nerd voting

Today, early and bored at the airport (in Taiwan, they board planes in 5 minutes before scheduled takeoff), my family voted on who the biggest nerd in our family is. It's a topic we've discussed for the majority of my life. It started with stories my dad would tell us of his school days. Unfortunately for my dad, the response to most of his stories was, "Oh man, you were such a nerd." Fortunately for him, he couldn't care less if his thus far unsuccessful children think of him as a nerd.

Recently, though it's been taken perhaps a step too far. Since arriving in Taiwan, he purchased some "pants"* and had them quickly and cheaply tailored. As most people know, the problem with things/services offered for cheap is a lack of quality. Well. Dad's cheap tailoring led to his pants being about 3 inches too short when standing. Which translates to being 8 inches too short when sitting. It isn't particularly fair to question the tailoring before examining the other possibility: he is wearing his pants too high. However, the conclusion of either circumstance: he looks like a nerd. My mom has taken it upon herself to join in on the banter, "Oh, I see you are wearing your nerd pants today."

And this is where Dad drew the line. "Who do you think is the biggest nerd in our family?" It was put up for a vote. Three people voted Dad and one person voted Jocelyn. In a attempt to not earn the title Second Nerd, I attempted to convince the family that the Biggest Nerd shouldn't get a vote, but they felt that nerds deserve rights too.

Happy New Year from the eastern hemisphere. I spent it talking to my cousin, yelling happy new year out in the cabin (to which apparently my dad responded from upstairs but we heard nothing) and getting their dog way too excited and then giving her belly scratches.

*In quotation marks, as the cut-off length between pants and capris has been seriously called into question.

and either i'm nobody, or i'm a nation

I got to spend a whole rainy September morning in bed, doing nothing productive except plan an apple-picking expedition for this weekend and getting "tickets" to The Dark Harvest Fall Equinox (aka, somewhere you can drink 19 "very rare" dark beers). I read a little bit in an old book I just started (again), The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz and drank an Alex-made smoothie. Now it's looking not-so-rainy outside and my motivation to get out of bed is steadily increasing. I was feeling pretty all-powerful from bed (I mean, apple-picking and beer scheduled? What can she not do?), but then: I was unable to get seats in the free jam-making class going on at Learnapalooza in Logan Square this weekend. Canning and jam-making remind me of Montana because Alex's mom is a pro AND she recently sent us supplies.

Montana is: dusty roads, sweet dogs, Hank the dog chasing the car all the way down the dusty road to the next house (which is far away), planting tomatoes in the garden, homemade dinners, a lovely kitchen, a cabin in the woods, an afternoon spent learning how to shoot guns (the dogs were so nervous that they slept for the next 3 hours), collecting chicken eggs, hiking through the woods, sitting around talking and drinking mojitos, funny Bill thinking things that people do are weird, exploring nature and the pantry, hoping that the mama rabbit didn't eat the baby rabbits.

Montana is not: somewhere the government interferes, which is ultra-important to Bill ("So you live in the land of Rahm Emanuel, huh? He's like the devil"), a place where it is not unusual to keep a gun in your purse, somewhere you always need electricity (which is a beautiful thing, although makes shaving inconvenient), forgettable.

P.S. My afternoon of learning how to shoot guns left me a little enamored with shooting them, although I still believe in strict gun control. It sparked a conversation with Bill, who (not surprisingly) has exact opposite thoughts on gun ownership, but interestingly, is not at all opposed to the increased regulation that was being proposed at the time for purchasing guns. (This was early summer) He and Cheryl have guns to protect themselves from bears and animals, which comes with the territory of living in the mountains. They have both passed tests and taken classes on proper use and, at least from what I can tell, have no intention on using them on people. I still have a problem with guns in cities, which seems to hold a completely different context. So that's my little gun explanation, which feels necessary because I do live in Chicago, where guns (and the people behind them), are a huge problem.

though our lives are very humble, what we have we have to share

Just a few of the things that make my world go 'round, the love and the light.

It's kind of an arbitrarily important day for me, so I guess I'm feeling kind of sentimental about some of our best decisions we've ever made.

