We survived the move. But I don’t want to do it again for a long time (I’ve done it 10 times in the last 6 years).
After I got over the initial shock that our new residence seemed reminiscent of the ghetto-meets-the-color-saturated-Sesame-Street-brick-apartments, I am so happy to be in Iowa City – it is a refreshing change of pace. Throughout the move, though, I think there has been some unconscious stress underlying everything, due to the recent life changes. And everyone deals with stress differently. I’ve found that my way of coping is through the making of bread.
LOTS OF BREAD.
I purchased an amazing bread book (Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day) and I’ve made countless recipes from it thus far. I’m sure if I would have glanced in the mirror at some point, I would’ve seen a crazed look and bits of dough stuck amongst my red curls.
No more moving for a while, please. I don’t have much flour left.
And not just my need for moving, but my need for blogging has lessened. I think the reason that I was such a faithful “blogger” before, was because I felt so disconnected from the outside world and this was my only means by which I could communicate with others. Being tucked away in the office for that amount of time with not much to do caused me to go a bit goofy in the head. There were a few things that kept me sane, though. One: I would buy a variety of low-fat pop tarts, take them out of their respective boxes, and place their foil-wrapped goodness in my desk. That way, it was always a surprise when I would grab one for my pick-me-up breakfast/lunch/snack (a surprise in this case meant it was either a brown sugar or strawberry pop tart…note to Pop Tart corporation: you need to make new low-fat flavors). As sad as it sounds now, it was a small delight in my day.
Secondly, writing down my thoughts for the day was another act to keep my mind stimulated.
However, now that I’m actually surrounded by real people and having face-to-face conversations, I crave writing less and less (or frankly, I just don’t have the time to think about it). I feel more alive. I want to continue writing, as it still serves as a great release, but I just know it will happen with less frequency. It is no longer a necessity, but a delicacy.
I’ve filled my life-void with cooking, wandering the city, and running. I run for a couple of reasons. Like most women, I have insecurities about my weight (although I know that rationally, it isn’t necessary). Struggles aside, I run because it is such a spiritual experience for me. There is just something about pushing myself, running just a bit more – to the stop sign, to the next tree, and so on. Once I’ve used up my energy (or until I realize sharing that frozen pizza with Brad an hour ago wasn’t the best idea), I walk the rest of the way home. But unlike other times when I’m walking around (which usually consists of just trying to make it from point A to point B in time), I really relish the moment. As I’m gasping for breath, I no longer just have time to look at my surroundings, I make time. I get caught up noticing the details on the brush beside me, or looking ahead at the water tower tucked behind the hill of trees. IT IS SO BEAUTIFUL. Why am I not taking advantage of this more often?
One reason why a red-head should avoid the outdoors for long periods of time: sunburnnnnnnn. I received my first doozy of the year. I’m used to it, but because of my laziness, I have an extra special sun-kissed look this time. I sometimes don’t have the patience to rub in sunscreen, especially if I’m already heading out the door, so I have bits of bright red streaks and blobs in the places I missed on my shoulders, arms, and chest. AWESOME. I love freakish burns. I’m patiently waiting until it turns into freckles and blends in with the masses…
Speaking of the masses…I’d like to rant about Oprah. She is like the ultimate Queen Bee of the Masses. Like a queen bee, I truly believe she could start killing her “worker bees” and no one would question it. She has become THAT powerful. I don’t get it and most of the time she doesn’t bother me, EXCEPT WHEN I OPENED THE MAILBOX TODAY. I about had a heart attack. There she was, footloose and fancy free, on the cover of the magazine that touts her own name. I thought it was a cruel joke at first, until I realized that I had received four free subscriptions for completing a survey recently. I was so happy that one of them was Time magazine, that I didn’t glance at the others. Apparently, O magazine is one. I briefly leafed through the articles, taking note of everything that the magical Oprah wand touched (subsequently turning it into marketing gold) and then I through it away. I’m now just a little bit scared to open my mailbox, knowing that sometime during the next month her perpetually smiley self will greet me again. I think I’m starting to develop an Oprah-induced mailbox-opening phobia.
