Cheering the Hell Up™

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 21: All surface roads lead to Rome

Texas highway Every two weeks or so, I head out to Encino to visit my shrink. She's far away, but since it's even harder to find a good shrink than a good boyfriend, I make the trip.

This entails two of my least favorite things: (1) driving and (2) driving on the freeway.

I can see how it used to be fun driving on the freeways, back when they were new and dinosaurs roamed the earth. But today's freeways are hellish, overcrowded funnels of death, populated by angry, angry people hellbent on GETTING. THERE. NOW. Don't believe me? You probably live somewhere like Manhattan, where cars are recognized as the superfluous nonsense they should be everyhwere.

Getting there is the lesser of two evils. I try to time it so I haven't driven that much during the day. This way, I'm fresh for my freeway trip. Also, I'm usually kind of wound up on my way to therapy. After all, I'm in therapy; if I wasn't wound up, I'd be blissing out in my apartment.

Finally, and this is key, going south to north, you're going against traffic. Always. I know, it doesn't make sense. And on the 405, the north/south freeway that runs up the coast of the L.A. metro area, this rule doesn't apply. But on the 101, it is always worse going from north to south.

So I go south to north in my Speed Racer Bullet from Hell to see my shrink. We spend our 50 minutes together. Sometimes there's a little crying; sometimes not. But generally, I leave more relaxed than I came. Things have sorted themselves out, I've been told I'm not crazy (adult children of alcoholics are constantly checking) and I go on my merry way.

Only I found things weren't so merry when I had to get on the freeway and head south. In fact, they had usually grown exponentially less merry in the hour since I'd been there last. Which is a total bliss buzzkill. So one day, I just didn't get on the freeway: I kept going and took a surface road.

Now, there's another surface road that runs parallel to the 101/Ventura Freeway called Ventura Boulevard. If you saw American Graffiti, it's that street. Only now, it's crowded all the time, too. But this other surface road, the farther-away one, well, there are parts of it you could shoot a cannon down and not hit...too many people. And so I took this road, which led to another road, which got me home feeling relaxed, refreshed and only marginally more crazy than when I'd left the shrink.

I bring it up, this mundane thing of driving, not to say how clever I am but to say how easy it is to fall into a rut with one's thinkings and doings. That road had always been there; it's in plain sight of the turnoff to the freeway. But for five years, it never occurred to me that going a little farther might get me where I wanted to go more quickly, more easily and more comfortably than the regular way. Yet it does all of those things, plus (let's face it) kept me more alert on the way than just traveling on autopilot.

That's what I've tried to make these last three weeks about: looking at things differently, to see if maybe there isn't a different way, better and faster, or maybe better and slower. I'm a creature of habit, I know, but my fear of change manifests itself in so many weird ways, it's constantly startling me.

I think the lesson of these past three weeks is that it's as easy to change a habit as it is to fall into one. If I think about it, giving up exercising or eating right or whatever else probably takes three weeks, too; it's just less noticeable since the downhill changes seem to require less effort than the uphill ones.

So I will blog. Maybe jog. (Will I do it on a log? Will I do it in a bog?) The work will never be done, and I'm maybe getting a little okay with that. Maybe not. There's always a chance to change it up tomorrow.

Or, if I turn left, right now...

xxx c

Photo by CoreBurn via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 20: Perspective

perspective This was supposed to be a post about stolen kisses and how much better they can make us feel than the regularly available kind. As usual, it was compelling, beautifully written, and of the utmost importance to humanity.

Until I tried to save it and found that my host's servers were down.


And I hadn't saved my brilliant musings in a text file.


And, because I've been a little scared/lonely/whatever the past couple of days (not enough kisses?), I took it in the kind of stride you'd expect: I broke down in tears of frustration.

Then I went off to make myself some yogurt. And coffee. And eggs.