It was another gorgeous fall day. I heard a dad tell his daughter, "If you leave the pumpkins in the car, you can have a doughnut." Ahhh fall, the time of year that compromises with your parents are totally worth it. I went back "home" and spent the day with my mom:

1. doing yoga
2. petting dogs downtown and in general talking to people about their dogs (one dog who looked like Abby started following me as I was walking away from her owner, she was welcome to come)
3. eating Lou Malnati's deep dish pizza (deep dish pizza will be my vice for the rest of my life... and chocolate, and burritos, and popcorn)
4. going to the library, which must be done whenever i come back.
5. going to the dentist... i tried to convince my mom that i don't need to go to the dentist anymore, didn't work.
6. napping so hard I woke up with a headache and missed a few hangouts with friends. will be doing some profuse making up for that tomorrow.
7. watching les miserables with my mom... i loved it. it was gorgeous.

on showing up

 "The bottom line is that vulnerability is scary and it feels really dangerous, but it’s not nearly as dangerous or scary as spending your life on the outside looking in and wondering, ‘What if I had chosen to show up?’"

Brené Brown

dear abby (again),

Our pretty dog.

Something weird that I keep thinking about is something that my psychiatry attending said regarding a patient. He said, it's amazing how many people in the midst of psychotic episodes are brought into the hospital because their dog died. You were still alive then, but I'm pretty sure I spent the moments after he said that thinking, my god, I need her to be okay. And this patient we had: I understood his sadness.

I just want you to know that I miss you and talk about you every single day. You were the light of my summer and I liked that you were always extra cuddly in the morning. You would throw your head on my shoulder and just lay there, which is not something I could always get you to do pretty much any other time. Maybe my favorite thing was whenever you heard the word "outside," you could pop up and be ready to go, even at your sickest. And the greetings when we came home. You would always be super excited, no matter where you were in the apartment, grab the nearest object on the ground (sometimes one of your toys, sometimes a sock laying around).

Even though you had to spend a lot of time at the vet the last week, we tried to make sure you got a visit every day. Nobody could believe how much you lit up when you saw us. I was sure you were like that for any person you saw, but the staff insisted it was mostly just for us. Thanks for that... sometimes you acted like a cat, so we appreciate the little things. I brought your green lamb toy, hoping they would keep it with you, so we played with that one day when you had a lot of energy. Other days, you just rested your head in my lap and slept.

I wrote this super long thing about you after the vet told us you had cancer because I wanted to remember every little thing you did that made my days or made me worry. But I guess there are only a few takeaways. The first is self-indulgent: I feel comfort in knowing that you got to spend the end of your life with people who loved you and tried to convince you to play with toys you were uninterested in. But who would also scour the neighborhood for somewhere that was fenced in so you could run to your heart's content (the fact that some of the running was after a rabbit who was able to dig under the fence while you ran snout-first into it is not our doing. Of note: Alex was secretly cheering for you to "get it." Not that we knew what "getting" the rabbit would entail, in your opinion).

The second takeaway: after you passed away, Alex and I signed up to volunteer for Chicago Animal Care and Control. You taught us that our lives are meant to be lived for those who can't protect themselves. I used to think that my priority should be people, but I now know that there are too many vulnerable people and animals. I hope that we are able to help in a profound way, either by fostering or adopting again. In my mind, it's important to keep repeating "No other dog would replace Abby," even though that's a given. No question. But if we can help out some more animals in the future, it would be to honor you, Abby.

dreams.

Last night I had a dream that I had to take Step 2 (an 8 hour exam) on May 31, which I was somehow unaware that I had signed up for. I kept thinking to myself that it was weird I signed up so early for it, as most people take it in September. I also thought it was strange that I hadn't studied at all for it and began panicking. Furthermore, my computer froze, the monitor stopped working, and I had to look off a TV screen that was in the corner of the room to read the questions. At this point, I finally decided that these testing conditions were unacceptable and told the preceptor I would be taking it instead in a month, although he wanted me to just start over on a different computer.

