#32. Bottomless Pit.

I forgot about this. The cravings. The felt need/want to eat more and to eat sugar and carbohydrates.

I've picked up running again. Somehow or other I think I've lost my tennis shoes (maybe I left them in the back offices of Look Up? They are Nike, grey and orange if anyone notices...) and it's been the biggest blessing for my athletic activity. Except playing tennis. That's more difficult. Chacos ain't made for that.

A couple Saturdays ago, I had been sitting around reading, dog-park-going, and sitting all day and noticed that because it was rested my hamstring wasn't the least bit sore. I says to myself, I says, "I'ma gointa run!"

No tennis shoes...Five-Fingers it is then. My gosh, what a difference! Because of the way the Unshoe is made, it reminds you to run more naturally and toward the ball of your foot rather than the heel. That being so, the act of running puts almost all of the stress on the calves and NOT the hamstring.

Glory be! This means that even on the days my hamstrings hurts from fatigue, I can run because the pressure is on a different muscle. This means that I'm not in danger of further injuring myself.

This means I'm very much in danger of eating myself out of house and home. I love to run. I love to eat. Running means I can eat more without getting more of me. Eating more means buying more food. Buying more food means buying less of something else. Most of my something-elses are also necessities, so...

If anyone has suggestions for super-filling super-cheap foods...I'm all ears, er, eyes.

#31. Animals and Vegetables.

Animals are lovely. Look how close (through a window) I got to this fawn!

And watch this video sent me by Jim. It's a corgi. Jumping in a body of water.

Bad Day Banisher!

Now about the vegetables. It's becoming more and more obvious that I am not good in the least at keeping houseplants alive. As evidenced by the three plants of the Mizrahi's that've died on my watch and by my greeting this Monday being "Whatever the opposite of a green thumb is, I'm certain you have it." Great start to my work week.

I've heard waaaay too much about minerals and ores and blech lately to talk about them. Max loves Minecraft and me, and talking about Minecraft with me. I do not care about Minecraft in the least, but I care about Max so I listen with somewhat less rapt attention than I did seven weeks ago. 

Ella got mad at me because I told her I'd have to take a rain check for an Uno game. Her dad came and asked/told me to switch out his soap in the shower and take out his office trash as I was folding laundry and had told Ella that I'd play with her as soon as I finished that one load. 

The Mom came home and was subtly pissed about the plant dying. She was cold and cordial. I've decided that they will not make me feel bad about it. I know the ins and outs of the kids personalities and they tell me things and listen to me. I don't know how much water a plant takes or why it's so picky. I also don't care. Because nature is outside and if you want a freakin' outdoor experience, go freakin' outdoors. If you want to see a plant, go walk in a forest. Bringing a plant inside doesn't make a warmer home, and if you think it does and care so much, water the damn thing yourself.

Sorry. Kinda.

I'm frustrated and most every part of me wants to make a list of the things I now refuse to do because they are basic life skills and responsibilities. I don't care how much influence or money or intellect you have, it shouldn't be anyone else's job but your own to switch out your soap or rearrange your make-up after you use it. 

This weekend, Saturday specifically, I was so antsy. I miss Mi Casa and the real and whole conversations and framily I had there. I miss the South Carolina landscape and friendscape. I miss being around a large group of people who know what it is to work hard and then relax, really relax and take Sabbath. I want friends who read and take life equal amounts of seriously and jovially. Schedules are not my prime mode of operation, and it seems most things have agendas here. Even in the bayside town of Annapolis, people are walking fast and have a purpose. What happened to wandering? More importantly, to wondering?

Speaking of, I take back my previous review of "The Prophetic Imagination." If you can suffer through the first 60 or so pages, the rest is so far much more interesting and spirit-stirring. Still poorly organized, but loads better and worth the read.

I really am okay, y'all, just in the same tough employment and social spot as usual. 

A trip southward is desired before the weather turns though.

#30. The amount of days in (some) months.

I wasn't sure where to begin, so I changed the colour of the font. That's somewhere, right?


Summer finally came! It's boiling hot and beautiful and sweaty. I know I'm probably the only one reveling in such disgusting weather. I'd rather have to drink a thousand ounces of water and pour it back out through my pores than have to wear a thousand layers and pay a thousand dollars for heat that should come naturally.

The downside is that coffee is uncomfortable. The upside is that wine is more comfortable.

The Family now knows that I'm poking around for a new job. They asked me what my Fall plans were and I couldn't lie about them. It seems they understand but they are also being kinder than normal, possibly in attempts to convince me to stay. It's unnecessary but twice appreciated. Once because it's allowed more convenient traveling for me. Twice because it's nice to feel like they now see my value in regards to my skill with the Kids. 

I spent half the day Saturday with Aviva, Ella's speech therapist whom I can now legitimately call my friend since we've seen each other on purpose outside working hours. We just walked about downtown Silver Spring where there's a farmer's/artisan's market each Saturday. I wish I made just a tad bit more money so I could buy my vegetables at a place like that. They look so much better than the supermarket's. 

