Not going to do it. Give Up.

It has occurred to me lately that I need to make a new list. (right? shocking.) But this list is in fact, something new, to me.

I need to make a list of things that I’m not going to do. And feel contentment seep in, with the release of the niggling feeling that I should be doing these things.

For instance

  • I am not going to minimalize. Really, I’m not going to have an empty countertop. I like the look of it, but I like to ‘use’ space, see my things, and have everything close at hand. My sink will not, in general, be empty, or shiny.
*in making the list, i’ve got to be careful not to close doors i want to keep open. I mean, I could say i’m not going to win the lottery, but hey, if i start buying tickets, i’ve got the same odds as anyone. So it does not go on the list.

2. I am not going to have more babies. (yeah, boy! that means something relatively new and fantastic in sex. so fantastic.) I can buy baby clothes without having my breasts leak. And, I can release the need to look like i’m 27, and I can welcome the belly that gave me the babies. (ok, well to be totally transparent, i’ve got too much welcoming going on, and need to take alittle better care of myself, food wise)

3. I’m never going to be a party girl. I’m never going to be in a large group of people who are all drunk, because I will always have the freedom to leave, and leave i will. I will never be a party girl. I will always leave early. I probably don’t want to come to your cookout, because I’m scared a little. (this one tears at me, still, sadly, but it is completely and utterly true. never.) I’m not going to be the jolly girl that everyone loves. few will get to know me, because I don’t talk about myself. (except here.)

4. I might not be married to someone for fifty years. I’m not sure this one really matters, but it is a growing acceptance. I’m not giving up on finding the someone, but marriage and longevity are less and less likely. I can be okay with that. There is much in my life. GOD, i am pretty damn sure I don’t want to get married again. Can you imagine that?

5. I am not going to homestead. I’m not going to survive on food that I have grown myself. I love that I canned tomatoes last year, but guess what? I never used them. I refuse to be making more waste for the world. I refuse. And God Knows how much I don’t want to preserve kale, or eat a thousand pounds of zucchini. If the zombie apocolypse comes, I have enough refried beans and chicken broth to last me a long long time. I will also eat my dog. But don’t tell him.

  • 6. I’m not going to be the ‘it girl’ for everyone. Some people will love my breasts but give a toss for me. Some people will think I’m aloof. (idiots) or maybe judgemental. (clearly not.) HA. But some people are just not going to get me and some people are not going to care one way or another.
  • 7. I’m not going to make flawless use of technology. I just don’t care enough. So its going to look like this, and my ocd friends, I’m sorry.
  • 8. I’m not going to stop making mistakes. I’ll never be perfect, flawless, or even ‘all-put-together’. So there. I give up.
*Another thing that is funny is that i find resistance in the oddest places. I am not going to do cartwheels? I don’t want to type that one, because maybe…. how odd, and somewhat ludicrous, but really. Also, Katherine Hepburn pants… why can’t I? notice and move on.

What can you give up on? This is my new ‘ultimate coaching’ stratagem… GIVE UP. GIVE UP.

🙂 love love,



woman wearing brown leather chunky heeled shoes
Frankly, I could swing these, in petite. Photo by Dellon Thomas on



I wrote in my group this morning about how tough I find it to finish things.

I clean the sink and leave one mug behind. I always leave a part of the lawn unmowed (unmown?), after my interpretive mowing session.

I nod at my personality that does this, it has been a long time I’ve known myself after all. the enjoyment of an entirely empty sink, so far, delayed eternally. I know it is not for everyone and some people are actually crying at the thought of it, right now, as I type.

Its NOT avoidance, believe it or not. I have come to think its a recognition of the futility of ever finishing the job. There is no finishing of the dishes, there is no ‘well, look now, that job is DONE’. There will be a plate, a mug, a cup, within minutes.

The toaster will continue making crumbs, because that is its JOB. I’ve long held a suspicion that the inanimate objects around me are not in fact, insensate.

This might be the final moment for me, when you, dear reader, realize I am a nutbag. I have long tried to keep this from you. long.