As it turns out, I will never stop having school nightmares. This seems appropriate, as school will apparently never end.

every once in awhile

 “Travel is little beds and cramped bathrooms. It’s old television sets and slow Internet connections. Travel is extraordinary conversations with ordinary people. It’s waiters, gas station attendants, and housekeepers becoming the most interesting people in the world. It’s churches that are compelling enough to enter. It’s McDonald’s being a luxury. It’s the realization that you may have been born in the wrong country. Travel is a smile that leads to a conversation in broken English. It’s the epiphany that pretty girls smile the same way all over the world. Travel is tipping 10% and being embraced for it. Travel is the same white T-shirt again tomorrow. Travel is accented sex after good wine and too many unfiltered cigarettes. Travel is flowing in the back of a bus with giggly strangers. It’s a street full of bearded backpackers looking down at maps. Travel is wishing for one more bite of whatever that just was. It’s the rediscovery of walking somewhere. It’s sharing a bottle of liquor on an overnight train with a new friend. Travel is ‘Maybe I don’t have to do it that way when I get back home.” 

-Nick Miller, Isn't it Pretty to Think So?

dear abby,

I think today felt like some sort of weird milestone of a day. I say this because suddenly, I found myself sobbing on LaSalle and Grand. They say that you aren't a New Yorker until you've cried publicly on the subway. I'm not trying to be a New Yorker and I'm certainly not trying to do any (additional) public crying, but this was kind of like that. I'm so grateful for my roommate, who reacted perfectly, and to his boyfriend, who was so sweet despite his terror at seeing a girl he's known for 5 days bawling. My roommate is effusively kind, hilarious, and incredibly intuitive. They gave me space and then swooped in, first listening, then when the time was right, cracking jokes. It wasn't a pretty sight, but they picked me up.

Later, we decided: I'm okay. You're okay. And we repeated it a lot to each other because we know it's true.

this is just so you know.

A few days ago, I decided I would try to write something before going to bed every night, whether it's a few lines of thought on the internet or on paper, or an e-mail to a someone. I don't know if this will work out well because I usually get around 6 hours of sleep and those 15 minutes in the morning seem super valuable. However, today:

• I am "officially" missing someone (see above photos, which can be explained by "There's gotta be some way that you can measure my head so that it's bigger than yours." Conclusion: no, there is not a way that this can happen). Sometimes missing someone happens all the time, but hits you hard all at once.
• Listening to Sara Bareilles' "The Blessed Unrest." I really like that album name. 
• I'm pulling out all the stops to get permission to adopt a dog we have fallen in love with. 
• I answered some very weird questions in clinic today. Residents always think that if they aren't sitting down with you to literally teach, you aren't learning very much. But that's not true, and I pick up a lot of lessons from watching the ways all different doctors treat patients, sometimes with kindness, sometimes without.
• I think that's it. I've been thinking about Abby the dog and how to teach developmentally disabled people about health. And that's it.

every now and then...

International travel is wonderful. I think that's a non-descript way of phrasing my love affair with putting some things in a small suitcase and dragging it from country to country and ignoring its horrible stench that is inevitable toward the end of an extended trip. It's this purple suitcase that gets placed gingerly in the overhead compartment and thrashed around in flight. It's thrown in the rack above the seats on hot, stifling train rides. To me, it is a reminder to minimize the things I require and maximize the things worth remembering. A book, a pen, and a notebook. A plane, a train, a bus, the back of a truck. That's it.

I still dream of the countries I want to go. But recently, I've been thinking that I should take the next few years to really explore my own country. My god, I love this country. The song America the Beautiful gives me chills in a very nerdy way. Iceland, Thailand, Argentina became Montana, Seattle, national parks (all of them). So that's what we did on June 7. Traveling in America feels luxurious. I love the languages of all the countries I've been, but when you are fluent (and at the very least, adequately competent) in the language of a place that is already unfamiliar, it's just easy. I will never forgo the struggle, confusion, and joy that comes with being far away and not knowing exactly what it is I'm doing or have just agreed to. But right now, I'm delighting in being able to learn and listen to stories with a greater depth and dimension than I could when I was trying to simultaneously piece together the unfamiliarity of places, strangers, and languages.

I have a lot to say about the strangers who began to feel like family, the old friend with whom we got drunk from one beer and laughed so hard, the dogs that made us want more space in our small city apartment. I have thought a lot about the stories that left me incredulous, that seem so distant as I lay in my own bed on a quiet summer night. It's these stories that remind me of the remarkable diversity of experience that we've all had, that somehow led me to bright city lights curtained to stay out of my room so I can finally sleep. It's for these stories I found myself sitting around with strangers, next to someone whose steadiness I need by my side in a Montana mountain. No city lights, but all the stars that have ever existed. Listening.

why I think it would be ok to move your kids around the world.

