Scotland the Brave

Over the past month, Scotland has been on my mind. Partly that had to do with the referendum and vote for independence (since I'm not Scottish, I'm told I'm not allowed to have an opinion on this matter), but mostly has to do with my dream to own a B&B in Scotland one day.

One of my mom's cousins recently returned from a birthday trip to Scotland and an aunt mentioned my dream in passing to him. He sent me a private message via Facebook offering to invest if I every truly went ahead with my dream (if I understood him correctly, there is a stipulation of buying in St. Andrews so he can come visit and golf whenever he wants which I'm totally not opposed to doing). Dream come true right there!

So what's stopping me? I don't know if it's fear of the unknown or fear of failure that's made me really stop and not pursue more than a casual perusal of real estate listings. I've got a general idea of what all it would take to actually go through with it and a vague idea of how much it would all cost so it's not a fear of not knowing where to start that's holding me back. I know my husband is on board if I actually decide to go through with something like this. He'd even be perfect for something like this since he's been going to school for hotel management and is actually a very good customer service worker (he's weird in that he likes people and generally gets along with everyone) so I know it's not a fear of having to convince my love. I know our families would miss us, but I also know that they'd plan vacations so they could come visit (we'd black out certain time periods where only family would be staying at the B&B).

I don't know. Of course I don't want to fail in anything I attempt, but that's normal. I also don't mind going to new places, and since I've already visited Scotland twice now, it's not like it's completely unknown to me. I've fallen in love with the country and the people and would gladly live and work there. So what's the deal? Why am I finding it so difficult to actually move forward and start chasing this dream? I know life is short and that I'll regret it if I don't at least try, but why does it have to be so hard to take the leap?

Books, Books, Books

A friend posted a list of 100 books she wants to read in the next year, and I couldn't believe that I hadn't thought to do that. I mean, #12 of my bucket list was "Read every day" so there's no reason I can't meet a similar goal.

My list is a strange combination of classic and contemporary, fantasy and romance,male and female narrators, stand-alones and series. I make no excuses for why I haven't read these yet. Everyone has different tastes in literature so I'm going to try to branch out while still remaining true to myself.

1. The Sandman Series by Neil Gaiman
2. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
3. The Serpent of Venice by Christopher Moore
4. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
5. The Fault in Our Stars by John Greene
6. Outlander by Diana Gabaldon
7. The Lunar Chronicles: Cinder by Marissa Meyer
8. The Lunar Chronicles: Scarlet by Marissa Meyer
9. The Lunar Chronicles: Cress by Marissa Meyer
10. As Always, Julia: The Letters of Julia Child and Avis DeVoto: Food, Friendship, and the Making of a Masterpiece by Joan Reardon
11. The Color of Magic by Terry Pratchett
12. The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett
13. Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card
14. A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin
15. The Looking glass Wars by Frank Beddor
16. Ulysses by James Joyce
17. Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë
18. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle
19. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
20. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
21. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
22. Complete Poems, 1904-1962 by e.e. cummings
23. The Complete Poetry and Prose by William Blake
24. Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson
25. Coyote Blue by Christopher Moore
26. Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman
27. Emma by Jane Austen
28. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
29. For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway
30. His Dark Materials: The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman
31. His Dark Materials: The Subtle Knife by Philip Pullman
32. His Dark Materials: The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman
33. Night by Elie Wiesel
34. The Time Quintet: A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle
35. The Time Quintet: A Wind in the Door by Madeleine L'Engle
36. The Time Quintet: A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeleine L'Engle
37. The Time Quintet: Many Waters by Madeleine L'Engle
38. The Time Quintet: An Acceptable Time by Madeleine L'Engle
39. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
40. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
41. Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne
42. The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
43. Lady Chatterly's Lover by D.H. Lawrence
44. Atonement by Ian McEwan
45. Animal Farm by George Orwell
46. Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut
47. To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
48. Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice
49. Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley
50. Divergent by Veronica Roth
51. Middlemarch by George Elliot
52. As You Wish by Cary Elwes

One book per week. Doable. Some books will take longer, but some will be much shorter so I figure that evens itself out. And if I meet my goal before my next birthday, then I'll just add some more to the list!

Use, Wear, Make, Do

A year or so ago I saw a quote that is attributed to originating during the Great Depression:

"Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without."

