Kathryn & Carl

November 12, 2009

Feminist Quotation

Filed under: Uncategorized — Kathryn @ 12:47 pm

Before diving into the lengthy and possibly time-wasting venture of writing about headship in marriage, I just wanted to mention a little bit more about the idea that “all heterosexual intercourse is rape” that was brought up in the comments below.

Frankly, I found the concept so out of step with my own thinking that I was curious where it came from. Instead of reading articles on feminism, I decided to do really awesome searches like “feminists hate quotes” and such until I tracked down an enlightening little page.

I would never argue that there are not feminists who hate men. My question is rather why we should feel surprised and turned off by finding women who feel that way, since there are obviously lots of men with nothing but contempt for femininity too. Hear me out: I don’t support hatred, no matter who it’s directed at, but to say we can’t support one side because they’re hateful lunatics is simply not taking an objective enough look at the other side.

Anyway, on the hate page I found, there are definitely some doozies directed at men. I found the quotes highly rhetorical and sensational (“sex is the cross on which women are crucified” etc) and undeniably angry and, no, I don’t think sex is the cross on which women are crucified…. Necessarily. Of course, I do think rape is soul shattering. And, according to the NCVS, in 2006 about 600 women were raped every day in our country. So, yeah, I sorta get why some women are angry about sex and although I don’t think rage is the best motivation in the world, sitting around critiquing the feminist anger instead of the insanely high levels of rape in this country seems…. um… kind of strange to me.

Do you know what else I found? That when you find a web page of “feminist hate quotes” you find a tidy page, hosted by a concerned “Parenting Resource Center,” including quotes from published feminists with good annotations. When searching for hate quotes from men (how is it useful to look at one without the other?), I found a bunch of humor pages with sidebars showing naked women pumping themselves up and down on the floor and unsourced jokes like “What do you tell a woman with two back eyes? A: Nothing. You already told her twice.”

To be more fair, I did also find quotes like this from Thomas Edison: “Direct thought is not an attribute of feminity. In this, women are now centuries behind man.”

Which is awesome.

Finally, I also found what I believe to be the source of the “all heterosexual intercourse is rape” soundbite. It sounds kind of different when you give the rest of the sentence:

In a patriarchal society all heterosexual intercourse is rape because women, as a group, are not strong enough to give meaningful consent. — Catherine MacKinnon in Professing Feminism: Cautionary Tales from the Strange World of Women’s Studies, p. 129.

I still think that’s a highly inflammatory way of making her point, but in the context it sounds a little less like crazy feminazi speak and a whole lot more like academic discourse. She’s not saying that “all heterosexual intercourse is rape,” she’s saying that if a woman does not have the right to refuse sex, sexual intercourse becomes rape.

Personally, I think MacKinnon’s statement is too simplistic, because it doesn’t account for the time when women in patriarchal societies DO want to have sex, but she does have an interesting point.

If you can’t refuse something, how can you “consent” to it either? Sex under force or duress (whether physical or emotional) is considered rape in this country. So, yeah, I see what she’s saying, even though I think her rhetoric is too inflammatory to be useful.

Again, I certainly don’t deny that a number of women have said truly hateful things about men. I think that’s wrong, and I don’t support that. However, I find it illogical to say that when women hate it’s because their cause is misguided and when men hate it’s because there are a few rotten apples in every barrel.


November 11, 2009

I’m Tired of You, Man

Filed under: Uncategorized — Kathryn @ 2:09 pm

Yay for lunch breaks, and life in Plymouth is good.

Carl got the new Call of Duty and spent a couple of hours playing online with friends last eve. It’s pretty cool, because they can all play together—even talk, using these little ear pieces—without having to go somewhere or set up specific times… Also, getting to read on the couch in the same room is admittedly cosy.

Am 20 pages short of finishing the Susan J. Douglas book and heartily recommend. I guarantee it will irritate you in one form or another, but it will also probably make you think. Never a bad thing. The pejorative references to meatloaf DO subside, in case you’re curious, and Douglas DOES take the time to explain that domesticity and feminism are not ideologically at odds, although the media loves to pit them against each other because catfights are supposedly fun.

I’ve never been high, but the experience can’t be much different from reading a feminist book and then watching a Hollywood movie.