And somewhere during my kitchen putterings or the long walk back to my desk, it occurred to me how unbelievably lucky I was to be in my apartment on a Thursday morning at 11am, making coffee and eggs and yogurt. That if the worst thing to happen to me today was lousy hosting service, not only was that not too bad, but that I had control over how bad I felt it to be.

So I sat down with my coffee and eggs and wrote about this, instead.

How does that make me feel?

Even better than stolen kisses.

But I'm backing this up in a text file, just in case...

xxx c

Photo by S@Z via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 19: Clean your sink, change your view

kitchensink Maybe you're bored. Maybe you're uninspired. Maybe you have Crohn's disease and you've gone too long between infusions of chopped liver and you've let your iron count dip too low.

Whatever your reason, when you find yourself, there is a (relatively) quick, cheap and easy way to fix it:

Do the dishes. All of them. By hand. Then scrub out the sink. Rinse. Repeat as necessary.

Yes, Colleen of the Past has already talked about this. (See item #47, or just go directly to, she knows what's what.)

Colleen of the Present, however, constantly needs reminding of how simply one can change direction...

xxx c

Photo by chacabuco via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 18: Laundry Day!

laundry Once a week I get to pretend I'm a guest at the Four Seasons where they give you nice, clean, soft sheets freshly-laundered, every day.

Every Tuesday (or Wednesday/Thursday/Friday/Monday, depending) I get to corral all of those musty towels and stinky socks and jeans that could walk themselves to the hamper and with soap and quarters and mechano-magic turn them into puffballs of clean-smelling goodness so that every Wednesday (or Thursday/Friday/Monday/Tuesday, depending) I feel better reaching for a kitchen towel I feel happier slipping on my favorite pair of underwear I feel rich surveying the multiplicity of choice that is my t-shirt drawer.

But the best thing of all about Laundry Day is Laundry Night when, after a long, hot bath or a long, hot shower (depending), I turn off the lights and turn on the ceiling fan and crawl into a bed fitted with clean, soft sheets just like you get at the Four Seasons.

Some people might think it's better at a hotel when someone else does the washing and the folding and the making of the bed.

I say it's probably better to do it yourself.

You appreciate that bed more when you're pretending to be a Four Seasons maid than a Four Seasons guest.

Most of the time, anyway...

xxx c

Photo by Sir Mildred Pierce via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 16: Peace & quiet is the flip side of childlessness

solitude A former partner used to hammer me on the subject of children and the importance of family with the warning that if I chose not to have the former and spend a lot of time with the latter, I would end up alone, and, by extension, miserable.

While the game is (I hope) far from over, I'm fairly sure he was wrong. There is something to be said for blood being thicker than water, but spending a shitload of Sundays splashing around in the gene pool ain't necessarily the answer to the question of happiness; spending time and effort building relationships built upon a foundation of truth and mutual respect probably is. I live a life resplendent with love, friendship and joy thanks to the many who sign on every day with their heads and hearts, regardless of shared DNA.

Don't get me wrong: I have nothing against children and family; they're just not top priorities for me. Or, if you like, I'm not judging, "I'm just sayin'," as the kids say*.

What has always been top priority for me is seeking truth. For whatever reason, I need copious amounts of alone time to do it, so spawning and/or adopting would be irresponsible. My only regret is that it took me so long to see this and put a name to it. I caused a lot of people unnecessary pain because I was such a clueless doofus. If any of you are reading this now, I apologize.

My wish for everyone is to find the thing that truly makes you tick and run with it. Reorganize your life around it. Make no apologies for it. Make no excuses for staying away from it.

But along with it, consider cultivating an understanding and appreciation for the choices you didn't make, and some understanding for the people who did. If you have questions about how they live their lives, perhaps mull them over to yourself before shouting about it from the rooftops or your AM radio show.

Some of us really need the peace and quiet...

xxx c

*Although having seen the impact of high population on our tiny earth, I'd feel better if some people weren't reproducing with such zeal.