How simple and genius is that? How did we ever move away from that mentality without feeling at least a smidgen of guilt? I'll admit that I've been more than guilty of not following this motto especially since having children. It's hard sometimes to not give in to those puppy dog eyes when they're asking so sweetly for the ball they found in the bargain bin at the store.

But I do feel guilty. How often have I given in to the pleas of my children? Or listened to that voice in the back of my mind that convinces me I need another notebook or set of pens? I'm pretty good at keeping true to the motto when it comes to my own clothing, but if I see a good deal on kids' clothing, I snap it up. Sometimes it's for down the road when what's already in the closet is outgrown, but far too often it's clothing they already fit in even though they don't need it. I do make up for it by donating the outgrown clothing to those who need it and save anything that I truly loved for the baby. I've even got a tote of outgrown clothing that will become a quilt in the future. But what about the toys? The books? The miscellaneous junk that seems to creep into the house when I'm not looking?

Going forward, I'm going to make a conscious decision to follow this motto. There's no reason to not appreciate and use what we've already got in our house. And with Christmas coming, money is going to be tight so I really need to try to make gifts out of the things I've already got lying around. Goodness knows I've got plenty of craft supplies hidden all over that need to be used. I also want to try my hand at gardening next spring. I've got several friends who already have successful veggie gardens whom I can ask for advice. I'm hoping that maybe they'll be willing to do trades on some of the vegetables so that we can all grow a nice variety without any of us overdoing any one vegetable. We've decluttered the house a small amount over the summer but nowhere near as much as we could. I've got some ideas of what needs to go and what can stay and plan to start on those projects after the kids go to bed tonight. There are several items that I could probably sell online too.

Use, wear, make, do. My new motto.

Ode to My Grandma

I've experienced two deaths of grandparents in my 29 years: my great-grandmother when I was in high school and my grandpa last autumn. This morning I experienced my third. My grandma succumbed to pneumonia this morning after having battled cancer for the better part of a decade. She had fallen ill after leaving my parents' house when she and my aunt were continuing on to Virginia to see my uncle in Virginia. They were able to make it to Virginia Beach where she was hospitalized and diagnosed. My dad and his twin flew to be by her side when it appeared that she would not be leaving the hospital. A turn for the worse followed by a marked improvement where they projected her being released on Friday, then another turn for the worst. She was given morphine to help her sleep and breathe, one dose. She never woke up. She never struggled again. Surrounded by her children, she knew how loved she was, knew just how much she would be missed. One day short of her 76th birthday, she slipped quietly away. No more pain, no more struggling, she finally got the rest she so desperately wanted in the end. My dad had returned home yesterday and so wasn't able to be with her in her final moments, and honestly, I think that may have been for the best. He'd already seen his wonderful mother slipping away, attached to machines with tubes coming out of her. He didn't need to see her frail body take her last breath.

I've been dealing with my grief for four days now, ever since my dad decided that he needed to fly out to be with her. I knew in my heart that if he was going that it was the end. I came to terms with it in my own way and experienced different levels of the stages of grief, most of those all in a single day. I've been waffling between depression and acceptance today. I'm equal parts devastated and accepting of her passing. I know logically that she's not in pain anymore, but I'm selfishly wishing she was still here. Not sick or in the hospital because that would be beyond selfish, but still alive, still healthy. I take more comfort in knowing she got to meet her two great-granddaughters and see her great-grandson one more time. I also found comfort in cooking today. I made her beans and fried potatoes as well as her fudge.

The famous fudge. For 25 years, I believed it was an old family recipe. She made it for us every time we came to visit, had been making it for her own children and learned the recipe from her mother. She'd written the recipe on a piece of legal paper for my sister when we were in high school. I called her one day to ask her to email the recipe to me. Imagine my shock when she said, "It's on the back of the Hershey's cocoa powder." The shock! The betrayal! The hilarity! I got her back for that one four years ago when I held her hostage and forced her to write the recipe down. I knew one day she'd be gone and that I would want that recipe in her handwriting. It was worth it for the note at the bottom: "Boil again if it doesn't work or eat with a spoon." She had followed that last bit with a story about my Great-Uncle Junior who used to do exactly that any time the fudge didn't set. I'll cherish that story for the rest of my life because I will have that recipe framed and hanging in my kitchen.

I will miss my grandma until I breathe my last breath. And I will think of her every time I see her fudge recipe hanging in my kitchen, every time I have a tuna sandwich, every time I see the first roses bloom in the spring. Every doberman will remind me of her. The smell of pinto beans and fried potatoes will bring back fond memories. Even a line from Shakespeare will make me think of her. She is loved, and she is missed.