We saw “I Love You, Man” last night. (In case you’re wondering, there’s some pervasive crass language but no sex scenes or nudity.)

Premise of the movie being that newly engaged Paul Rudd discovers he’s become so highly feminized he has zippo guy friends and NOBODY to be his best man. The “perfect boyfriend,” Rudd (whose character is so plasticine I can’t even remember his name) makes all the girls around him swoon at his sensitivity and romantic nature, but there is a dark side to being feminine: Rudd lacks self-confidence and assertiveness at work, gets bullied by a macho coworker, has awkward verbal diarrhea issues, and just can’t connect with men.

Rudd’s quest for a Best Man leads him on a series of “man dates,” where his sensitivity often gets him taken for a homosexual (you can see this punch line coming from a mile away). Girly-Man Rudd also gets expelled from a REAL manly man’s poker night after it becomes clear that he doesn’t know the first rules of poker and can’t hold his alcohol like a man (he pukes all over the host’s face).

Fortunately, he soon meets Sydney, a laid back, aging surfer dude with a motorcycle, dog that poops a lot, and a bona fide “man cave” complete with expensive electric guitars and a masturbation station.

[I swear I’m not making any of this up. And no, they don’t use it.]

Finally, Rudd can learn to be a man. Sidney helps him find his masculinity by teaching Rudd to yell under a beach boardwalk, play bass in his garage band, realize it’s not fair to give oral without getting some in return, tell his macho coworker to F$#@ off (always a sign of enlightenment), and ultimately come to understand the truth that, despite all the PC garbage, men really  are “animals.”

You know, quality comedic entertainment.

Just about the time you want to puke, the narrative remembers Rudd’s fiance (who is also so cardboard, I have no idea what her character’s name is…. she’s played by Rashida Jones. That’s all I know). We haven’t actually forgotten about Fiance-Girl. She shows up periodically, either giving her girlfriends too much information about sex with Girly Man (I apparently missed the memo that girls like to talk about their fav foreplay moves) or rehashing the seating arrangements for their wedding YET AGAIN.

Anyway, Fiance-Girl’s unhappiness with Rudd and Sydney’s bromance eventually leads Rudd to the realization that Sidney may not be perfect after all… although, the only real problem Rudd can pin down is that Sidney can’t maintain a “real” relationship due to his childishness. Sidney doesn’t need to change (because he doesn’t want marriage anyway, he just wants to screw divorcees), but Rudd has ultimately changed for the better—while the movie showcases how attractive male sensitivity is to the ladies, the real point is how awkward, unassertive, and miserable a guy will become if he strays “too far” into femininity.

Men must be men.

Which is a concept I can rally round. I like men being like men. I just sort of question whether traits like “strength” or “thoughtfulness” can be divided so neatly on gender lines. Is assertiveness always male? Is tact always female? Sexual desire is male; compassion is female. Really? Really??

“Do you like this movie?” Carl asks, three-quarters of the way through. I make a noise of ambivalence. “There are some funny parts,” I say, trying to look on the bright side. Fortunately, Carl dislikes it too, and what guy wouldn’t? Your options for masculinity are either namby-pamby or boor. Fabulous. Sign me up.

I get irritated with all the media garbage about men needing to throw off the chains of sensitivity that women are using to “tame” their wild natures. Whatever. Carl is one of the more compassionate people I know, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a part of him that sizes up random passerbys on a “I could take him” or “I could take BOTH of them” basis. Pretty sure there are lots of men out there who are successfully managing to have BOTH emotions and balls.

It’s interesting to see “I Love You, Man” doing for men what countless other movies have done to women: given them two, equally obnoxious choices and the impossible job of blending the two into some sort of perfect middle ground.


So, no, I didn’t like the movie (which is, to be fair, crasser when analyzed than it manages to appear on screen), but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have fun watching it.

Frankly, I prefer James Bond. At least he gets gadgets, explosions, and cool cars.

[Also, in case you were wondering, Rotten Tomatoes gave “I Love You, Man” an 82% freshness rating, and the critics are calling it a “clever” and “constantly amusing” film that will make guys “who are uncomfortable with their own masculinity” squirm, though everybody else will have a good time and some men may even learn something from watching Rudd “loosen up and find his inner dude.”]

