BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


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Getting My House In Order

So far 2020 has been the year of “cleaning up.” What does that mean for me? Well, it’s multifaceted, which is my fancy way of I’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to do too many things and not doing any of them particularly well. Let’s break that down a bit further, and see where things really stand.

Home: This is what I first think of when someone talks about getting their house in order. I suppose I’m a bit of a simpleton, going for the literal meaning, but that’s the way my brain works. My house is still undergoing a transformation. My beautifully remodeled bathroom is done, but the rest of the house still hasn’t quite recovered. I sort of think of it as having gone through a major surgery. Everything looks okay, but there’s still some healing to do on the inside. I did have friends over, so that gave me a jump start on some of my delayed cleaning up projects, but there’s still so much to do.

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Not my actual house.

Finances: I’m actually doing pretty well with this one. I’ve been reading some self-help books and following some of their “Law of Attraction” types of advice, which really can’t hurt, and things have been going well. My credit card is paid off, my retirement is funded, and my bills are paid. Now to do my taxes. UGH.

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Not my actual money.

Relationships: These have been going pretty well too. There are some far away friends I need to reach out to, and some closer to home who I haven’t seen or heard from in a while, so there’s that. Family is good, the kid is good, the sweetheart is good, and the dog… well, she’s the best.

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Not my actual dog.

Work: I’m a little scattered here. When our schedule gets a bit mixed up everything sort of falls apart, at least that’s how it feels. We’re experiencing that right now due to field trips and artist-in-residence experiences. These are all terrific learning opportunities for our kids, but they mean major schedule changes, and, this is a biggie, I have to teach math. I can teach math. I’d just rather not. I have colleagues who are experts at this, I am not. Still, we’ll muddle through. And then there’s my national board process. I need to light a fire under that.

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Not my actual plan book.

Well, as expected, when I put it all on paper it doesn’t look quite so daunting. Make a few phone calls, straighten up here and there, and review the lessons before teaching them, and I’ll be all caught up. Oh yeah, and do that little national board thing. Wish me luck, I’m going to need it.

 


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Welcome to My World

Meaning the very opposite of what it sounds like.

Let me explain. The phrase “my world” usually means the world in which you live. The actual spaces you inhabit. It also means the day to day experiences you encounter. So I inhabit the world of my neighborhood, my community, my school (workplace), my city, state, and nation. I also inhabit the world of mom of a college student, fourth grade teacher, suburbanite, dog mom, fiancĂ©e, blogger, and more.

We all inhabit multiple worlds.

Those worlds, however, aren’t what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the great big wide world which I mostly haven’t seen or visited. I certainly haven’t inhabited it. But I do welcome it, and I do claim it.

I claim it because it is as much mine as it is anyone’s. It belongs to all or us and none of us. It is our big wide world, and I’m glad you’re in it with me.one-world-week.jpg

There are eyes on my words around this planet we inhabit. Someone in South Africa reads my words, and shares her thoughts. Another in the Bahamas shares the experience of raising a young man, and we have a bond. We feel connected because something larger than each of us is at play. We may or may not have anything in common, but somehow you’ve found me, and I find that particularly marvelous, so I want to shout from the rooftoop, Welcome, Welcome to you all!


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Halloween Around My House

Quite a while ago I published a blog post lamenting the loss of some of my favorite fall and Halloween decorations. It was a blow. Really. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Then again, it probably was. Mine, in fact. I moved out of my old house and my former husband moved back in. I left behind some items to be donated, and he took them. Apparently my decor was in the mix, somewhere. Sad story, right?

Except that it has a happy ending. He never dropped off that box. He delivered all the other donations, but he figured that someday I’d want that box. He even asked me about it, but I thought he was talking about some old junky plastic stuff, not things my son had made and ceramic items that I really like and handmade decorations. I told him to just get rid of it, but he didn’t. He put it aside. He even moved it when he sold the house and moved out. Then he moved it again.

Eventually that box came up in conversation, and I told him how I regretted telling him to get rid of that stuff. He smiled. He told me he had it. I was shocked. I actually cried. I know. I’m a sap. It’s just stuff. But he was kind. He wasn’t vengeful. He knew I would want it and he kept it. He delivered it a short time later. I appreciate that, more than he’ll ever truly understand. I knew there was a reason I married him in the first place. There were lots of reasons, in fact. It was nice that he reminded me. Happy Halloween.