"Though she be but little, she is fierce." A Midsummer Night's Dream

Car Problems or How I Swallowed My Pride

About two weeks ago, my husband's car broke down for the 357th time (rough estimate, this may or may not actually be accurate). The belt had snapped again, the third one in as many months. So he comes to the conclusion that is time to change the pulley. Surely that must be the problem for why the belt keeps breaking. New pulley purchased, put on the car, another new belt added, and now the car won't start. Weird. Changing out the pulley shouldn't have had any effect on the car starting. Connections get check, sensors and fuses get replaced, still nothing. An uncle comes over with a tow dolly, and off they go to a local auto shop. Minor sticker shock when they say it'll cost $130 to hook it up to the diagnostic machine and run a bunch of tests, but since it's almost pay day, and we desperately need to get the car fix, we give them the go ahead.

The day passes quickly with no news, then like a kick to gut we learn that the engine is shot. Something about the crankshaft and the pistons, but I honestly stopped listening and started freaking out the moment the lady on the phone said it was the engine. Now I may not know a lot about cars, but even I know an engine is not cheap. Add on the labor for a mechanic doing the work, and I'm sure you can forgive me for becoming hysterical pretty quickly. I still had no idea what the cost was going to be when I was forced to swallow my pride last night and beg my friends and family on Facebook for money.

An hour into my work day, and I received the call. Four-thousand-three-hundred dollars. Not only was this nowhere near what I could have ever guessed the cost would be, but it was also nowhere near the amount of money I knew my friends and family would be willing to donate to us. I was already emotionally tapped out from having to set up the GoFundMe account. There was just no way I could go back and add more to our goal, and it would be silly to spend that kind of money on a 15-year-old car that isn't even worth the refinancing that's already on it.

Now we sit and wait, wondering what to do. We're obviously not replacing the engine, but we also can't sell the car with the lien on it. For the time being, our plan is to pay off the loan, sell the car to a salvage yard, and buy a new to us mini van.

I've never been more scared or depressed in my life, but I've also never been more humbled or grateful than I was when the donations trickled in. Within an hour, an old high school classmate had donated $100. By morning, we were up to $200 thanks to family. Lunch time saw a boost to $500 thanks to a college classmate and then $630 by the time I had eaten and gotten back to my desk thanks to more family. I've never been good at asking for help, but having people reach out so quickly without a second thought was beyond anything I could have ever hoped for.

Feminists and Why I am One, or I'm Proud to be a Girl

Second post and again, it's because of something I saw someone else write about on two other pages. First it was my favorite blogger, Jenny Lewis aka The Bloggess. She explained feminism and why it's a good thing in her delightful bizarre and whimsical fashion (seriously, feminists being compared to bees and sharks and how we're all just misunderstood in the end; delightful, ridiculous, and hilarious as hell). Anyway, feminism. It's not about man-hating, bra-burning, blowing up the government. Sure, there are some feminists who want to do that, but just like not all babies are the same, neither are all feminists. Feminism for me is strictly about equality. I should be able to hold the same job, receive the same pay for said job, have total control over my body and any medical decisions I need to make for it, not have to worry about being harassed/attacked/assaulted and then asked what I was doing/wearing/saying to provoke it, etc. etc. etc. That's not totally what this is all about since thousands of bloggers have said these things a million times better than I am right now.

The second post that prompted this was something in Huff Po (but I'm using the link to her original post) that a friend posted on Facebook that really got me thinking. I've never been small, at least not since I was little (first, maybe second grade?). I've had big, frizzy hair and worn glasses since about the same time. I still have acne even though I'm about to reach 30 years (and that's just cruel, Mother Nature). I'm lazy and can't be bothered to get up early to do my hair or make up more days out of the year than I care to admit (let's just round it up to 360 days because that's pretty damn close to the truth). I rarely feel pretty, especially when I see a photo after the fact. All I see are my flaws.

"Look at my gigantic arms."

" Oh man, is that another zit forming on my forehead?"

"Why did no one warn me that my hair looked like that?!"