November 10, 2009

On the other hand…

Filed under: Uncategorized — Kathryn @ 12:46 am

About now we’re threatening to have more hands than Durga of Hindu fame, but I mentioned in my last post that the book Where the Girls Are is irritating whether femme or anti-femme, and I wanted to mention some of my irritations with the book in order to balance out the last post.

Two things.

Although, they’re actually connected.

The first being: isn’t it kind of hypocritical to say that women should be allowed some say in their future and then make snarky remarks about the “overly fertile” women with their arms full of babies? I mean, sure, if we were living in a culture where women were forced to have 12 children or be beaten with sticks, but isn’t the average American family size at like 1.7 children per family? Excluding cults and other sticky situations, don’t we sort of have to assume at this point that if a woman has 5 children it’s because she decided to have a large family? Hypocritical and stupid. If you want to know what I think.

Also: pretty sure that if I read one more remark about the “drudgery” of housework, one more reference to meatloaf, I’m going to be sicky on the page. God forbid an enlightened woman would actually enjoy cooking. Although, of course, I get the point she’s trying to make: women have importance beyond their ability to bake or do housework. But, housework really isn’t mindless drudgery, invented by some sadistic MAN.

For real. I would clean, do laundry, and try out new recipes whether or not I’d married. That’s what being an adult is about, right? Taking care of yourself and your living space? I’d be peeved if I was told that my ability to cook or clean defined my worth as a human being (or wife), but to throw out all housework and cooking as “drudgery” is ridiculous. It only becomes drudgery when one is either forced to uphold unrealistic standards or receives no assistance or appreciation.

So, there you have it. My two latest pet peeves with this book and feminism in general.

If you want yet another hand, though, Carl showed me this video on youtube today, a pastiche of commentators and “experts” on Arabic news channels discussing the acceptable, Koran and commonsense-approved times to beat your wife.

… for those of you who feel that feminism is pointless since women are all liberated and stuff.

November 6, 2009

And other things that make me angry…

Filed under: Uncategorized — Kathryn @ 12:26 pm

Hola, my people.

Just a brief mome over breakfast. Have already swept up, made the bed, etc, but must also toss a loaf of pumpkin bread into the oven and finish cleaning before my Things Happen. Em is coming for coffee at 1:30, and the boys should be here in time for dinner (in town for an Edgar Allen Poe themed bash at Mel’s tomorrow. Fabulous!).

Just finished the book on the Mitfords that Fig gave for my birthday. Total delight as always. I love every one of those girls, although, I can see why their father cut Decca out of his will. I probably would’ve too. An interesting person who did a lot of great things… but her bitterness toward her fam seems out of proportion somehow. Trying to give her share of the family isalnd to the Communist Party, just to annoy her parents (who wanted to retire there) is a bit thick.

Am now reading Where the Girls Are: Growing up Female with the Mass Media, a book guaranteed to annoy whether you are pro-femme or anti. Personally, One is fascinated, amused (writing is witty if occasionally heavy-handed), and just plain old annoyed at the world. The book’s premise is, refreshingly, not that the media is merely a chauvenist paradise, but that the media’s contradictory messages to women (you should be a strong, independent woman! You should have poreless skin!) have ended up in a sort of cultural schizophrenia. As far as I can tell, the book is going fairly historically, starting with WWII and ending, one suspects, with Madonna and The Simpsons.

Find myself underlining some of the historical facts and quotes. Did you know, for examp, that in the 1930s, twenty-six states had laws against married women working? Did you know that directly following the war, 4 million women were promptly fired from their jobs to “make room for the boys”? Trust me, I get that men need jobs too, but can you really guarantee that you’re not sending some single women and moms to the homeless shelter? Really? And how is that morally ok?

Or that feminists (described as women who wanted to work outside the home) were described in a bestseller of 1947 as “neurotically disturbed women”… just a few years after the government urged women into the work force with Rosie the Riveter posing as Miss America, 1943. Since feminism was “at its core a deep illness,” feminists who did have children were told to expect them to become “delinquents,” “criminals,” and “confirmed alcoholics.” Women were also expected to take complete responsibility for the success of their marriages—barring only infidelity on the husband’s part. “Bad housekeeping,” “poor cooking,” and frumpy hairstyles are all a “direct cause of divorce.” [These quotes taken from historical sources, not the book’s narrative].