Photo by rbaez via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 15: Sticking a Fork in It

hopeful flower Things you never thought you'd be saying:

The terms of the settlement prevent me from discussing specifics of the case, but the hell is finally over.

Things you have longed to say:

The hell is finally over. Let the grieving begin...

xxx c

Photo by douglucymills via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 14a: Special Numerical Bonus Edition! or "Reasons to Be Cheerful, Day 14"

numbers 1. 6 / 6 / (0)6 passed without incident!

2. Failure to wake up at prescribed hour of 7:30 made for exciting dash to first real estate appointment.

3. Airline moving my flight to a new gate with no electrical outlets in a concourse that was a 10-minute walk away on top of the 10-minute walk I'd just taken to change planes after I'd just plunked down $6.95 for WiFi creates great fodder for righteously indignant letter to the company.

4. Limit of two carry-on items made for even weight distribution on long walk.

5. Density and high poundage of aforementioned carry-on items made for excellent cardiovascular workout and strength training.

6. 6 / 6 / (0)6 passed without incident!

7. Approximate number of feet between me and Typhoid Mary on the flight from Chicago to LAX, whose key positioning offers spectacular real-life test of my seemingly robust health.

8. Number of dead mammals my rental car ran over on the drive from Bloomington to Indianapolis, whose key positioning filled me with gratitude for largish frontal lobe.

9. Number that all houses for sale and items at Wal-Mart end in.

10. 6 / 6 / (0)6 passed without incident!

xxx c

Photo by Mountainbread via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 14: Live! From L.A.! It's Bloggity Night!

Subject Line Here Possibly the only thing I like better than talking to people is talking to people who are whooping it up for a good cause.

Shane Nickerson has put together a kickass lineup of L.A. bloggers reading favorite pieces from their own blogs. They are:

• Paul Davidson • AJ Gentile • Carly Milne • Shane Nickerson • Annie Sertich • Jessica Mae Stover • Colleen Wainwright • Wil Wheaton

And, in case the gloriously beautiful image above isn't displaying, details are:

SUBJECT LINE HERE 8 Bloggers Sound Off on Just About Everything Friday, June 16 // 7:30pm at ImprovOlympic 6366 Hollywood Blvd (b/w Vine & Cahuenga) $15 (benefits Leukemia/Lymphoma Society)

I'm not sure yet how reservations are being handled, and I know IO is 21+ because they serve booze. But it should be a fun evening with lotsa laffs, and THAT'S the way to cheer yourself up!

xxx c

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 13: Stuff I have learned on my trip to the Midwest

indy house 1. There is a reason people are bigger here and it is called "potatoes".

2. Anyone who doubts the multiculturalism and quick wit of small town America has not worn pigtails, walked down a main street and had two brothers in a bright yellow TransAm yell "Pippi Longstocking!" at her out the window.

3. One-way streets may be the greatest traffic flow control device since the stoplight.

4. There are still places that exist where a house costing $200,000 is considered overpriced.

5. Even when the house is really nice.

6. And doesn't have wheels.

7. If you troll the unfamiliar neighborhoods of a small town in a rental car at slow speeds, prepare to be scrutinized with an intensity that big city liquor store owners can only begin to approximate.

8. If you troll the sidewalks of a college town and are over the age of 25, prepare to feel more invisible than a straight woman at the Gold's Gym in Hollywood.

9. When visiting land-locked states and given a choice between the fish or the beef, pick the beef. Seriously.

10. You can take the smartass out of the city, but you can't take the smartass out of the smartass...

Photo of an actual house that costs $200,000, including the parcel of land equal in size that abuts it.

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 12: Abundant abundance

hang in there There's good stuff all around if you look for it.

There's rotten stuff all around if you look for it.

If you get enough rest, eat properly (which includes an occasional indulgence), commune a bit with nature here and there, watch your pace (which includes some occasional type-A behavior), love yourself up good and surround yourself with fine people, you have a better chance of seeing the good stuff.

