I'm Bedazzling & Junk

I'm making stuff.
Really making stuff.

I've always been a bit crafty, a bit mad scientist. But usually I have a ton of paint, fabric and strange odds and ends that sit around impatiently waiting to be used in some glorious creation.

But I've been on Pinterest a lot lately and find myself with, *gasp*, free time (not working does allow for that). I'll add some of my food endeavors here in future posts, simply because I'm proud of what I've learned and how I've snuck some efficiency into my life.

But in an effort to start blogging- and stop thinking about it, I'll do a quick post of one of my projects this morning- making my own shaving cream.

Now, I'm a shave-aholic. I do it everyday, more for special occasions. I wear a lot of dresses and not many pairs of pantyhose, so it's an important part of not being mistaken for the Chupracabra. But more than that, I just loved how it feels.
And I love to indulge in shave gel. But at 1-2 cans a month, and around $2 per can, it irritates my frugal sensibilities. It's not that much money, but it's frustrating to get a can that doesn't spray right and have all sorts of wasted product. And I don't like the Dollar Store variety, so what to do?

Well, make it, of course.

People make their own products for different reasons. Some for frugality, some for control over ingredients, some for earth sustainability. I would say that all three factor into my current at home science experiments (oh yes, there are more. Many more).

But it's time I let you in on a little secret.

When I was little, we would go to my maternal grandparents house many times per week. I would often disappear into the bathroom for huge chunks of time, baffling my parents. Did I need more fiber in my diet? Did I find a wormhole into another dimension? Was I perusing the Playboy magazines that were under the National Geographic and Reader's Digest? Um, well, there was a bit if that, actually.

But mostly I was...

Performing a cooking show in the large bathroom mirror while imitating Julia Child.

Well, truth be told, I was more imitating the Swedish Chef imitating Julia Child.

Kinda like this:


Yes, welcome to my darkness.

I would carefully lay out a complex assortment of tissue on the counter, and then proceed to add my "ingredients." Lotions, Shower-to-Shower powder, a little glob of Noxzema, some lipstick... truly, nothing was safe. All narrated as I spoke into the camera big giant mirror, and usually carefully stirred with a Q-tip.

I was many things as a child. Lacking imagination I was not.

Imagine my disappointment when I had a burnt-out chemistry teacher in high school and found that I would not pursue a destiny of mixing crap for fun and profit.

But this episode of True Confessions has a point... (rustles around, looking for point).

Oh, yes. So, I made my own shave cream today. It's not all gloriously gel-like, but I may experiment that with some ideas about that. In the meantime, behold my creations:

I've been all over the interwebs (teehee) looking at recipes and suggestions. This is just my first, experimental batch, so keep that in mind if you want to use it. I will post updates on how it works and other recipes that I try.

DIY Shave Cream

1 Cup Shampoo
1 Cup Conditioner
7 Tablespoons of Body/ Hand Lotion
5 Tablespoons of Coconut Oil

Mix all together and let sit to thicken. I bought cheap sauce bottles from the kitchen section of a big box store (.99) and this recipe filled both with just a little room at the top to allow for shaking before use. I like these bottles because I think that they will allow for easy portion control and application.

I used cheap Suave products and lotion that my mom had left at my house. I think that a thicker hand cream would be nicer next time, along with experimenting with essential oils and some gel-ish thickening agents. Many other recipes used baby oil or olive oil- I had coconut oil because I've been reading about some of the great properties it is supposed to have. This is my first time using it, so we'll see.

It's nice to know that I would be putting those metal bottles in the garbage anymore and that I made something inexpensive and useful. And I am sticking it to the man!

Legacy

The other big theme of my life is the nature of love.

Last week, my son and I tackled the question, "Why are we here?" He brought it up as we were driving to church Wednesday night. We discussed a lot of different philosophies and ways that people have answered this question throughout the ages. I emphasized our ability and responsibility to learn, to grow, to explore and honor truth. We talked about God and creation and gnawed on ideas.

But that is only part of my answer.

I forgot to talk about love.

The concept of a million faces and dimensions,

the subject of philosophers and poets,

the bane of the bitter and brokenhearted.

The Alpha and Omega, the beginning and end.

I am joined by a million in my chorus, but it has just recently dawned on me how vital this exploration is to the core of who I am. It's one of my sacred truths, a defining element to who I am.

To wrestle the angels, to look under the boulders...