The thing that really grabbed me (so far), though, was this paragraph in the introduction:

I’m not supposed to admit I’m a feminist, and neither are you, for this portion of our history evokes as much derision as what preceded it. The moment the women’s movement emerged in 1970, feminism once again became a dirty word, with considerable help from the mainstream news media. News reports and opinion columns created a new stereotype, of fanatics, “braless bubbleheads,” Amazons, “the angries,” and “a band of wild lesbians.” The result is that we all know what feminists are. They are shrill, overly aggressive, man-hating, ball-busting, selfish, hairy, extremist, deliberately unattractive women with absolutely no sense of humor who see sexism at every turn. They make men’s testicles shrivel up to the size of peas, they detest the family and think that all children should be deported or drowned. Feminists are relentless, unforgiving, and unwilling to bend or compromise; they are single-handedly responsible for the high divorce rate, the shortage of decent men, and the unfortunate proliferation of Birkinstocks in America. (7)

Obviously, there’s some careful use of rhetoric here, but she kind of has a point, no? Who didn’t grow up with that image of the crazy, atheist Feminazi? And yet, probably most of us probably would agree with a shrug of well, duh, with the basic tenets of the feminist cause: women are of equal value, equal work deserves equal pay, girls deserve an education, women should not be abused, and a woman’s future should be a matter of choice that allows for her talents and inclinations.

You know, basic human rights stuff.

And, it’s weird how comfortable we are with the beliefs and how uncomfortable we are with the word. I asked Carl last night how many women he knew, or had ever met, who were self-identified “feminists.” He said two. One was a girl he went out with shortly before we started dating. She yelled at him when he opened the door for her. The other one?

Yep. Me.

And, shockingly enough, I love that he opens the door for me. It works out well, because he loves that I cook, but I guess my point is that it’s just SAD how much we’ve allowed the F-word to be demonized.

Seems to me that it doesn’t have to be anything divisive or pejorative. Just respectful of their contribution. Kind of like: yay the Abolitionists, they freed the slaves! Yay Mother Theresa, she fed the starving! Yay the feminists, now women share equally in human rights! Yay people everywhere who are not perfect but who do their best to help people and right wrongs!

Apparently, it’s the day of yays.

Which, being Friday, kind of makes sense. Hope yours is similarly spiffy!

November 4, 2009


Filed under: Uncategorized — Kathryn @ 11:24 am

Definitely feeling a little etch-a-sketch today, and have been for the past two. Nothing colorful, just the usual sore throat, stuffy head, and sluggishness. Am fortunate I don’t have to leave the abode today—just sending out query letters and trying to settle into the new nov.

I’ve forgotten how tinny a book sounds at first—no layers, no depth. Just a few random characters trying out their voices along with boxes and boxes of information sitting about, waiting to be unpacked and make the space a little more homey, a little less bare.

I should be sending out query letters. I pulled together a query and synopsis last week, so I have no excuse for not sending them out. Just enjoying this middle place, I guess, before one of two outcomes: either I won’t sell and will feel like a failure, or I WILL sell and will be inundated with eternal rewrites and the sequel and stressed by what other people, people who don’t know and like me, will think of the nov.

My smugness is mostly make believe, it’s true.

Writing really is a ridiculous career for shy, self-motivated people, anyway. The actual writing part—before you sell anything—is fine, but I can’t imagine being anything but miserable at book signings or writing conferences. And how terrifying that anyone in the world could log onto Amazon, order your book, and feel that their opinions on your work Really Mattered.

I should have been a plumber. Either the pipes work or they don’t, and I can’t imagine there are a lot of armchair critics in that field. Though I may have an essentially rosy-glassed picture of it.

Carl’s been hugely busy getting ready for the Christmas season—always the busiest time of year at the church. We’re also heading into a new 4 week series, after a six week series (and 180 conversions). I know it’s not just about numbers—growth, sincerity, etc, being vital—but I often forget about the numbers entirely. It’s one of those pleasant shocks when Carl tells me at the end of a series or couple of months. It’s easy to be critical of your home church (talk about armchair critics…), but it’s good to be reminded of the strengths too.