It's honestly exhausting to always have to worry what I'm going to look like in the pictures family and friends are snapping and posting on Facebook (not that I really care what others think of me, but I don't like feeling ugly; it's my human nature rearing again). But even more than exhausting, it's not productive, and it's certainly not healthy. It's setting a dangerous precedence for my two girls (and my son because, let's face it, boys are also bombarded with magazines telling them they need to be more rugged and handsome and thin and beautiful). I don't want my children to grow up seeing me worry and fret over how I look in pictures, too immobilized with fear over not being pretty or thin enough. I don't want the pictures on the walls of my home to be of just my husband and the kids with no proof that I live there too.

I want to play with my kids with reckless abandon while also not dying of heat stroke because I wore jeans and an oversized t-shirt. I want to laugh and dance and sing without a care in the world of who might be taking a picture. I want my girls to grow up loving their bodies and my son to grow up respecting the bodies of other girls. I want to feel pretty even when I've just got my hair pulled back and old yoga pants on. I want to live without regret or fear. I want to be me, unapologetically and happily.

Going on Thirty

I recently saw a blog post titled Thirty Things I've Learned which made me realize that I'm almost thirty, have no bucket list, no idea where I'm going with my life, and no legacy to hand down to my three children (at least not any that I can be proud of since all I've got right now is about $60k in student loans). How sad.

So here I am on the cusp of turning thirty and feeling...not so much like a failure but like I could have done more before reaching such a pivotal age. My sister will be 28 this year and has visited almost every continent on Earth. I've got friends who have started their own companies or published books or just seem to always have everything together (yes, I realize I shouldn't compare myself to others because we're all on different journeys, but I'm only human).

Before anyone says that I'm harping too much on thirty or that I'm focusing too much on what I haven't done instead of on what I have done, this isn't meant to be a poor me pity party. This is just my way of getting my rear in gear and finally doing something about it. I find myself too often jealous of others or excluding myself, and I don't like those feelings. I don't want to be paralyzed by my feelings of self-doubt or lack of self-worth anymore. I want to be comfortable making plans with friends

All that to say that I'm creating my bucket list. For now it'll be thirty things I would like to accomplish for my thirtieth year. I know it will grow as I come up with more things I want to do. It'll never truly be finished which is probably a good thing because it means I'm living.

1. Lose some weight. I don't need to be a size 2 or 4, but I do need to get healthy. For me.
2. Get out of debt. This doesn't include buying a house eventually.
3. Own a home. I'm sick of throwing money at a pit that isn't even mine.
4. Make new friends. But keep the old. I need to start putting more work into my relationships.
5. Monthly dates with the hubby. But especially more work in my most important relationship.
6. Bite my tongue. I need to stop gossiping especially about a particular coworker.
7. Spend less time on my phone. My phone needs a curfew and a limit to how often I can play on it.
8. Spend more time with my kids. My kids deserve my presence more than my phone.
9. Nightly walks with the family. Around the neighborhood or to the park., this will help with 1, 7, & 8.
10. Learn a new language. Or at least brush back up on my French, but I'd also like to learn Gaelic.
11. Write every day. The book isn't going to write itself, and you'll only regret not trying.
12. Read every day. It'll help your writing, promise.
13. Take the kids on a road trip. California, New York, D.C., Florida. Any or all.
14. Take the kids to Disney. Land or World or both!
15. Take the kids to Harry Potter World. Because duh!
16. Go back to Scotland. Or move there.
17. Visit my sister in whatever country she teaches in next. I miss her too much when she's gone.
18. Visit my brother-in-law and family in whatever country he gets stationed in next. Ditto #17.
19. Visit my brother in Australia. Ditto #17 & 18.
20. Keep in touch with my cousins. I miss them like crazy.
21. Get a pen-pal. Letter writing needs to come back.
22. Write More Love Letters. Not just for people I know, but for strangers too.
23. Declutter the house. This will be ongoing and probably never complete, but a girl can dream.
24. Live with less. See #23.
25. Meal plan every week. Less eating out, more money in the pocket, less debt. Win win win.
26. Go back to cooking at home more. See #25.
27. Finish those craft projects. Seriously. There's no reason to have so many started and not finished.
28. Sing and dance with the kids, especially while cooking dinner. Fun and burns calories.
29. Finish the baby books. Little by little, you can get these done.
30. Pay it forward. Because I've been helped in the past, so I should be doing the same.

I think that's a pretty good start. Some will obviously never be crossed off because they're ongoing tasks, but some of them can be worked towards while some are fairly simple. I'll add to my list as I come up with more things I want to do.