But let's be real. I wish I made more than a tad bit more. I wish I made more thousands than my years of age. 

Y'all should read A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken. It's heartwarming and heart-wrenching and a true story. I bawled for essentially an entire chapter. I don't do that. Ever. 


I've decided that my mode d'emploi for reading will follow the pattern of fiction-nonfiction-fiction and so on. I need a break from reality in order to contemplate reality. I guess I should qualify the term "fiction" though...Blah. I just mean it's simply a story to be consumed by instead of an idea or historical event/person. Right now I'm reading Surprised by Hope by N.T. Wright. Next I will read The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. Then I WILL FINISH reading The Prophetic Imagination by Walter Brueggemann (if you already have a grounded knowledge of the true definition of prophecy and how that can be a creative/disruptive force in the world, so far I'd suggest skipping this book.) Then I will read The Coalwood Way: A Memoir  by Homer Hickam, highly recommended to me by James Hart.

Oh yeah, he's still around. A lot. Which I don't mind in the least. Indeed I'd mind if he weren't around a lot. Which flashed through my mind many times while we were driving to and inside the emergency room a week and a half ago. On our way back from visiting his hometown (read: attending a party, eating good food, watching fireworks, swimming a lot, seeing and feeling natural nature) he had an asthma attack and while he was focused on taking in and pushing out air, I was focused on making sure he didn't have a torrent of tears to fight through also. My mind knew he'd be fine because it's a routine thing hospitals handle, but my heart cried out to God to keep him alive and me from collapsing in fear. 


I'd not been so frightened in a very long time. This was an old kind of fear. It was the same brand of fear that, when cellphones first came out with all those health warnings, made me want to get my brain and heart as near to the phone as my mom's was so whatever radiation she was exposed to I would also get. I didn't want to be whole if she wasn't. I didn't want to lose her. It was nearly the same as the experience with Jim, different only in the lack of codependency shown by my health and happiness being determined by hers. I did not wish difficulty breathing on myself, but I would have taken it away from him and onto myself given the chance. I guess he's important to me or something...

Yes, he certainly is. He constantly reminds me who I really am just by expecting intelligent and silly conversation from me. I do hope he does not feel shortchanged by our interactions. 

All of the technologies are teetering on the edge of death for me. Computer overheats and smells like hotglue. Cellphone turns off randomly and often won't send or receive messages. Woo.

Anyway. I hope this makes up for my month-long absence. There's little else I could do about it.

#29. Hiatus.

Hey stranger.
It's been a while.

Here's the rundown:
I'm stressing myself out to the point of headaches on account of a few things, mainly money and loans.
The job search has slowed down mightily with the ending school year.
I'm looking into getting my master's in School Counseling.
I have an amazing group of friends, including ones that care enough to check on me when I write a really depressive post (Katie Rains) and enough to listen to my vocal explosion concerning a world of newness and fear without judgment, with simple advice (Lauren Brown).
I've felt really strange recently. Odd fatigue, headaches, feeling out-of-sync and drained.
I'm going to go ahead and assume these are signs of my need for a vacation.
How convenient. I have a week off next week because the Family is visiting Family in Canada.
I like colours. And spellings colours with a "u."

I can't seem to get through a book I've been trying to read for at least a month now. It has what should be an interesting premise, but it's really not well written for the most part. I feel like it would fare better as an essay instead of a book. The author explains simple ideas too much yet skips over complexities like he's playing hopscotch. I'm 50 pages in but only because I can't stand the thought of giving up on something that has such potential. 

I need to be surrounded by nature soon, with no pressure for achieving anything. Not hiking, not viewing. Just sitting or meandering. Maybe reading or writing. Maybe, yeah, napping. And without crowds, definitely without crowds. I also really need to jump in a lake or other natural body of water. I hate pools.

I also hate the high squeal of Lily's whine. I love her. I hate her whine. 

Jim and I went frolfing on Sunday. Frisbee golfing. I'm better-than-I-expected-to-be at it. He's pretty good! Our next distinctly athletic plan is a tennis match. It'll be the opposite scenario then.

We ate at Five Guys after our 27-hole game and split a Mint Chocolate Chip Klondike bar. We've pretty much decided to counter healthy with unhealthy/nonsensical on a usual basis.

#28. Precisely.

This was the Goodreads quote of the day a couple days ago.

"The thing that makes you exceptional, if you are at all, is inevitably that which must also make you lonely." -Lorraine Hansberry

I've known for a while that I'm different, unusual. In Christianese, set apart. I am. God sees me, sees me. He's chosen me for some task, some life, some identity. I've no idea what task or what life. I've an idea of the identity. I feel different, distant from almost everyone I've ever known. Readers, you'll know if you're one of the exceptions. 