Alright. Am off to eat some breakfast and get cracking on the queries. I’ve spent too much of my writing life putting off the query part. Just too doggone comfortable. Didn’t really want the hassle of being published and having REAL deadlines. But, money is a great motivator… and so are my looming thirties.

Time to get on with it.

November 3, 2009

Current Events

Filed under: Uncategorized — Kathryn @ 12:37 pm

Hope y’all had a happy Hallow. Our Saturday was a blur. Carl worked, we went to church for the 5:15, then dashed over to Phil and Cindy’s for pizza and a chance to see the twins dressed up (Snow White and Princess Ariel) and hang while Cindy handed out candy to the trick or treaters.

Carl kept an eye on the clock, and we managed to make it out the door by eight so we could drive up to GR to spend a long Sunday carving pumpkins, eating donuts, and visited the Dear Aged Despot—henceforth to be known as D.a.d.—after his surgery.

Besides looking understandably white around the gills, we were happy to see him up and around so much, quite chattable and ready to be part of the festivities. Apparently, by Monday morning he was recovered enough to also send me an illuminating bit of hatemail about my lack of filial devotion, the abandonment of my “rightful” place in the family.

Not sure.

But, I did extract a promise from Carl that if I ever undergo major surgery he will not allow me to email ANYONE for at least seven days. I’d like to be med-free before I start flogging my nearest and dearest.

I would also like to recommend not being an only daughter. I’d like to think it would’ve spared me a few scattered thundershowers and flash floods of tears over the years… I mean, before common sense kicks in and you realize that if your father isn’t even spelling your husband’s name correctly, there may be something afoot besides sadism.

But, if nothing else, life is a process of shaking it off, and so onward we trudge, putting together our November meal plan, buying storage crates for the newly organized basement unit, making plans for coffee with Em later in the week, tidying the digs, and launching into the new novel.

Today, in point of fact, is a new day. And, I have a lot of menus to put together in the next hour…

October 30, 2009


Filed under: Uncategorized — Kathryn @ 3:42 pm

Hard to believe October’s almost over. Seems like the leaves all dropped in the last day. Carl and I got stuck in traffic for 45 minutes (half an hour in one exit ramp) last night, and, apart from all the gnashing teeth, I found myself noticing the bare trees in surprise. Can’t believe it came so fast!

Anesthetized by the encouragement of my two latest readers (thanks, Em and Moy!), I’ve been plowing into the synopsis writing stage. Far from perfect, but at least it’s something. I have a list of 14 agents who handle the Christian/Historical/Sorta Romantic/Fiction genre, and will start pelting them with queries come November. If that doesn’t work, we’ll try rocks the month after.

Anyway, gives me two days off from my PUNISHING routine of getting out of bed in the morning. Honestly, darling, I don’t know how the proletariats manage. No wonder they coup. ANYONE would. [This from the lost Mitford sister who apparently resides in my head].

Had a fabulous dream last night. Was visiting my parents and happend to wander into the garage which was cluttered as always (whose isn’t?) but—and this is BEST part—also strangely full of adorable little puppies and kittens crawling all over the boxes and junk. Like thirty of them. Little terriers and spaniels and dauschunds and dobes and bulldogs and siamese and tabbies. I died…wandering about saying, “OH, SO cute! What about a pair of terriers too? Don’t you think? And how can we not take THESE!?!?” Carl, poor man, seemed to have no choice in my dream, because I suddenly “woke up” and our bedroom was in the center of this fabulous house with a set of linking swimming pools and a crazy menagerie of dogs and cats, but mostly dogs.

Utter bliss.

In a not unrelated conversation, Carl—who has been hearing horror stories from friends at work—asked me last night with some morbid hesitancy whether I thought I would also go certifiably insane when I hit menopause.

Well, I think the answer, honey pie who reads but never comments, probably ought to be squared to: Pretty sure I’ll be mad as a hatter long before forty-five.


In other news, Carl read an interesting fact to me from some Digg link. Apparently, Obama’s hit the golf course in his 9 months of presidency as many times as Bush did in 2 years. A twistable fact, since maybe Bush hates golfing—who knows—but I kind of thought it was an interesting companion piece to the other fact that Obama’s also appeared on 4 times as many talk shows as Bush did in his last term.