A conversation with a 3-year-old:

Me: Do you like living in Burr Ridge?
S: There's a pool.
Me: Do you like it more than Chicago? Or do you miss Chicago?
S: They are close by. There's a pool in Chicago too.

There's such incredible resiliency in kids. And in adults too. But sometimes we forget.

i guess there's not much to say today

My Google search is a veritable goldmine of gems, some of which are attributable to medical school ("Does strep viridans grow in bile" [yes, at times, I guess I still Google in Ask Jeeves format, although usually I am much more efficient]) and others are not ("Brigham Young"- he had 55 wives). Life continues to be glorious.

Of note: it's rainy and tea of the day is Jasmine Phoenix Pearls. 

this latte is from too early on a sunday morning

 I think the best thing about medical school is how a man can ask you, "How was your presentation on..." and you can finish the sentence, "... female genitalia?" And he answers, "Yeah, that one" without skipping a beat. "It was pretty good." And it's normal. Because I think that kind of thing is hard to come by in the real world when the man isn't your chief resident, who went to medical school in Tehran and was an ER doc and then did medical school again in the U.S. and is now an internal medicine doctor who tells you stories about a man who tried to pay for a car in cash and crashed into the car dealership with the car he was test driving. People. Are. Amazing.

Note to self: be more like that. Because right now things are looking a little like this (but less funny):

elephant tea pot

Spotted this elephant tea pot this morning and accidentally became obsessed with the idea of elephant tea pots. And it holds 28 oz.! I had to switch from my awesome 40 oz. clear teapot to one that holds maybe 12 ounces, and I miss being able to make 2-3 cups of tea at the same time for a friend or brother.

things i absolutely need to do this weekend:

1. Interview tomorrow
2. Babysit Saturday
3. Painting class Sunday
4. Work out.
5. Be caught up in class.
6. Make thank you cards.
7. Grocery shop.
8. Clean my bathroom.
9. Fold my clothes.
10. Clean floors.
11.  Order textbooks.
12. Wash linens.

I guess here's where I say something that solidifies my old woman status, but I don't even care and have fully embraced who I am. Who I am is someone ready for productivity and studying super hard. My last claim to young womanhood- I have no kids so I feel like all the chores I need to do combined should take 30-45 minutes. I know some people having babies now, and they're cute, and I'm sure they wouldn't want their lives any other way, but man I am happy when I think about how easy my apartment is to clean because there is no child who just smashed cheese on the walls, which I have cleaned off walls before and is not so fun to do. Or when I can somewhat irresponsibly and spontaneously spend $15 on coffee each week because that won't be the difference between whether my baby can eat for the day or not, I can't help but think... FREEDOM!

pencil reasoning

So here's my reasoning about these pencils: Oh man I love these pencils.  They would make writing stuff much better. Wait, I don't use pencils anymore. All tests are taken on computers, all handwritten things are written in pen. I could use them for those random quizzes we have. Nah, I always use Mike's pencil for those. It's kind of a tradition. It's probably a super annoying tradition for Mike though. We don't even have those quizzes anymore. Wow, that's $2 per pencil. Probably totally worth it. How much do pencils even cost these days? Oh right, I don't know because I don't use pencils.

I guess the conclusion here: would somebody who uses pencils please buy and love these? On my behalf.

my ideal bookshelf

First things first- I love the public library. I still remember the first time I went to the library in the new town we had moved to when I was five. I checked out so many books. I think it's the best thing ever. There was an amazing library in the town I grew up and in Chicago, so there has never really been a need for me to buy a ton of books. Nonetheless, besides traveling, I think books (okay, and food) are my favorite way to spend money. I checked this book out at the library awhile ago but eventually it was due, and then it was overdue, and I still hadn't finished reading it.

This book asks a bunch of people what books would be on their ideal bookshelf. Even though there are quite a few people (mostly designers) I haven't heard of, the explanations (on the opposing page) are so great for every single one. Some of the books people chose aren't favorites, but books that had been significant to them at one point or another. Or, they are the books that are consuming them now.

