Wordless Wednesdays

Handwriting

One thing that I get complimented on most often: my handwriting.

Probably more unique than aesthetically pleasing or genuinely "good," either way my handwriting seems to draw compliments. It's inconsistent at best, a rolling scrawl most days. It's a combination of old-world cursive and school girl round print. It leans hard to the right and the tails dip far below the the accepted line. One world flows into the next and most letters have more loops than necessary.

I grip my pen between my middle and ring finger, wrapping my thumb tightly around the top--a method my elementary school teachers hated. One even told me I would never learn to write if I continued that way. I guess we have different definitions of "learn to write."

At one point, probably seventh grade, I dotted my i's with a little circle. Now I use no dot at all. I also used to write the letter F backwards; it was some sort of rebellion against the man. In fifth grade, Mrs. Ryburn made me stay in from recess quite often because I needed to work on my penmanship. I traced her words on the blackboard for 20 minutes while my friends played kickball. I never did master a cursive capital G.

I love studying the handwriting of my friends and coworkers. The way they script says so much about who they are and how they learned to write. It's fascinating--especially the science behind it, something I will never understand.

Here's a sample of my writing. Anyone smarter than me, feel free to analyze my life from the way this looks:

What do you get complimented on the most?  Anything surprising?

Some things

Some things I'm thinking about today:

Stress--it makes your hair fall out, your skin breakout, causes weight gain, and keeps you from falling asleep. Soon I will be an extremely tired, fat, bald girl with bad skin. 

Fall--I always say that spring is my favorite season, but fall is definitely in the top two. I love the slow dip from high heat to crisp cool in the air. The spectacular show the leaves put on in their vibrant color change. Everything is either pumpkin or apple flavored. It's the time to pull out all my cute boots and leg warmers. Everything smells warm and cozy, and each sunset seems like a perfect moment to cuddle under a blanket and enjoy a warm mug of tea. Okay, so fall might be my favorite season.

Injuries--I broke a blood vessel in my hand spiking at the girls during warmups last weekend, and I'm pretty sure the bone in my foot is at least bruised, if not fractured. I don't think you are supposed to get injured this much as a coach. 

Graphic Design--I don't know how real designers do their job every day. If I have to make one more cutout of a fall leaf I'm going to go cross-eyed.

This makes me laugh. It's so true. Definitely need my sleep. I mean, I only got six hours last night! I need twice that to function.

Brett's truck has been in the shop for a week, so I've had to drive him to work at 6:45 a.m. even though I don't have to be at work until 8. Most days I've been pretty good and used the extra time to work out. This morning I used my extra time to go to Starbucks and get a Pumpkin Spice Latte. 

Did I mention I love fall?

Labor-less Day Weekend

Over Labor Day weekend, Brett and I did a lot of nothing. We watched a lot of Netflix, and that's about it. It was wonderful. On Sunday night, though, we went out for an adventure I've been dreaming about all summer. I suppose it was fitting that we enjoyed it on the last official day before summer ends.

We piled the back of Brett's truck with an old comforter, several miscellaneous blankets, and the pillows from the guest bedroom. Then we drove out to the boat loading dock at Lake Kohlmier. We lay in the back of the truck and watched the sun dip behind the trees across the lake. In that very still place, we decided to sit quietly and just be.

Writing Makes Me Want to Be An English Teacher

I'm frantically digging through the mass of stacked papers on my desk at work, and my fingers catch on a metal spoon stuck to a post-it note message: DON’T FORGET TO SEND FRIDAY. I take a moment to clean my desk.

I think I used that spoon last Wednesday, and the only thing the post-it note is stuck to is my calculator. I throw stacks of papers into the recycling bin, stack others in a “neat” to-do pile for this week, store others in wire “to-do later” shelf, and take my spoon to the kitchen.

I usually do this on Friday afternoons. That way, come Monday morning, my desk is “neat,” and I’m ready to answer my 43 emails received over the weekend. I’m not a very organized person. I usually say I am in job interviews and strength-listing social situations, but I’m really not. I always meet deadlines and I will never lose your work request. There is a running priorities list on a yellow legal pad next to my computer (there’s probably two or three additional, similar lists in various small legal pads and on the back of the Annual Luncheon PowerPoint draft, but the one next to my monitor is the most up-to-date). 

I’m messy. It’s a fact. My car serves as my second home, my laundry hamper, a garbage can, and a storage unit. My house looks similar to Jon and Kate’s before the money (and nanny and maid). And the divorce.

I’ve been living out of a laundry basket of clean clothes for a week and half. Brett finally washed last Thursday’s dishes on Saturday. I’m over-committed and constantly in a hurry. I’m trying to figure out how to both coach a volleyball tournament in St. Francis and attend my cousin’s bachelorette party in Edina on Friday night. I finally put gas in my car on Friday when I coasted into the Casey’s across from work—I wasn’t even planning on stopping until I realized I was literally running on fumes. I haven’t been able to find my black flats in three weeks.

Part of me wants to get back into tutoring or teaching English. Most of me knows I don’t have time for that right now. There are recipes I need to try out, Christmas plans to decide, plays I want to try out for, plays I want to direct, friends I want to visit, and books I want to read.

Eventually, I will catch my fingers on some metaphorical spoon in my life and be forced to slow down and organize.

Changes

Things look a little different now. When I started this blog, I was recently married and very unemployed. It was designed to house all of my fabulous creative writing I drafted during that unemployment and new adventure into being a 22-year-old housewife. Only I didn't do very much writing and eventually landed a job.

So this blog has become less themed, more of a small space for me to document things I might want to remember later. It's also a journal for me to sort out thoughts I haven't been able to communicate with anyone else. Who knows what (or when) I'll post now. But really, the overall goal has always been the same--I need a place to write, to think, to process, and to journal. And this is that little place. 

The new title--"Little Moments and Fun Adventures"--is pretty meaningless to anyone other than Brett and me. But to us, it's everything. It sums up who we are and what we do. "Little Moments" is our reminder to each other to celebrate and cherish the little moments every day, even if it's hard to recognize that a little moment is happening. And "Fun Adventures" is basically everything we do. If we drive somewhere and might get lost, or do something we've never done before, or do anything spontaneous, we go into it saying, "oh well, it'll be a fun adventure." (It's also what I call anything I want Brett to do with me that he doesn't want to--like, "please come to WalMart with me to buy toothpaste...it'll be a fun adventure!").

I do appreciate all my readers, so please stay. Offer advice. Comment. Mock. Just have some conversation with me. I'm a writer, so a world without communication is a lonely place. In fact, it's solitary confinement.