I have a relationship with my toaster. I love it. It brings me toasted things so happily. I love my kitchen table. It gathers my children to me, and holds the stains of a million art projects. I am not that friendly with my stupid dryer, because he’s a bitch, and won’t dry my clothes fast. (definitely male-all that heat and exhaust)

(it is of further interest to me, that i do NOT personalize my phone. for all the time i spend with it, it is nothing but a tool, and not a good one, and I know it.)

There is very little in life that finishes. –It just morphs. Relationships live on in memory, in my case, not always happily, but sometimes. Love and loss and grief just stay, in various forms. Says I.

Kitchen table, in all its glory.

December 28 : dishes on my mind

Cynthia Lee again. Notice. Take a breath… Look again.

First look:

  1. Cat hair-dog hair- my hair, in tufts and corners and everywhere, despite all the sweeping, all the vacuums, all the breezes.
  2. The kitchen floor is wide planks, but fake, so tricky… some sort of foolery of tech and plastic. And everyone is fooled.
  3. My favorite rug is in the kitchen. It is still shocking to me that not everyone has a rug in their kitchen. warmth? It is so many reds, and blacks and diamonds and strange shapes, and, I think, pink geometry.
  4. The mismatch of chairs at the table, two from childhood, one from the beach house, hearts still intact, and one purchased during marriage. One of the marriage chairs was disassembled on Christmas day by a large and growing teen boy. It was not intentional and now I have to consider if I want to reassemble it, or if the initial break renders it unreliable forever. Isn’t there a lot in there?
  5. Two nativity scenes on the kitchen table. And santa. I’m not really sure my kids know the Christmas story. There is also a saint fauci candle. No connection.
  6. The kitchen sink is full of last night’s pans, roast chicken and mashed potatoes and stuffing. It was delicious. So very much. And still. Pans. Sigh. I’ll get to them soon. Before lunch, at the very least.
  7. One of the lights is out above me. Also will get to that.
  8. The chair I’m in has good bones, but part of the seat has fallen through. And I’m looking for a replacement but I’m not even on the list at this point and I recognize a problem. But still.
  9. The wood bin is full, a sign of plenty and fullness. And it leans against my last vision board (man I hate that term, but it is what it is. ‘manifest’. Ugh.) and on the board is this “process is the point” . and man, it is, for me, all the points.
  10. Colors are everything for me. The colors here are just nonstop and so damn pleasing.
  11. There is a puzzle half done nearby of toy animals, in the center of the plant area, near the tiny ‘village’ that we put up every year. I think it will be the first to go, that village, because more plants. More plants are needed. more green, more life.

Round two :

  1. There is still much detritus of Christmas around. A shiny red ribbon under the table, a roll of washi tape, the corner of wrapping paper gone white on its underside.
  2. The chairs pushed back and out from after the meal. The kitchen entirely abandoned after the eating, which explains the still-full sink.
  3. I reach out to the radiator constantly, the mild burn of the cast iron painted silver is so pleasing on some level, so entirely fulfilling. Proof that some things work.
  4. My side table overflowing with books, and I’m back lately to having a hard time focusing on reading. The empty water bottle, the almost-empty coffee mug. A pen, a stack of tarot cards and a phone.
  5. The black dog who trundles in to sleep on the beautiful rug, spending his days moving from sleep spot to sleep spot. Who is to say he is not right? I took him to the beach yesterday for the first time. He was not sure what to make of it. He is not well trained off leash, let it suffice to say. Or on leash, for that matter.
  6. Santa is tucked in behind saint fauci and the nativity. It is sort of confusing, this world, but then, not at all.
  7. On the toaster sits a coffee cake. Bet it is all stiff with the air. Again, I will get to it.
  8. I have a reading lamp next to my chair, that is wound by a light up garland of false wisteria. And one of paper stars. So much. I have so much.
  9. The cat is staring into the bush again, watching the birds and occasionally cackling. She so wants to snuggle with the dog but her distrust makes for many many entertaining events. Her distrust is misplaced. I think he would love it. The animate is filling me up this time around.
  10. I see the butter dish over there. I know it is empty because mashed potatoes were made. Greasy washing coming up.
  11. The underside of kitchen chairs is visible to me from here. I can see the next one to go. I need a fix-it man.

–my mind is too much with me, my friends. it is time for a cleaning, then we will see what appears. yes?

fingers crossed.