Thursday, October 29, 2009

Austin, part two

I took this photo of Katie at a concert last Thursday. It's my favorite image from the trip. I think she looks so beautiful and so happy.

Tecate and I were introduced. I like it. And I refuse to pronounce it correctly. Te-Cate. Like a true Nebraskan.

We went for a hike the first day. It involved crossing a shallow stream. That stream turned into a raging river two hours later - thanks to rain runoff - when we had to cross it to get back. I got to swim. Katie and the dogs eventually found a better way.

Saturday, October 24, 2009


I'm in Texas.

Austin, the little blue oasis in a big red state. I saw that on a T-shirt yesterday.

It is, basically, awesome.

I just got done running, on a shaded trail that starts just down the block from where I'm staying with my friend, Katie, and her husband, Bryan. We've hiked. We went to a concert. We've eaten. We've seen a movie. Today, we're going to drink some more (wineries, out somewhere nearby in the Texas hills).

Tomorrow, already, I go home. Why do the good things in life go so fast? And the bad ones, well, sometimes, they seem to never end.

I am anxious to see my babies, though. Last night, I started thinking how I missed them. They are safe and fine and loved and being pampered by grandparents this weekend. But I still miss them, those little pieces of me.

I'm listening to this song now. "Sometime Around Midnight" by a group called The Airborne Toxic Event. I know nothing about them. But I'm in love with the song. It's about seeing a girl at a bar or a club, sort of. It's actually about so much more than that. But I can't, right now, really do its meaning much justice. So just listen to it.

I'm going back out to the Austin sunshine, to soak it up while it lasts.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Long ago and far away

There was a time, when I first started this blog, that I thought about possible blog entries just about everywhere I was.

Rye would say something cute or surprising, and I'd mentally make a note to blog about it. Or I'd meet some interesting person or see some thought-provoking bumper sticker and think to myself: Blog. Entry.

But this past year has ripped any ability for me to think about things as unimportant as blog entries totally and completely from me. While I enjoy having a blog (and please don't kick me out wonderful BlogHer ad people!), it has become one more thing I'm not doing a very good job at.

And because of the turmoil in my personal life, the blog also just seems so secondary, so trivial, so not honest. I mean, how many of you want to read about the daily arguments? The broken possessions? The broken people?

Yep. None of you.

Me either.

I want so badly for everything, everyone, to somehow be OK.

The for sale sign has gotten easier to see. The emotions most days I can keep in check.

I feel like I'm waiting for what's next. Like we are all sort of holding our breath.

I'm ready to exhale.

Right now, the rest of Nebraska is watching the Nebraska football team play Missouri. I was on Facebook a little while ago and status updates said things like "I don't understand why we don't run!" and "I can't see Bo Pelini on the sideline!" I was happy to find recent pictures my friend posted of her new house instead.

I'm not anti-football. In fact, I think people should indulge their passions and their interests as much as they can. I think adults should get what they want - within reason, without others getting hurt - as often as they can. I mean, life's too short, right? In a few weeks, I'll be 30. Rye's been asking me if he'll be at my birthday. By this, he means my party. Tonight, I finally told him I won't have a party. I envy those adults that do still have birthday parties. I'd like to. But, you know, it's just not the same as when you're a kid. Plus, I'm not sure who would come.

I've decided to begin celebrating my children's half birthdays this year. On Nov. 17 and 18, we will have birthday cake and candles - and, yes, they can make a wish (never limit the number of wishes a child can make!) - but instead of presents, we will donate some of their forgotten toys. I completely stole this idea from my childhood best friend, who is the mother I'd like to be.

And, in the midst of the looming house sale and the apartment search and the move and everything else that will come with this big, gigantic leap into the unknown, I'm looking forward to my little ones' midway birthday celebration.

I think I'll get balloons.