m about as big a character as you’re ever going to find…I guess I’ll have to settle for mothering the cats.

I haven’t been happy with how my work’s gone lately. I’ve been trying to blog it out–figure out what the Hell I’m doing wrong, what isn’t working for me to fix it–and mostly find I end up sounding (and feeling) like a big whiny-ass, if you wanna know the truth.

I’m working too much overall and not making enough for it. I am doing lot of production work, and very little working on my business–making it better, offering new products, improving service. This is all stuff I dig–planning, executing, and marketing.  I haven’t had time or energy to learn new skills or follow the trends–all stuff I enjoyed. I’m not so much digging on the pushing pixels, unless the reason why I’m pushing pixels buzzes me. And to be honest, if it’s pushing pixels for somebody else’s project, it usually doesn’t buzz me much anymore.

I get discouraged sometimes. I don’t feel my efforts are valued. People look for me to tell them how to (easily and with no special training) do what I’ve been charging to do for them. Many expect me to be able to explain it in a short email, for Godssakes.¹ They ask questions they (often rightly) assume I can answer much more easily than they can–which is fine–but kind of miss the reason why I can answer them easily is because I have spent many years learning my trade and, uh, well…kinda expect to be paid for my expertise. At least some of the time. Even an offer would be nice.

Now, I don’t expect everyone to get how hard my job is sometimes, or to understand exactly how much I invest  into doing it to the best of my ability. (Hint: It’s a lot.) Part of my job is to make my job look easy–seamless at the other end. Evidently, I’m good at that part. And a lot of it you can’t even see on the outside. But I know it’s there, and the people I work with benefit from my attention to detail, even if they don’t know it.

I’m into service, so I do my best. I hate to be nickel-and-dimed, so I don’t do that to my folks. I answer questions ’til the cows come home and go back out again. I help, share information, give freely of advice and ideas, both because I like to help and also because I believe this is good business. When the freebies become an expectation instead of acknowledged as a gift, however, it doesn’t feel the same.

It’s disheartening. Often the people that are paying the least expect the most from me. After a certain threshold, I just want to snap, “Good luck finding anybody else who will do half as much as I do for ten times the price!” If I find myself feeling resentful, I know I’m doing something wrong. I can get fussy at the person on the other end of the email, but truth is that only I have the ability to change it.

Maybe I need to do a better job of communicating what I really do. Maybe I need to charge more. Maybe I need to block a percentage of time for my business stuff vs. pay-the-bills-production work. Maybe I need to erect better boundaries. Maybe all of these things are erecting better boundaries.

Or maybe I just need to quit whining and get that design finished already. You know…the one with that deadline that I disregarded (as if it were a due date on one of my outgoing invoices)?

[youtube width="580" height="360"]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R2a8TRSgzZY[/youtube]

1. At least it’s been a while since anybody asked me what book they needed to buy to do my job. Now they ask what software to buy instead.

When my daughter moved, she put my husband in charge of watching me. Yeah–watching me. That’s how she said it, too.

“When I’m gone, you’re in charge of watching Mom, Dad. You have to keep her from hurting herself.”

I’m protesting, but I could as well be 4 years old for all the mind being paid. If it wasn’t so funny, I could be offended I’ve just been assigned a babysitter.

He’s listening closely, and solemnly agrees to take on the job. I’m not surprised. I’ve heard them talk about me as if I were a dangerous lunatic before, after all. It’s one of those 60/40 family jokes: 60% true, 40% joke.

What I didn’t expect was him to take it so seriously. Evidently, I need a lot of watching. I have also learned some of this goes on without my knowledge. But some, I definitely notice.

Like the other night…a hunk of dinner is stuck in the garbage disposal. I  get ready to stick my hand down in there to fix it, but  I’m kind of  waiting for hubby to move out line of sight. I know he’s paranoid as all heck, and won’t want to watch me stick my hand in there, even though the thing’s off.

Wait…wait…wait…He doesn’t move.

Hey! He’s standing there to keep me from doing it, damnit!

I pause a minute, feeling completely lost without use of my hands. I start to walk away to figure it out later (or, more likely, come back when he’s not watching)–until he offers an alternative: I can use some tongs to pull out the food. I stumble around for a minute, but it worked.

And this is how it’s been. I think it’s quite silly as he’s overseeing me taking a cup of coffee out of the microwave, but begrudgingly admit he probably had a point about the sticking-a-fork-in-the-plugged-in-toaster thing.

Probably.

An awful lot comes down to perspective.

I’m chatting with my daughter on Facebook; we don’t get to talk every day since she moved cross-country. A reminder came up of the tussle it used to be getting her and her stepsister to go to school.

“I’m so sorry about that, Mom,” she tells me. I assure her I wasn’t traumatized. Then she apologizes for a whole list of other things.

I wasn’t prompting for an apology, and she understood that. Although every kid will present challenges, she was pretty darned easy to raise in the grand scheme of things. I know. I’ve seen less easy.

It’s just that being on her own a month, she’s seeing the world through different eyes. She’s been introduced to some of her own foibles in others, and she’s been in the position of being responsible for a lot more than she was at home. She’s had to take care of business in a way she never has before. It changes things. She respected me before, appreciated both her Dad and I, but it takes on a new depth when faced with the scope. Y’kno?

It moves me–and like everything else about this whole damn empty nest thing, it’s bittersweet. The goal all along has always been to raise an independent adult. But I’m kind of sad I can’t spare her from the stress of growing up, either…