some cuteness.

some days.

some days i have some bpd moments. i find myself with my defenses up, like my brain is telling me "be ready, something bad is coming. you need to protect yourself." it's not like a panic or anxiety attack, it's like i'm on alert for danger. i feel my the expression in my eyes harden, my jaw clench ... like i'm putting on this "don't fuck with me" face -- the expression you wear if you're walking alone at night and you want to look less vulnerable. i know we're all vulnerable in life, all the time, really. i just wish i knew what was triggering this nice little bout of crap.

 

an amazing writer handed me this a long time ago ...

(... and i just came across it. and i love it as much now as i loved it then. )

Two Halves of a One-Winged Bird

her eyes catch fire
the whites ashblack
shadow of magma
to be seen
light-years from
never
the laugh a disguised scream
as she smashes the plates and
glasses with seething glee
against the floor
(in a place far away)
we dance on the pieces
and our socks paint themselves
wine on chin
teeth too big as though they want to
get out and eat the face away around them
red wet kleenex
clotted lines marking time
like in a flesh prison
rubber room
but head a cage
and filled to the edge with echoes
now like prison gates slamming
her eyes shut
she doesn’t know whether she’s
in or out
even in sleep she is alert
though suffocating
dead yet suffering
i touch her with tired guilt
insomniacally
and flee finally into
dreams
she is there, smoldering
and slapping me with invisible objects which
she knows are real and sacred
as scarred words
i believe in her
i know she knows i am
nothing
deep down
and this is to be clung to
she wills herself away
yet in her withered will i am with her
and so we stay instead
and try to extend the
dead night into
ever
always alone with one
another after another
mending
mask-lipped
embedded in our embers
buried in each other like
two tombs
tapping at the fragile indestructible because
invisible
walls of silence
between us>

obsessed with boots.

even though i'm a girl, idon't have piles and piles of shoes. iam a size 11 and that can really fuck with your in-store shoe options, and when ido find shoes, idon't usually have money to toss around. for example, i love these UGG boots:

i also really love these goodies from Torrid:

 

however my true boot love is reserved for these, which i bought years ago at the minot flea market and i wore them until they fell apart and only duct tape held them together.

aren't they lovely? perfect with jeans, perfect with skirts and tights, and i need to find another pair.

this is all very shallow, isn't it? stereotypical girl-wants-shoes thing. i think I've been stressed for a while and maybe there is something to the idea of retail therapy - or even just online browsing. who knows. i know that smoking sounds pretty great (no worries, i'm not starting again) and i suddenly think that living in a shack in the middle of nowhere would be fantastic too (don't worry, i'm not wearing a hoodie or working on a manifesto). i think i'm just ... tired. more on that another time. for now, i seek boots.

Sure, I actually mailed some of these ...

but posting it here is WAY easier.

olive is cute. it's a fact.

i feel like anything i blog about today would be just the usual blah blah blah kind of crap that flows so freely from my brain, so instead i think i'll post a cute picture of olive.

a few weekend pics.

thanks for the awesome fort, Uncle C.!

so, so sleepy post food.

the awesome Abbey.

naptime for kiddies.

sweet Oskar.

Grandma Jen getting love from Olive.

a damn cute video.

confession time:

some days i feel my heart get all weirdy and i then have to spend the next 15 minutes doing breathing that will calm me down. not calm my heart down, bc really that little palipatation lasted about 1 second. nope, just breathing that will calm me down from worry about my heart. which i shouldn't worry so much over.

after brammy died of a heart attack i got increasingly worried about my health, bc even though he had some health issues, he was only 33. every heartburn that seems to come out of nowhere, every skipped beat sends a speed-of-thought message to my brain that signals for my panic to kick in.

also, every so often i get an aura migraine, which is scary and makes me worry i'm having a stroke. which is unlikely, but even just the migraine stuff is hard when you have little ones -- first sign is usually vision issues in one eye to the point where i can't see without having a black spot where one eye is trying to focus. then the dysphasia, which is the inability to speak using the correct words for things. then hand/tongue numbness. and, if you have any history with panic, you know that tingling fingers is a part of panic, which means if i sense a slight tingle, it flags my brain as "PANIC NOW! MIGRAINE ON THE WAY!"

why am i confessing all this? i don't know, i feel like it's some dirty little secret that i'm tired of carrying all on my own (although dustin knows about it) and i'm so fucking tired of being afraid so much. it was really bad when i was at home alone with the little kids more -- it would get so overblown that a slight feeling of dread would balloon into what felt like my arms being on fire - necessitating dustin to come home from work bc i was sure something bad was happening to me and the little ones would be all alone and scared and abandoned.

i've even gotten a fucking SELF-HELP CD that i listen to when i have the slightest sense of anxiety that is unwarranted. (it's from a company in the UK, so they could be reading out of the phonebook but the accent alone seems to help me out.) yep, i'm that person. i've stopped drinking soda with caffeine bc it never fails - i go overboard with it (bc coca-cola is the most awesome-est beverage on the planet) and BOOM -- racing heartbeat. feeling of dread that comes from raching heartbeat, and then my brain can't be stopped.

monday i will be tested for all things allergic and if it's in the clear, my next move will be to buy the biggest bag of cashews EVER. (and, fun fact, cashews can help with anxiety. WIN.)