If you deprive your body and soul of the things it needs, you're more likely to take a ride on the RottenCoasterâ„¢.

Right now, there is so much good around me, it's almost overwhelming. Scratch that, it is a bit overwhelming. So I'm taking a few days to pause and reflect and catch up with some of this amazingness the universe has been hurling my way lately. To play catch with the universe, I guess.

I'd better get me a big mitt on the way to the airport...

xxx c

P.S. The universe wants to play ball this weekend in a field with slightly less dependable internet connection; I'll keep you posted where I can...

Image ©2006 ::enrapture::, via Flickr

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 11: Iced tea, hold the sugar

iced tea

Iced tea has always my summer drink of choice.

And since I've been on the Specific Carbohydrate Diet, plain, brewed iced tea sans sugar is the order of the season.

And it gets a little...well, old after awhile. You can mix it up with plain, brewed peppermint tea (the other allowable tea on SCD), but sometimes, you want a little caffeine with your flava.

So how stoked was I when I went to my friend Richard's house and he poured me a long, tall glass of delicious with NO sugar and TONS of flavor:

Iced Green & Grey Tea Chez Waterhouse

Bring a kettle (or 1 quart) of water to a boil.

Pour over 3 bags green tea and 2 bags Earl Grey* tea in a Pyrex or other heat-proof pitcher.

Let steep until cool. Discard bags (squeeze 'em first). Pour tea in 2 quart pitcher and fill with cool water.



*Earl Grey tea is not strictly SCD-legal. I make sure to use a brand that contains actual oil of bergamot, not "flavor", which is the catchall through which illegals often slip through. SCD followers should not drink this unless they substitute black or peppermint teas for the Earl Grey.

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 10: It takes a village to brand a communicatrix

beaneyeslogo Spend ten years writing ads and another ten acting in them and you get very, very good at marketing...


Proof? When I started my little sideline graphic design business, I had the genius idea to name it "BeanEyes Communications", impossible for people to fathom, vaguely embarrassing when they did.

That's only the most obviously idiotic mistake I've made on my road to Financial Solvency Outside Of Acting. I've also isolated myself, underpriced myself and been generally clueless about promotion, position, networking and a host of other really useful aspects of marketing.

But I'm learning. With the help of a number of smart people, including The BF, several hotshot designers and my terrific marketing mentor, I'm overcoming my terminal cleverness and might actually have a viable business one of these days.

So RIP, BeanEyes. Long live communicatrix!

Oh, and happy June...

xxx c

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 08: Searches, We Get Searchesâ„¢

searchesIt has been a long time, my babies. What can I say, except perhaps that absence makes the font grow harder... home made lemonade stool softener (Google)

Just in time for summer BBQ fun!

.is there a patron saint for people of diets (MSN)

Um...Catherine of Bologna? No, wait, Jesus McChrist? No, no, I got it: Benignus of Dijon!

creamy snatch presents big gun (Google)

And people say the club scene has gotten tired...

flickr snatch shots (

I never get invited to join the good groups.

mercedes mccambridge techno (Google)

Enh. I liked the Joan Crawford remix better.

go take a long walk off a short pier (Google)

But don't forget to leave a comment before you go!

xxx spinach movie (MSN)

I'm comin' Olive...oh, I yam...I yaaaaam...

homemade pussy jello (Google)

Talk about not wanting to take the factory tour.

fantastic very sexy girl (MSN)

Uh-oh! Now are the foxes!

christians with ulcerative colitis (Technorati)

Jesus loves me/This I know/'Cause my colon/Tells me so...

xxx c

P.S. I will be Cheering the Hell Up offline until Tuesday, May 30th. Have a great holiday weekend, and LET'S BE CAREFUL OUT THERE!!!

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 07: Why I love Global Warming

inconvenient poster 1. Longer BBQ season.