We read books, watch movies, write, and enter into the messy tangle of humanity searching to understand and experience love in all of it's many incarnations.

Indelible.

Indefinable.

Essential.

The grandest, and yet infused in our very atoms.

And in this dawning of awareness, in this embracing of truth, I find an old friend who has been here the whole time, waiting for me to acknowledge what is and what shall be.

There is a greatest purpose growing in me, a parting of the curtain to a great light.

"If we ever leave a legacy, it's that we loved each other well."

I Always Wondered...

...what "stay at home" mothers did all day if their kids are in school.

And yet, I have plenty to do. It's rather amazing. And I haven't even been here to capture some of the highs and lows.

It's warmish again here in Texas, for the moment, and it's overcast and spitting rain at the moment. I need to clean and prep lunches and dinners for the week. I'm composing a thank-you letter for an interview. It's the third I've had for a nonprofit, and if I progress to the next level there will be at least two more. I haven't applied for many jobs and I am holding off in hopes that this job will be "The One." The pay & benefits would be an amazing blessing- it would change many aspects of our lives. It will be a big job, hard work, lots of responsibility, lots of hours. But important, and potentially life altering in mission and scope. I am cautiously optimistic, but it can be scary to care so much again. So I feel very zen at this point about it all. I feel like God has a plan and I'm doing my part- so I feel good about just letting it unfold. I am not going to push my will on this and I will trust that either outcome is the way it should be. This does not release me from the prep and follow-up that must be done, it just frees me to know that the work is not in vain, regardless of the results.

There are two concurrent themes of my life that I am working on right now. The first is based on the book I just read- The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. I saw it posted on a MeetUp group I had joined online and it prompted me to buy it and join a book club that met yesterday.

It was interesting to try on my brain again. It's been rather dormant. As has my socialization skills. It's nice to see neither is broken, just rusty. I'll keep greasing the wheels and explore my truths at the same time.

Anyway, back to the book- I enjoyed it. It was simple, but there were many places that I found immediate applications to my own life. I am committed to continuing my growth in this area and will share more as it develops.

One of the quotes that resounds with me from the book is:

The days are long, but the years are short.

As a parent, I found this especially striking and it rang the truth bell deep inside of me.

Just Remember

I was putting the laundry in the dryer this morning and had to smile when I grabbed the dryer sheets. While I usually get generic, I found a good deal on some Snuggle last week.

My grandmother loved the Snuggle bear commercials.

She's been gone for over 21 years, and yet my brain still holds on to that fact.

I still miss her. I still wish she were here.
I wish she had been at my wedding, and had met my son.
She never knew me as an adult, and I often wonder if I would be the same if she had.
Would I make her proud?


And even as I typed these words, this song came into my head:

This Minute

Yikes- I totally skipped posting in September. I started a few posts and thought about more... but never published. I have so much to say about so many different things that I end up staying quiet. And I have been very quiet lately. There were some days lately where I didn't speak from 8am until 3pm. Solitude and silence are allowing me to explore.

So just a quick update as the dappled fall sunlight streams into my side windows. Life is good. I feel the hand of God on our lives. I'm not sure what direction we are going, but I'm trying to be still and learn. I have a lot more to say about that, but that's for an even quieter time.

We started the day with church and will end it again today with church. This amount of church is new to me. Spirituality is not new. Faith is not new. But the active dedicated of a large amount of time to the rigors of religion is, and there has been a bit of reckoning with that. Reckoning is good. Reaching into myself to pull out what is inside, and examining it, is an important aspect to by journey.

Spent some quality time at the pumpkin patch and exploring some rural areas today. We are home for about an hour and I might sneak out to the pool or hammock for a quick nap after I eat some great leftovers.

There have certainly been some rough stops and some things that have caused great fear. Yet, that is truly life. We buck up, we survive. And in the meantime we enjoy the whole crazy dance.

So nothing too deep today, but just a moment in time.

Off to have more.

Musical Notes

This song has haunted me all week- I have to get it "off my chest" so to speak.

Owning All My Truths

When I was 11 and my parents divorced, I learned the hard way that you lose friends when you show your true self, with all your flaws and brokenness. When you are sad and unsure and insecure and depressed and questioning the world. Kids don’t like to see that chaos. And neither, sometimes, do adults.

Oh sure, you say, that’s not how “true friends” are.
Not adults.
Sometimes, however, they are.