So a few weeks ago, I decided to make the trek up north to the Book Cellar and buy this book for myself as a late birthday gift. This is Atul Gawande's bookshelf and a little bit of his reasoning:

"Writing is about speaking to others who may be confused about the same kinds of things that I'm confused about, and ho are willing to follow along as I explore what's interesting to me. How else would I end up writing about itching? I just wanted to tell a story. And I hoped it would make people feel really itchy."

dear bottomless coffee,

Will I ever sleep again? Or will I just be eating a lot of stinky cheese under the guise that it is about to go bad even though I Googled that cheese is usually fine for two weeks after the Sell By date and it's only been 5 days?

Sincerely,
Jocelyn

a letter to days forgotten

And then came the day I hoped, without believing, would come. I forgot your name. The forgetting lasted more than a second, but not more than a few moments. I knew I wanted to remember you, to find you in the recesses of my mind, or something. But I couldn't think of you, even though it was cold and there was some point in a past life I always thought I would need to turn to you when I couldn't feel my toes. At the very least, in the darker moments because I thought I'd need something for a rainy day. My mom taught me to save up for a rainy day and we always had our differences; what we felt we should be saving was only one of them. I guess I thought (and dreaded) that for me, it would always be you. And then came the day that I knew that it was raining, but that it wasn't you. And just like that, I was free. Over and over again, free.

But before that freedom, and after the day you said good-bye like only a coward could, a lot of days went by that I wasn't even thinking about you. There were lots of rainy days that my mind never even acknowledged your absence as something noteworthy; it forgot that I didn't even really have rainy days before you. Those days that went by unacknowledged, un-noted, and not today, were the real testaments to how irrelevant you had become to me. Those days I learned to come home and turn on all the lights in the living room and one set of lights in the kitchen to embrace brightness and read a book instead of crumpling into bed motionless--those days, and not today, are the ones I stood by myself in the way that I dreamt of in high school.

I'm proud that you don't know me today. I feel no desire to explain any part of myself to you. I think back on you only as a mile marker of a place I came from, and I can't wait for the rest of the miles.

Maybe I wish I knew which day, which moment, nothing was about you anymore. Maybe that would have given me some peace of mind at the time. To know that every decision was for myself again. But from where I stand now, that moment doesn't matter to me anymore. Because there were so many moments after that one. And that was the more important accomplishment.

Refusing to be haunted doesn't always come easy, you know.

Facing things head on doesn't always come easy, but you wouldn't know.

on safety

I just checked my phone to see if I had any good pictures of probably the best dinner I ever had last night and instead I found that the camera on my phone had been turned to the video recording mode. I usually make sure to turn it back to the camera mode because I am someone who would miss a shot because I accidentally took a video of it instead of a picture. I am also the kind of person who would eat the entire dark chocolate and almond bar that my mom gave me yesterday as a birthday gift even though I just got it yesterday and even though I just saw a museum exhibit at the Museum of Science and Industry that said you would gain 27 pounds in a year if you ate a candy bar every day.

I have taken a few videos on my phone, but at this juncture, I am unsure of what to do with this particular medium, so I was surprised that it should be on video recording mode. I found some pictures of total blackness, taken from the inside of my winter parka pocket. And then I found a recording. There was no video (except for the fascinating insides of my pocket) but the audio recording was pretty clear. Crunching snow, some static, and a Jersey Shore accent. Because that's what we did last night. We crunched through the snow, slipped across the ice, and fell into our jokes, accents that started out as a straight-from-Italia, mama's kitchen, and as we hopped off the bus, shifted to accents of generations later- the cast from Jersey Shore. We have different accents and characters we play when we are walking the 15 minutes from the bus stop to  home and I'm sure it's bizarre but right now we are going through an Italian phase, maybe from the pleasure of cooking or joy of delicious food. It's gotten to the point that I can't get That's Amore out of my head.

It started out when we pretended to be burritos and I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. You thought it was pretty weird but couldn't help laughing (mostly at me and my laughter). You were the best at tucking me in bed, so I guess you figured you might as well take it one step further and made me into a burrito. That one got to the point that when the neonatal resident talked about how they wrap babies in blankets "like burritos," Oh I know all about that accidentally slipped out of my mouth to my friend standing next to me. You know about this swaddle? the resident asked. No... I was just saying that I know about burritos. Sorry.