I feel alone a lot. Well, more like misunderstood and discounted. Overpriced. Undervalued. Plain out used. I've felt the unfortunate kind of grey for a long time. 

Grey is my favorite color. It complements everything, and yes, I mean complements. It can be warm or cool, the focus or the background. But people tend to make assumptions about it. Grey is not (always) morose or foreboding or practical. Grey is not (always) cold, unfeeling, uncomfortable. 

The same assumptions come with my name and demeanor for some, for about half of my acquaintances I'd think. I am a lot of things. I am not one-sided. 

I am feeling a bit gloomy and forlorn today. I feel alone in my convictions about what church is. I feel alone in my youthful discernment. I feel doubted and cheapened because of my employment and lifestyle and again, my youth. 

But I don't know what it is that makes me exceptional, not really. I have my guesses. I am insightful. I see people clearly. I know what I believe and why. I know Who I believe. My heart longs for truth and real beauty and honest goodness. Some other things probably. 

But it doesn't feel like that adds up to "exceptional."  Does it?

#27. The Oddest Thing.

I have a job interview in the morning!   !!!

It's with a Montessori school in D.C. and I'd be a teacher's assistant in their year-round program. The Montessori philosophy of learning and teaching is very close to what I want to have in a community center one day: curiosity-driven and individually-decided. Working with very tiny-ones aging somewhere around kindergarten. That's a new field for me and I'm looking forward to adding those skills to my belt o' knowledge. I was going to say "belt o' weapons" but considering recent events...better not.

Even though I just did. 

I ran my second-ever 5k on Saturday afternoon. It happened to also be my second-ever Color Run, this time in Baltimore. Who knew that city was only 50 minutes from me anyway? Crazy. I ran the whole thing and was definitely not Caucasian when it was over. I would've looked more at home on Pandora (Avatar, anyone? Anyone? Love that movie. Don't care if it's a revamp of Pocahontas because I like that one too.)

Jim and I saw "The Great Gatsby" on Saturday also. I liked it. Not enough to see it again soon, but that's fairly much attributed to it holding true to the book. Don't expect happy. Don't expect good human beings. Expect chaos and glorious colors and motions and music. Leonardo DiCaprio was perfectly attractive and grotesque in the title role. Tobey Maguire's persistent on-screen awkwardness did him a favor in his depiction of Nick Carraway. Depth of character was on the minds of the correct few people. 

We sat on a bench in the park talking until it got too chilly. Repeat on Sunday evening, after which we watched the tail end of the Survivor finale. Malcolm should've made it to the end and won everything but Cochran deserved it as well, on different merits. 

Sunday was a do-nothing day. I read almost an entire Harry Potter book. I sat. I listened to the Yo-Yo Ma station on Pandora (this time the radio website, not the planet) and relaxed. Time was irrelevant and that was beautiful. 

And Jim said "fixin' to" and that was priceless and proof that the South wins life.

The oddest thing happened to me Friday morning. I woke up. I know I was awake. God told me something insightful and clear. I started reveling in it and celebrating the communication. And then...it left. It just left. How does that happen? One second I know know KNOW and the next it was taken from me. It frustrated me all day. I eventually decided that if He wants me to remember or hear it again, He'll make that happen. I kept asking for revelation with no opening-of-doors in answer. I do hope He speaks again soon.

#26. Nothing, really.

It's been, what, three or four days since my last post?

Loads of earth-shattering occurrences have occurred. 

Not really.

Well, I did ride a ferry for the first time ever today. That counts, right? I even drove my car onto it. 

The job search is on and poppin'. I've sent out somewhere around 7 emails containing resumés and cover letters and pleas for employment. But I'd be lying to you if I said I felt hopeful about any of them in particular. 

I'm entering that phase (again) where I forget how much I love talking with kids and playing with them and having the opportunity to make wise decisions affecting them. I forget that my ideas are valid and more than that, good.

I remember camp life like it's a different reality. In some ways it was (is.) I don't think I want it back. I want the freedom, passion, and challenge of it back. I want those people geographically near me again, even though I think this time of separation is necessary. I have learned about who I am apart from the predetermined definitions of Stacy that come along with first, second, third, and fourth summers at Look Up.

I now know that I am, in truth, myself. Who I became in the context of my past is who I sincerely am. No pretext, no façade.

I do not try to hide how insecure and weak I feel most days. It just takes some insight for others to be able to see it because I don't put it on display either. [I still wrestle constantly with the thought that I am nothing special, that I am ordinary in the most plain sense, and that those who see me don't truly see me. Once they do, they'll leave and move on to other (prettier/smarter/funnier/more spontaneous/prettier) people.]

Imagine how that fear winds itself in seemingly indestructible ways throughout my relationship with Jim. It's a fight, a real fight, for me to believe him and to believe the sincerity, honesty, and integrity of his actions and words. I absolutely hate that. He doesn't deserve my selfish doubt. 

We went hiking today. It was lovely and good.