Fabu. I say we cut the crap next time and just elect George Clooney… Give the folks what they want, you know?

I did actually have one genuinely interesting thought today: been puzzling about the problems of prayer. As a Christian person, I believe that prayer is important and that God cares about my life today, yet how do I square that with the fact that God clearly DOESN’T answer a huge percentage—if not majority—of prayers? What about prayers for healing, others’ salvation, world calamities, starving people, etc?? I realize my question is just a branch of the “problem of suffering,” but it bears revisiting every now and then.

How do you resolve the tension between the fact that God cares for us, promises to hear our prayers, and yet doesn’t answer a huge number of them?

You know, in 200 words or less.

October 20, 2009

Post Groceries, Pre Dinner

Filed under: Uncategorized — Kathryn @ 6:01 pm

Do you what is an amazing lunch? Well, second lunch, if we want to be all technical?

This avacado. Lightly salted. Fresh from the store. Fabulous.

Pretty sure that when the woman said it was time to be healthy/eat more fruits and veggies, she probably didn’t mean sit down and eat an entire avacado by yourself. But, these are good fats, right? Also: Carl won’t touch them, so I knew I’d be eating it by myself anyway…

I did finally go to the gym this morning after zipping Carl to work. It’s about time. I’m not pregs nor have I been, so there’s really no excuse for these 10 pounds. Besides, the little happy cocktail of endorphins and seretonins and I don’t really know what I’m talking about but supposedly they frolic about and procreate after exercising… yeah, I think they work. Anyway, I had a good mood and energy for tackling the rest of my to do list of banking and shopping and tidying up (and eating left over pizza while correcting the nov, let’s not omit).

The only thing I didn’t get done today that I meant to was to get my hair lopped. Shall reschedge for tomorrow or Friday.

Was browsing at Barnes and Noble the other day and found 2 books I really want to read: At the Root of This Longing by Carol Lee Flinders and Does God Hate Women? by Benson and Stangroom, both dealing with the problematic relationship of spirituality/religion and feminism.

Am super curious and interested… though not expecting to be particularly converted to any specific point of view. But, I think that’s the heart of where feminism becomes the most significant for me, as a Christian. I know lots of women don’t think twice about it, but for me it matters what the Bible actually says about women—and how that may or may not be different from how the Church (universal) and culture thinks.

I don’t remember the context—I’m sure I had asked some sort of loaded question—but I remember when I was young my mom answering a question by saying that if she could have been born anything, she would have chosen to be born a Jewish man (runner up, she would have married a Jewish man). Because, no matter what the Bible says about there being no more male or female, Jew or Gentile, the truth is that we can all count. And, we know that for every reference to equality there’s 100 about how God loves the Jews and (wince), if air time counts for anything, seems like God likes men a lot too.

Anywho, I have no interest in a “feminist” Bible or being all mad at God, but I DO continue to find the subject interesting, and the book by Benson and Stangroom looks like it does a good overview of other major religious traditions and their handling of women’s issues, which would fab. I can’t tell you how often I’ve heard in Christianity’s defence that “at least we’re not as oppressive as the Muslims” or whatever scapegoat of the month we’re on, but it would be interesting to see if historically there’s been much actual difference.

… sigh. So many hills, so few worth dying on.

October 16, 2009

Friday, Oct 18th

Filed under: Uncategorized — Kathryn @ 4:32 pm

Got a text from Carl yesterday afternoon informing me that he’d scored some VERY nice tickets for the Red Wings game last night courtesy a job connection, so after he played a quick game with his own for fun team (which seems to result in a high volume of bruises for something so “fun”) early in the evening, we made the mad dash into Detroit to catch the last half of the Wings game.

I’d never been to the Joe Louis or… yeah, to be honest, any major game of any real sport anywhere. I don’t think anybody could accuse me of being a “sporty” person, and I have very little idea of the rules of any particular game, but there’s something super fun about the energy in a big arena like that. And our seats were nice and close, and I’ve been watching a fair amount of hockey lately and can sort of kind of figure it all out.