 But this feeling has defined the past eight months. Being wrapped up, warm, and safe. I'm lucky I know because it's cold outside and some people have to be outside all the time. I've gotten into this habit that I haven't told anybody about, not even you. Each night as I'm falling asleep, there's a moment that I relish, and I wait to experience it each night. It takes a moment to settle into bed, rest my head and then it comes, a feeling of safety and well-being. You're here, inside and safe. My brother is home. He's okay. My mom and my dad. I imagine each person I love being inside and safe. They are where cold wind, library fines, people saying mean things about them, loneliness, and icy sleet hitting their faces couldn't touch them.

When I was a kid, I pretended to have a secret watch that I could use to communicate with Samantha, who is a pillow that used to be my comfort object. Samantha was the captain and would convey all my messages to my other stuffed animals and I could hear from them when I was away throughout the day. I don't think I ever actually thought about it except when I was already home and in bed and thus would need no secret watch communication, but I always fell asleep better knowing that if I ever needed it, it would be there. I'm not a timid person, but I started daycare when I was very young. I guess this new habit of mine is the grown-up version and I just wanted to let you know that you give me that.

you look like georgia

 

so grateful for all the adventures this week. learned a lot, tried a lot. attempted balance. still not so good at it. it's okay. everything turned out okay. i've been doing this thing in which i have been resisting sleep, which i don't understand because it's not like i get a lot of it or don't like it. i'm tired and don't have the words right now, except that i'm excited for this next week. people hate valentine's day but i'm all for celebrations. all the time.

into the light of the dark black night

picture by KatieAnnOwens

Maybe the first time an image has every embodied the ultimate goal of my life. Coffee, books, mountains, and a really cozy blanket. Probably something in the oven. At the moment, I can't figure out what is in there, a batch of cookies or a hearty meal. Here, we say "I love you back" instead of "I love you too" because it's better or maybe just because it's new. There's this moment in the song Blackbird that I get really concerned because it feels like the song is ending. Even though 1:36 is too short for a song to end, it seems like it could end there because that was a good 1 minute and 36 seconds. But you need just one more Blackbird singing in the dark of night to come after into the light of the dark black night. And when the music continues at 1:45, it's like, thank god. No matter how drowsy I am after playing the song over and over again before I go to bed, my breath catches a little bit at 1:36 and releases at 1:45.  (When I am too tired to read, I sleep on the right side of the bed and my computer sits on the left side, playing me Blackbird or Moon River). That's how I feel about the mountains.

kiwi's big adventure

This afternoon was rainy, icy and quiet. I didn't get as much schoolwork done as I had wanted, which is the story of my life but I think I needed a break. I still plan on getting more done later in the night. Instead I tried a green tea called Kiwi's Big Adventure. I definitely need to try some more before I can give a final recommendation because it was quite flavorful and I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it. I really love earthy green teas but I think I'm coming around to flavored ones too. I don't know how I feel about the "artificial flavoring" probably because there is a shroud of mystery around the term "artificial flavoring" and I don't know what that is. Next time I may need to take a better look at the ingredients and pick one without that.

Tea: Kiwi's Big Adventure
Steeping: 1 tsp per cup, Steep 2-3 min in 180 F water.
Ingredients: Green tea, apple, kiwi, lemon grass, lemon peel, artificial flavoring

Description: This kiwi-spiked green tea is a real treat. From the second the aroma hits you, you know you're in for something special. Sweet, fruity, tart and lively, it's an adventure you won't soon forget.

Other: My brother is currently trying to talk his way out of getting new dress pants, presumably with my mom. I can only imagine what she is saying, "I know you have a really dark black pair but you need one that is less black, for casual dressy situations." Sorry for the facetiousness, Mom. I'm not sure what point my brother is trying to make in his half-Chinese, half-English, "It's less common to wear dress-pants because they don't go with other clothes!"

"Alright. Bye." He hung up the phone and I know he has lost the battle.