*update
i just ate a slice of pecan pie because my love of pecan pie, which i have not had in years, outweighed my fear of allergic reaction. i'm pretty sure the fluffy lips feeling i experienced was psychosomatic, but we'll see ... and the fact that i'm not FREAKING out over this shows that blogging about all this crap has helped me a little bit.

**update 2
no unusual allergic reactions. YAY PIE!

***update 3 (just two minutes later than previous update)
my throat feels sore -- not itchy, but like i have a tender throat when i swallow. probably unrelated. STAY TUNED!

****update 4
just heard that allergic reactions can take up to TWO hours to show up. are you fucking kidding me?

Random thought ...

that popped into my head: the art collection at the Minot public library. I have no idea why, but suddenly I was remembering walking through the aisle that displays the collection you can actually rent. then I started thinking about the hours spent using the card catalog to find books, the tapes I'd check out, I can even recall the smell of the place. I've not heard about the damage the library sustained in the flood, but I'm guessing it must've been substantial. I miss that library.
I was sort of planning it to be a crappy, stressful night -- and it mostly wasn't, except that poor Olly had a fever. now sleeping feels like what I really need.

and then there are the days ...

... where if i think too much about certain stuff, i'll just fall apart. blergh.

 

pictures! lots of pictures! and exclamation points!

me and the youngest larson sister.

sweet oskar.

lunch at sammy's pizza - always a win.

us girls.

olive loves grandma jen.

what a face.

sleepy birthday girl.

"olive's birthday, blah blah blah ..."

3 of 4 sisters plus a lil olive.

olive explaining something important to auntie m.

gnome olive!

mmm ... cake.

"i'm one!"

she loves her aunt.

"yayyy!"

Pics o' the weekend

being an alien made her angry.

being a gnome made her angry.

ribbon on a gift from Meg made her happy.

even Spidey has to get groceries.

Fighting crime is hard work and is rewarded with a sucker.

Olive and Dustin. Love.

Halloween night at the community center.

too ... much ... cake ...

yes, there is such a thing. yesterday (and friday and thursday) we've had a lot of bday cake. and cupcakes. and pie. and OHHHHHHHHH i think i was punched in the stomach. owwwww.

*shakes fist in air*

damn you, cake ... DAMN YOU.

*assume fetal position, whimper*

the genius of a mini cupcake

you know, you can eat several before it actually counts as one regular sized cupcake.

 

*The more you know*

 

Olive plays dress-up at daycare

Olive is 1 today!

How in the hell did one year go so quickly? I think from the moment you add an infant to a house that has other kids you move on an almost constant basis. You know how when you're really busy at work and all of a sudden it's the end of the day? Like that.

Plans to celebrate her birthday? Tonight we'll do some dinner, a gift or two and, if time allows, I'll put together a cake and watch the kids spin out on sugar. Saturday we'll have friends over, eat more sweets and she'll have time to hang out with her friends Soren and Lila.

Those cheeks. Those marvelous, soft cheeks of hers. Her crazy long eyelashes, her Dustin-esque stare. Beautiful. And funny, GOD she's funny. She has a monster noise. A growl. It's fantastic. She also has the not-so-lovely habit of screaming when she's pissed, and I'd like to thank Oskar for teaching her that.
 
TIME FOR CAKE. photos to come.

An open letter to cilantro

Dear Cilantro,

You evil, evil thing.

 

You snuck your terrible self into my lunch today and I now have a lingering, cilantro-induced nausea and headache. So in addition to the crappy, soapy taste that now resides in the back of my throat, I feel awful.

 

I saw you there, lurking just on top of the surface of the yummy sauce-based entree at the Indian restaurant. I've become skilled at dodging you and your kind as I dip the naan.

 

I KNOW you wait for that moment that I hastily take a bite of the delicious samosa. I try to overlook you, hoping the cumin and the curry overrules your detergent-laden flavor.

 

You outdid yourself today, Cilantro. Today my head is pounding. My stomach is queasy.

 

I'm afraid I have to put you on lockdown, Cilantro. I can't risk feeling this horrible again, I can't take the chance anymore, I can't put myself out there for you to hurt me ever again. You hurt me more and more each time and it appears I have to avoid things I totally love because you hate me.

 

Fuck you, Cilantro, you dirty, dirty leaf. Fuck you.

 

minot

jeeeeeeeesus.
it's really eerie, driving block after block and seeing gutted, empty houses. and I hated feeling like a gawking tourist, but that didn't stop me from recording a few of the blocks I consider to be part of my old stomping ground... the duplex my family lives in when I was born; a house Stephen, Abbey & I lived in on Normal Street; the Jodadam house, the site of many-a theatre party.

just awful.

Three days of blogging in a row? STOP THE PRESS!

seriously, i'm surprising myself.

i love blogging. love it. why? a chance to spew the crap from my noggin out into the ether, and maybe it'll be read by someone, maybe not, but it's out there, no longer stirring around in my brain, clogging up my thoughts.

i'm beginning to adapt to my new schedule pretty well -- it's definitely nice knowing dustin is on the premises, that takes the "lonely-scared-intimiated" factor out of the new environment. i also have several seeral pics of my awesome family in my cube, so i can stare at the loveliness and feel better about not seeing them all day long.

who want to go out for lunch today? a show of hands, please ...

 

now, WHO'S BUYING? answer me THAT!

 

back to work.