2. Incessant worry over impending doom excellent for weight maintenance.

3. Oceanfront property in Stockton!

4. Hurricane/tornado/storm coverage makes good swirly patterns on Doppler Radarâ„¢.

5. Heavy winter clothes aggravate delicate Celtic skin.

6. Disproportionately large feet look better in flip-flops.

7. Warmer weather = more cool summer salads.

8. Costs less to heat spa.

9. Costs nothing to heat swimming pool.

10. Turns earnest, dull politicians into superhot slideshow presenters*.

xxx c

*Go see An Inconvenient Truth. If you live in NYC or LA, go THIS WEEKEND!!! It's moving, it's gorgeous, it will make you feel like you're a part of something bigger. Which you are, by the way, in case you didn't know...

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 06: Coffee and Tuna Nicoise!

tuna Sometimes you eat the bear; sometimes you meet him at Starbucks and you both get to eat (or at least have a beverage).

Yes, the communicatrix finally met internet giant Citizen of the Month, the one, the only Neilochka! For me, it harkened back ye old days of online dating, only we are both involved with other people and this wasn't a date. But the strange, I-sort-of-know-you-but-I-sort-of-don't feeling was the same.

Given that we're both enormous dorks, you'd think we'd talk about...oh, I don't know, dorky stuff, and maybe gossip about our readers (okay, his, since there are only five of you here and that's hardly enough for a conversation). But mainly, we ended up talking about food, my wacko diet, the delicious rolls at a particular bakery in the Farmer's Market that Neilochka had arrived early to consume so as not to torture me, why factory farming is evil.

We also talked about cooking and learning how to eat properly which, unless you're a ga-jillionaire, involves cooking. Being a straight man, Neilochka never learned to cook; being a man-like straight woman whose mother hated cooking, neither did the communicatrix, at least, not until she was 31, jobless and married to a different straight man who also didn't know how to cook.

Sadly, I can't really teach anyone how to cook; all I can do is make lame-ish suggestions based on my own experience. And in my experience, it's helpful to start out with a few VERY simple recipes (i.e., not stuff from The Silver Palate) and branch out from there as you gain confidence with handling food and understanding which flavors go well together.

Today's non-lession was inspired by the tube of anchovy paste I picked up at the French grocery store in the Farmer's Market. Generally, anchovies, sliced, dressed fishies, are a component of a delicious French salad, Nicoise (which just means "in the style of Nice", which is where there are a lot of goddam fish). For most of us, anchovies are just a punchline involving pizza and truly, truly disgusting, but they do have a nice, salty, robust flavor that adds a certain I-don't-know-what (translation: je ne sais quoi) to a dish. And anchovy paste, which removes all recognizable traces of the fish it came from except for the picture on the box, is a great way to add zip without triggering the gag reflex.

Nicoise also usually involves boiled and cooled, skinned (or not) red potatoes. These are not SCD-legal so I skip them now, but if you like, go ahead and boil yourself a batch of the baby ones (they scream as you drop them in the water) and halve or quarter them to add once cooled.

SALAD NICOISE (adapted for the Specific Carbohydrate Diet)

1 can water-packed, solid albacore tuna 2 hard-boiled eggs 2 cups haricot verts* 2 tablespoons capers 10-15 Kalamata olives (optional) 10-15 cherry tomatoes (optional) 2 cups lettuce, washed and torn up (I like spicy mixed baby greens)


3 tablespoons olive oil 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard 1/4" squirt anchovy paste (totally optional)

Steam the haricots verts in a little water on the stove until just tender-crisp (not wiggly!) and let cool.

While the beans are cooling, chop the eggs into 1/2" sized pieces. (Don't worry, they don't need to be perfect.) Drain the tuna well. If you're using them, pit and cut the olives into quarters and halve the cherry tomatoes.