"Jocelyn, they want me to wear dresspants over my jeans." Now, I knew that they (probably) didn't just think of that idea and it had been a compromise, poorly executed, like that story in the Bible about the baby you have to either cut in half or just let the other person take the whole thing. My parents are definitely in the cutting the baby in half camp.

what became of the day and the pictures

So I absolutely know how to take pictures that are not via Instagram.Unfortunately, I don't know how to get any pictures from my phone onto my computer. Rather, I think I know but I don't know that I know. Furthermore, as I attempted to upload pictures from my camera (the actual one) onto my computer about an hour ago, I somehow deleted all but 7-ish of all the pictures I took since October. This includes: pictures of the pumpkin we carved (it was the Chicago skyline, by which I mean, some rectangles of differing sizes next to each other- no, ambition is not our fault), some cool date pictures (like, actually cool), Roland the dog and other pictures from Miami, scarf pictures, and some of projects. I decided to try not to be upset about it since I'm sure much more upsetting things will be happening in the near future. I instead poured through some cookbooks and I'm now just about ready to start thinking about dinner. So anyway, that's why Instagram is happening. I decided to embrace it and the fact that it's helping me keep up with pictures and life.

Here is my Instagram. I don't know anybody on it with the exception of one person because I don't want to connect it to my Facebook and also I don't know how to find anybody- am I Instagram-profiling if I search for certain people that I feel might have Instagram? Anyway, feel free to follow, although I'm not sure why you would want to, as the pictures appear accidentally taken and the commentary isn't snarky.

I was pretty excited that it started snowing yesterday. But then this morning outdid yesterday's efforts- there were beautiful, large, puffy flakes coming down and I caught Alex gravitating toward the window more than once. He came over this morning to make pumpkin cookies with me (recipe forthcoming). We also made some of the new tea that I got. It was wintry, peaceful, warm (thanks, oven; no thanks to you, heater), and all felt right in the world.

In the last picture, Alex's hair? The best. I try not to make a big deal of it because I am obviously too cool and his head already too big for that, but his morning hair, which often becomes his whole day hair, is the best. He tells people it's his hat hair but I suspect it's just his hair.

today was coffee, tomorrow is fresh tea and pumpkin cookies

just a few notes.

Today is for feeling strong and smart. Exercising and studying. The only creative thing I did today was make envelopes for some cards I'm trying to send. That's enough. Raspberries will forever remind me of Kayla and the way she ate raspberries, which was by sticking her index finger into the top and plopping it on her tongue. I eat them late at night and nearly forget the last one (with some Honeybush tea that I'm trying to steep so it's strong enough for me). I'm managing to pack enough food to last me during the day until I can get home eight hours later and even though it's not, I think it's pretty cool. I think it's pretty sad that there is a whole separate women's fitness industry- separate gyms and activities- perhaps because women don't feel safe and comfortable working out at the same gyms as men? That level of discomfort and invasion of privacy is not okay. Going to a gym to find like-minded women who enjoy the same workouts you do is okay. But a woman lifting heavy weights is awesome. And waking up warm is a much better way to start out the day.

Week of 1/14

 This post is intended to look back on my endeavors from last week as part of my goal to do something creative every day. I think the hat is actually from the second week of January. This week, I:

Knit: Made armwarmers... until I ran out of yarn. Then started designing some legwarmers that are appropriate for my lifestyle of the past two years, which involves wearing a lot of leggings and not a lot of pants. The cold winter air gets into my boots. Also took out this blanket to begin thinking about what steps I can take to complete it.

Cooked: "Healthy Picadillo." It wasn't too complicated, involved some peppers, carrots, raisins, onions, garlic, tomato sauce, wine, balsamic vinegar. And it was amazing. I didn't eat out all week until Friday (Chipotle) and Saturday afternoon (Nookie's) so that I could work out, which lasted for two meals.

Read: Got a bunch of cookbooks from the library, per my advice to myself. Continued reading American Chinatown by Bonnie Tsui. It's due in 8 days so I need to get on that. I've already started reading The Good Women of China, but decided to finish American Chinatown first.

Watched: Zero Dark 30.

Wrote: Hopefully something I can finish up this week. Also changed my blog a little bit so I would feel more tempted to use it.

Took some pictures: I actually downloaded Instagram on Friday thinking that it would help me get pictures from my phone onto my computer more easily. 

Working out: Twice. I want to get to three eventually. Backsquat 105 (3), Deadlift 155 (1)