Wear And Tear

I tend to write my best stuff when I'm going through some of my most volatile emotions and life questions. Today I'm feeling the wear and tear of things. For any Sex and the City fans, if you recall Charlotte getting all worked up in the shower about things in her marriage and sex life and having to bow to the whims of others, I'm feeling that sentiment hardcore today.

This won't be a complaining diatribe about how everyone sucks. Every relationship has the give and the take. Everything is accommodation, expectation adjustment and compromise. Every so often though, I just get worked up Charlotte style and feel as though I want to quit on life and hide.

Today's frustration is born of mostly work-related things, but considering this is still the best job I've ever had, I tread lightly. See the thing is, I have the trait of being hyper-organized, if I'm being totally transparent. It's something I come into naturally, and it is often used at the advantage of everyone, and at my wits end. 

I arrange the play dates, I plan the birthday parties, I invite the people, I gather friends for dinner. I set the times for moms night out, I book the flights, I restock the house of necessities, I wash and fold the laundry. I organize the school papers, I figure out carpool issues, I book the hotels, VRBOs, arrange the sitters and schedule family photos. It's exhausting actually. But whatever, I'm a planner.

Because of this attribute, it is impressioned upon me that I adopt the plans of others and effectively become a physical google-reminder notification in some cases. I'm the one that checks in, harasses kindly but just to the point of obnxiousness, and puts together every damned life event, or so it feels today.

If we are invited to a wedding, I do all the research on where and book the place to stay and how to get there, and I make sure everyone has proper fitting attire, I get the shower gift, the wedding gift and ensure that we arrive on time. If we host a dinner, I will do the bulk of the shopping, arrange the timing, kid food, activities and make sure the house is spotless.

This isn't to say I'm a one woman show. The husband cooks and helps often, but as far as taking the forefront on arranging? That will always be my "thing." I don't know if he even has the sitter's phone number and he's never asked her to babysit. That is always me. I am commissioned to solve the lack of planning ability of others and work around it, and it tests me to no end.

This morning was a reiteration of yesterday of the reach out, no response, the follow up because I needed a timely response, yet was still left with no response. Finally I had to call and the first question I got was, "Why did you wait so long to call?" Can you feel my eyes roll through the blog? Two texts and an email, and the call was the last ditch effort and then I'm asked why the call wasn't first? My question is...why must I chase what I need to facilitate my day?

Have you ever felt like your world is just pure chaos of the whims of others? I feel the wear and tear of this often. Some days I wear it like a cape and it makes me super-mom or epic wife and best friend to all. Other days I have my selfish narcissistic moment of ,"Well what about me?"

My time with my husband is always on his days off. My mom helping me with anything is almost always by her schedule and not mine. And like a fantastic doormat, or a typical Rachel move, I just work around it. There's a weird line between being flexible and being a pushover.

I don't feel "preyed upon" for my pushover status but I truly feel as though, after going through such long periods of time feeling unheard or having what I was saying misunderstood or downplayed, I just became so quiet that I started saying "yes" to avoid the conflict or explanation of why I said "no."

Just a year ago I was in this weird place where I was volunteering a lot. There were a handful of times where I could say with confidence I actually got something out of it, but mostly I noticed how much disarray there was with logistics and the events were rarely kid friendly. It became this huge stress and burden for me. There were times when I was expected to participate and I'd drive to the next county over and then find out I wasn't needed or there wasn't a place for me. It was doing a number on me mentally. That's when I had to learn the art of boundaries.

It has taken me years in therapy to get this whole boundaries thing. Sometimes I am clear as day with the boundaries stuff and I still am pushed over. It's takes it's mental toll and there you have that wear and tear factor again.

Sometimes it wears on me that I have to be so proactive or overactive in relationships and social things just to maintain them. Sometimes it tears me apart how hard I work with little feedback. On the other hand, boy does it completely alter my perspective in a positive direction for recognizing the people in my life that repair rather than wear and tear.

I have friends that are just healing forces. They completely share the give and take and make our friendship work well. But I can't lie, they aren't all that way, and that's actually okay. Not only do these exchanges give me lessons in boundaries, but I have gone through life phases were I couldn't muster the give and take, and I wasn't the best reciprocate-er either. 

The wear and tear of feeling so responsible for arranging the "stuff" of others can vary. I've had my low down, hateful days filled with swear words and anger about why is it MY problem and why is it MY fault and why is it MY responsibility? Sometimes it can feel dark and hopeless holding onto that internal ultimatum of if I don't do it, who will? Such as, if I don't text that person, they probably won't text me and if they won't text me are we still even friends? Or if I don't set up play dates then the kid won't have play dates and if the kid doesn't have play dates, she'll be grouchy and take it out on me. It can turn into a weird and vicious mental cycle, fast.

Wear and tear is normal. We all have good and bad days. I've definitely been more aware of what it all culminates to, however. Yesterday my anxieties around communication left me hangry and irritable. This morning's exchange had a similar flare up. My antidote is blogging, getting lost in work, and many many reminders that low expectations and taking everything as it comes is all I can do.