And I certainly say that now with a more accepting and forgiving heart than I had at 11 while watching friends blow me off as I struggled with my collapsing world. We all have our own journeys and sometimes we can’t walk fully with another the way they might need us to. I’ve been let down and I’ve let down others that I truly cared about. And as I have navigated the waters of being codependent, I’ve worked with boundaries and not feeling responsible for taking on- perhaps even feeding on- the need to be needed, to be the knight to sweep in and try to “save” everyone. I’ve let relationships fall away that I didn’t feel were mutually healthy and I’ve patched together a few that I know are a bit feeble, but that I’m not ready to give up on.

I do have close friends that I’ve let in, that I let myself be totally honest with and with whom I trust and relax enough to show myself in all my multifaceted glory- the good, the bad, the ugly, the stream of profanities. And I am still the kind of gal that wears a bit too much of my heart on my sleeve and speaks out a bit too freely. I’ve gotten better over the years- being a fundraiser will teach you that. Or maybe it’s worse. That’s an interesting debate. Is learning how to function in society, to conform to expectations a sign of maturity or simply defeat? I could argue it both ways, but then I am someone who dwells often in the multiple shades of gray. Not unsure, just comfortable knowing that truth and knowledge are fluid and subjective.

On Facebook I have a lot of friends who like to read my happy or snarky comments and observations. It makes me happy to make them happy. It’s a varied group of folks, from professional contacts and long-ago elementary friends with just the merest sliver of connection, to the closest of friends and family. I can be silly and explore my flair for the absurd and dramatic in 420 characters. There are hints of my life, hints of my ups and down, but they are like glimpses into a viewfinder. As well they should be. As protective as I can sometimes be, I am also quite guilty of the “overshare.”

But I promised myself that this blog would be for me. For my true self. My honest expressions. To please no one. To only try to explain and explore my own psyche and not play with and hide behind silly words. To be a place of seeing who I am. A place that I can change my mind and remake myself without having to defend it to anyone. And someday a place that I can share with LittleMan so that he can know a version of me that he wouldn’t otherwise.

Today was hard and I am writing here to explore why that was. It was the third day of school for LM. The routine is already set and is successful and comfortable. After I dropped him off I felt overwhelmingly lonely. Since I love my quiet introverted time, the feeling still surprises me. I know that it rationally makes sense- I have been uprooted again, to a place without friends or family. I don’t have a job or colleagues yet and I am also unsure of exactly the path I want to take. I know that these things will change with time. But once again, I am not going to shove down my current feelings. I am not going to try to wipe them away without feeling them fully. I get so sick of our society wanting that. “Get Well” as soon as you are sick; “Smile” as soon as you are sad. Let’s allow ourselves to examine the dark even as we walk towards the light.

So I’m not going to fake it, even as I know that the feelings are fleeting and soon will pass.
“The night can revel in utter darkness for it knows the dawn is near.”

As I drove to Starbucks this morning, I chewed on the lonely.
Examined it.
Tasted it.
In many ways it felt almost like the heartbreak of a break-up. I found myself thinking, “Aw, this was the special place we went to last week.” And “LittleMan would love this car wash.” And as songs came on the radio, I felt that familiar strain of it being “Our Song.” Songs that we like to sign to together. Songs that reminded me of him.

How strange, I thought, that these feelings feel so close to that of a break up. But instead of quashing the thought, I explored with it.

I carried this child in my body. Grew him. Nurtured him. Accepted him as the gift that he is and daily he acts as my proof of God’s love. I love him more deeply, more completely than any emotion I’ve ever know. I did not get to spend as much time I would have liked as he has grown. I had to work, to support us all. I don’t get that time back. And now this huge milestone reminds me of it. And reminds me that this is (maybe, could be, probably) my only chance for these moments.
My only child.

I feel deeply. I examine the world intensely. And here, at least, I will not paste a sticker on it and pretend to be otherwise.

I am proud and excited for my son. I am happy that I made the first day so great that he keeps saying that he wishes every day was the first day. I am excited to get to participate in his class and school. In fact, this job search that I am going to reluctantly embark on will be different from any I’ve ever taken. I am not looking for a specific job this time. I am looking to maintain my most important job of being Mother and filling the rest of the space with whatever else I will be.

Perhaps that too is a part of this feeling of regeneration. Facing the fact that I have no more excuses to hold me back from seizing a bit more life. No one ever said that the phoenix didn’t experience grief as it burned to ash.