I think it’s also true that the associations of something are almost as important to me as the actual thing. My grandpa used to help coach a little community hockey team; my dad and brothers played all growing up. Hockey is an excuse to be together, to eat snacks, and be excited about an outcome I don’t have any control over and therefore cannot possibly be responsible for bringing to pass! So, yay hockey! It’s a win-win!

photo 2

photo 3


Good times…

I’ve also got 90% done on a first chapter for the mystery novel as of today. Now just trying to sort out whether or not the tone is right. Maybe needs more action. Not sure.

For some reason (I blame the gray skies) I just feel a little egh today. Mentally restless I think. Or maybe just a headache. Because those are the same thing.

Clearly, whatever else is affected, my decision-making sprocket is also down.

October 13, 2009

No Place like Home!

Filed under: Uncategorized — Kathryn @ 4:25 pm

Well, it was a fab weekend with the nephs in Connecticut—lots of Kipper videos, goldfish crackers, Dr. Suess, Beatrix Potter, and axes. (“I AXE it,” Reuben said, thwacking whatever was handy with his miniature hockey stick. “YES,” I said, “you are very strong. But, how about you axe the pile of laundry and not the chair? Or your brother. NO.”)

Gideon has always been a little more clingy with Carlie, so I was a little worried about how he’d do without her for 2 days, but he was quite the toothy-grinning trooper. At night, both boys were understandably more anxious, but not inconsolable by any means.

Although, sleeping about 4.5 hours per night isn’t exactly awesome for one’s own pluck and courage. When I turned on Skype the last evening and saw Carl, my eyes started to automatically well up. One would not make a very good single parent… But, really, would anyone?

Am home now, howev. Had a blissful Monday off with no goals beyond the lofty ones of sleeping, eating, and being together. Does separation get easier or harder the longer you’re together? Because I absolutely loathe it. A day is just ok, two makes me question why I agreed to go, and 3 is seriously depressive. It’s not even anything easy like talking or sex. We can talk on the phone, and when we were still dating we used to do 5 day stretches of not seeing each other, and the feeling was equally wretched.

Funny how quickly needs are created.

And he is extremely fabulous, this husband of mine. A couple of people commented on how nice it was of Carl to let me go and leave him for a long weekend like that. Truth is, that’s not even half. I got home and he’d alphabetized our DVD collection, done the dishes, picked up my script from the pharmacy, and, later that eve,  gave my tense little shoulders and arms and back the most spifftacular rub-down ever because I’d had such a “hard weekend.”

One does not deserve.

But one does very much love.

Here are a few snaps of the weekend!

100_0860Reuben’s into making faces these days. I gave him the camera and he kept asking me to make a funny face, so when I took some of him, I asked for the same.

100_0867Ru took this one of G and I in the back yard.

100_0869And this one of the flowers too! One might, in fact, call it a budding talent. If one was into stupid puns, of c.

Must dash and make din, but a final quick note on some books I’m reading lately. Feel like I always complain here about the books or movies I’m reading that are wretched, so I thought I’d compensate by giving you three that I’m finding fabulous:

  1. One Year to an Organized Life by Regina Leeds. I’m not saying you should drop everything and read it, but, unless you’re God or Martha Stewart, you probably should. Inspirational, practical, and just good fun (if you’re a compulsive improve-o-manic anyway).
  2. Finding Your Own North Star by Martha Beck. Actually, I’ve never read the book and don’t particularly recommend it—but there’s a companion workbook that was awesome. It won’t tell you the meaning of life (which is fine by me, because Beck and I probably wouldn’t see eye to eye on that anyway), but it WILL get you thinking about the purpose of YOUR life and how to achieve the things you truly want to achieve. Love it and didn’t find it to be sacchirine or annoying like most “self-help-y” books.
  3. Every Thought Captive by Jerusha Clark. This is the most (only) Christian and the least practical of the three, but still q good so far. My small group is doing it together, and while I find myself agreeing with all the principles and feeling reminded of true reality… there’s not a lot of practical advice for how to move beyond a mental agreement with the truth and a real, life-changing acceptance of it.

I’m also reading What the Butler Winked At, which is the memoir of a butler (published in 1924) who was in service to the gentry for 50+ years in Merry Olde. Funny, interesting, and eye-opening. Shall definitely be using for my mystery nov.

And, now the stew.

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