Arrange the lettuce in a wide, shallow bowl or on individual plates (this recipe makes about two servings for piggy me). Layer the cooled beans on top of the lettuce, then flake the tuna from the can with a fork on top of the beans. Strew the chopped egg and capers and olive pieces on top of the tuna, in that order (looks best!). Arrange the cherry tomatoes on the side of the dish.

Whisk the dressing ingredients together in a little bowl with a fork. Pour the dressing on the salad and eat!

See, Neilochka? Even you could make this delicious, healthy salad as easy as un, deux, trois!

xxx c

*long, skinny, French green beans. Trader Joe's sells them bagged and frozen; you can find them fresh at some markets. You could substitute regular green beans in a pinch, but the haricots verts are soooooo much better you shouldn't judge the recipe till you've tried them.

Photo by bzibble via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 05: Complete one incomplete task, however imperfectly

pixframe I have a series of frames in my bathroom. One holds a picture of a glass half-full, a cover from the New Yorker on my mother's birthday the year after she died. Most of the rest of the frames are empty, or hold the "For Display Only" shots of nameless brides and sunlit couples and price tags, not because I am lonely and friendless, but because I was always waiting to find the perfect item to place within them.

Similarly, I had long been in possession of a striking, horizontal frame filled with black-and-white shots of attractive people from the 1940's and 1950's. For at least six years, it has stood propped up against various walls. I almost consigned it to the Goodwill pile a few times but something stopped me: mainly the fact that I am a congenital pack rat, but also the charm of this frame, which I just knew would look perfect when it finally displayed the exact perfect black-and-white shots of my own attractive family members from the 1940's and 1950's.

Then two weeks ago, crisis struck in the form of a video shoot at my apartment. My office area, one of the "locations", was looking very dingy and cluttered and needed some set dressing triage, stat. I cleared a few postcards off of the wall and, on a whim, laid them out on the frame. Not bad, they were sweet, childlike illustrations of animals and worked together thematically. But there were two spaces left.

Over and over in my life, it seems that the right thing will fall in my lap when I least expect it, but only when I am ready for it. Sometimes my guard is down or my spirits are high (same thing, really) and I let that sucker waltz right in; sometimes I have an agenda and the thing couldn't penetrate my well-intentioned defenses with a battering ram.

On this particular day, I was preoccupied enough with my task to get out of my own way. And as my eyes swept the imperfect wall, they lit upon my beautiful calendar by Nikki McClure. I remembered that I'd saved an old one, loving her perfectly imperfect woodcuts too much to dispose of it along with the year (and, yes, being a pack rat).

Sure enough, there were two months with animal scenes which, with a little (gasp) hacking away at their structural integrity, would fit...perfectly.

I've been enjoying the feeling of flow more and more in my life, so much so that I now look both for ways that I might be stopping it and ways of letting more of it in. For me, a huge part of getting with the program is patience, and learning to live in process. But I'm realizing now that a perhaps huger part is letting go of some ideal of perfection. Because some really great things can happen when I'm not busy steering my boat towards the mist-enshrouded, golden shores of the Isle of Perfection. And when I let things just "happen", they tend to unfold in a way that I'd describe as...

Well, perfect.

xxx c

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 04: Making Breaking Up Less Hard To Do

mourning First off, for you alarmists out there: no, nothing's wrong in Paradise. The BF and I are still happily "The BF and I."

But I recently made a new friend who recently broke it off with a boyfriend and it got me to thinking about my own past breakups, oft necessary parts of Getting To Happy, but not always fun in their own right.

No advice is one-size-fits-all, so consider everything I'm going to say like a pile of stuff at an outdoor flea market that you can either pick through lazily out of interest or ignore wholesale for the smelly, superfluous pile of ca-ca it is.

Also, this advice is mainly for chicks because, despite all of my efforts to be very manly, I am a chick. If you're a dude...well, maybe #3 & #4 cross the gender line, but basically, I don't know. The best advice I can give is go seek out some dude advice. (Do dudes even give advice?)

