Right then, enough with the bitchy-bitchy, I just re-started blogging and so far it's all gloom and doom. I used to have a blog, by the same name, but after Drew was born I kind of felt devoid of creativity for about a year and I let it lapse. I'm in a better mood. By sheer force of will. Oh, and reminding myself that I have a wonderful, loving husband, an adorable if precocious baby boy, a strong roof over my head, a steady stream of money coming in, and a bright future. I needed a kick in the mental butt. Butt head. Whatever. I'm venturing into Seattle on Wednesday for a Thai massage. I'm pretty apprehensive, my friend Maggie recommended this practitioner, Ms. Lek, and said that her experience was phenomenal. She said she cried through about 90% of the experience, both from discomfort and from release. I could use a little release.
I'm tired of doing nothing. My husband and/or child have been sick for a week and we've done little but sit around the house. Mike says "You can go do whatever you want -- I'll take care of Drew." But that's now how I want to spend Mike's time off. I'd like to spend it with my family, doing fun things and enjoying the holidays by taking advantage of all the festivals and special events that come this time of year. Unfortunately, my husband isn't of the same mind, and so we are at impasse. And I'm grumpy. We're heading to my parents' house for Christmas, we'll leave Saturday and come home Thursday. Our big family Christmas party is Saturday evening, and I'm hosting a get-together for some high school friends at my parents' place on Sunday. I'm looking forward to it; something has to shake this holiday funk I'm in.
I got a flat tire yesterday. Completely my fault, too. I was trying to run errands and was getting thwarted (darn liquor store closed on Sunday) so I decided to go to Value Village instead since I had an hour or so to myself before I wanted to be home to watch hockey with Mike. So, I flipped a u-turn and went up on the curb in the process. Pop! Luckily I was less than a mile from home, and pulled into a church parking lot (the one where we attend MOPS, incidentally). I am quite adept at changing tires, but didn't get the chance to do so since the spare was completely flat. Since Mike was stuck at home with a sleeping kiddo and neither of the friends I called answered their phones, I decided to hoof it down the street to the gas station. When I got there, surprise, the air machine was out of order! Back to the car, tossed the spare in the back, walked home. Grumpy and teary and cold, uphill the whole damn way. At least I got a little exercise out of it, hey?
I spent some time in Seattle yesterday; I rarely go into the city, it's just too much of a pain in the ass with a three year old in tow, but this weekend was the Urban Craft Uprising show at Seattle Center so I left my boys in suburbia and traveled south. I've never felt completely at ease in the crafting world. I am confident in my ability and my products, but I feel self-conscious around the hip, edgy artists that inhabit the handmade world as I know it. I'm a suburban mom, so far away from hip it's ridiculous. I don't own a cool thrifted peacoat. My shirts don't have ironic witticisms emblazoned across them. I don't think I own one piece of clothing that has a skull on it. Know what I mean? You'd think that by the time I hit my mid-thirties all this insecurity shit would be a thing of the past. Unfortunately, every time I go to Seattle and mingle among the hipsters I die a little inside. I guess I feel like I missed my chance to be cool.