For you ladies, read on...

1. Do more hanging out with women right now. GREAT women, who inspire you. Not "girls." And especially not catty girls. It is also fine to hang out with gay male friends who love you and will tell you how gorgeous/fabulous you are. It is even fine if they are catty, as long as it's about the right stuff and makes you laugh.

2. Avoid like the plague anything that makes you feel old/ugly/loser-esque/etc. For me, this means all women's magazines and other lifestyle porn (except maybe JANE and Oprah's magazine) and supertrendy L.A. hangout spots. It is also very good to avoid people who are at all unsupportive or even just well-meaning but have their heads up their asses. Keep your force field as clear as you can of human detritus.

3. Ditto news of anything that makes you feel depressed. This includes "important" but devastating coverage of Darfur, chimpy, peak oil, etc. Quickly skim headlines to make sure the world isn't coming to an end today, then move on.

4. Do lots more of what is unusual and fun for you, provided it is of a creative and inspiring and active nature, and not a passive, consumer nature. Consider spending less time (and money) at the store and more at sites like Inspire Me Thursday and 52 Projects. Be with friends (the good ones, the positive ones) but do as much of it alone as you can. Let yourself rock out aloud with the joy of it all.

5. If you haven't yet, consider reading He's Just Not That Into You. Yeah, it's annoying and cheesy and embarrassing for a variety of reasons, most unintentional. But you don't have to buy it; you can read it in about a half-hour standing up in the aisle at the bookstore (after my last breakup, I read it in a Borders I don't usually frequent because I am a gigantic pussy). And like it or not, it distills the truth about women taking crap off of men like nothing I've ever read.

Of course, nothing heals like time. But a bit of awareness during the healing time might prevent future repeats. Sticking your head into a tub of ice cream feels good in the moment, but doesn't do much to evolve you from emotional knuckle-dragging.

Besides, ice cream is off-limits if you're SCD...

xxx c

Image by scottwills via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 03: A cup of tea, a gallon of paint and thou

just painted Some people like brunch of a Sunday. Some people like trips to the park or the beach or someone else's backyard, for a barbeque.

For me, Sunday is best started with tea, followed by a leisurely perusal of a fatty paper, some breakfast à deux, and maybe a bit of a project.

Today's project is Part 2 of painting the decades-old linen closet of My Country House (a.k.a. The BF's), but it could just as well be raking leaves or cleaning out the garage or weeding out my closet to continue participation in the you-to-Goodwill-to-me-to-Goodwill-to-you cycle.

Some rest, some work and, if we are very, very lucky, a great love to do it with...

xxx c

Photo by Corydora via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license

Cheering the Hell Up, Day 02: Better Living Through Bad Laundry

green grass feet When I bought this rug a couple of years ago it was barely off-white and stepping onto it was like warming your feet in the soft, soft wool of sleepy baby sheep.

When I washed it for the first time the colors from the old kitchen rugs I washed it with seeped into it, dyeing it a tea-like color that made me sad until I realized it now matched the color of my towels perfectly and still felt soft soft soft under my tired feet. (What we call a "bonus extra".)

But yesterday I washed it with my new kitchen rugs whose color seeped into it dyeing it a weird, mossy color of green which (quite frankly) looked pretty bilious, at least it did in the laundry room.

Still I dragged it upstairs for one last tromp because even if it was green it was still soft as sleepy baby sheep and you can always close your eyes... right? But to my great surprise with my faded, tea-like towels against my brightly painted toenails it looked...nice.

Really nice.

And it felt like standing in the woods only quieter and softer (and with more reliable running water). So now everytime I go to the bathroom it's like a little trip to a faraway, fairy tale garden where the colors and the textures are just a little bit softer.

Which I guess makes the moral a two-parter:

Keep your eyes open and don't worry if you suck at laundry.

xxx c