Sometimes you have to be the alarm for your husband. Sometimes you have to shop with your mom for things for the granddaughter when it is insanely inconvenient for you. Sometimes you have to do extra for a friend, even if they might not return the favor, but because that's just who you are as a friend. It's all within the wear and tear of this thing called LIFE. A dresser might have some chips on it but it still holds the clothes, so it's still functional and essentially fulfilling it's purpose. Perhaps this can be my alliteration for today to push me though. Heck it might even work for you too!

Support Systems

Our couples therapist said in one of our first sessions that what happens between two people is one may send out receptors here and there in an effort to grab attention or convey what you need and the more those are ignored or not picked up on, the less the person sends them out. I think of this often, even with friendships.

Sunday we went to church and in the sermon there was mention to how Social Media contributes to depression and anxiety but also, we are so connected with technology, we have infinite resources at our finger tips, and we feel more isolated and alone than "back in the day."

All of this is crappy, right? It's about support systems. I have this habit of when I'm having an emotionally rough moment or anxious, depressive whim, I often will reach out to someone and not admit "hey I need someone right now," but instead maybe just send out a nice note. This happened this morning where I just wanted to wish a good month, good day, and remind someone, "You're awesome!"

I wouldn't even say I'm in a bad head space, but I've had so much thinking and "dealing" to do with life's various things that maybe I just wanted to instigate a check in? Ironically, and to my great amusement, that reach out has received no response although the recipient has recently viewed my Instagram story. This is life now.

I laugh at this because our support systems are systematically breaking down. I was watching an HBO dramatic series that I'm particularly into and there was a young girl who had an incident of abuse come up with her high school boyfriend but she insists he still loves her. She sent him over 300 text messages unanswered and she was mentally spinning out and declining. She called a girl buddy who was in the midst of retaining the attention of a boy and basically got blown off. The girl, upset, asked if her friend could blow off the situation because she "Really needed someone right now." Of course in this high school scenario, her friend chose the boy over her plea, but I thought to myself, damn, that poor girl is just sinking and has no one. What a shitty feeling, right?

I am that person who if I'm going to feel alone, I want to actually be alone. I don't like feeling alone next to people. I'd rather just be alone on a mountain top feeling my feelings. We don't always have access to mountains though.

First, I want to say that uttering the words "I need help," in any way shape or form is courageous and can be incredibly difficult for people. Second I want to tell you that most people don't say that exact phrase to attempt to convey that message. For me I've said "I'm having a rough day. I'm feeling really meh. I'm in a bad head space." Sometimes it's, "I'm hanging in there," or "I'm okay." 

When I say the hanging in and okay things, sometimes I'm waiting to figure out if I am really those things, or I need to dive into some stuff with someone a bit. I have two go to friends that I message immediately when I'm not feeling myself, both of whom live thousands of miles away. It's harder to reach out to someone closer sometimes.

Often I will have a feeling or be needing a little extra support and want to revisit a friendship that has dwindled because that's the stuff we used to talk about or whom I felt comfortable with in similar situations. Again I usually revert to sending out a nice, happy message and testing the waters but seeing if it warrants a response.

It can feel like your support system is dwindling or non-existent sometimes. I personally struggle with not wanting to be Angry Ali or a "Debbie Downer." Who wants to be around Captain Complain all the time. There is a fine line.

On my worst days I feel as though I give out so much support but receive only small amounts in reciprocation. On those bad days, I try to look harder, maybe dig a little deeper.

For a truly honest and revealing moment, I will say this. For this year of 2019 I've had to put myself lower than last at times and suck it up buttercup and be super supportive of the husband. There have been times where I have felt as though I had to do this kicking and screaming. I have felt more often than I'd like to admit that this support is a one way street and not reciprocated much, if at all. But then I remember he unloads the dishwasher so I don't have to. He takes my car in on his days off so I don't have to waste a Saturday at the dealership. He puts his laundry away without me nagging him.

There are all those amazing quotes and cliches about the little things being the big things. They are completely true. More often than not, it's not about NOT having a support system but reminding yourself on how your tribe offers you support. With some friends it's funny memes or Instagram story checks. With other's it's texting for an afternoon or a phone call. Maybe a girl friend buys me a coffee or takes me out to eat. It's all there, little and big, but requiring attention.

Things get foggy, especially when you're stressed or stuck in a Social Media rabbit hole. I had to level with my husband just last night and outright admit, LIFE IS HARD. It is! There is no way getting around it. You have to make what you can count and take everything as it comes.

With information at our finger tips, support systems are EVERYWHERE. I remind myself of this daily. It could be, a new book, a coloring book, a moment of retail therapy, some online Scrabble or Solitaire, a text to a family member or friend, an Instagram positive affirmation post, a meme! It could be a Pinterest board or researching a dream vacation. It could be finding a new therapist, finding a crafting class, and so on and so forth.

My hope is this, and I hope this for myself and all the people I love, but don't stop sending those receptors. Translate your "rough day" into "I need someone" and don't let up. I don't meant send 300 plus text messages to someone clearly ignoring you, I just mean, text the reliable friend or treat yourself to a new purse and keep those support systems intact! 

This planet is filled and feeling lonely when surround by people is the worst, in my personal opinion. Grab a support system and go. I know this can seem easier said than done, but I had a friend remind me of this recently and I post a lot about it on my Instagram. I've written other pieces pertaining to it as well. CHECK ON YOUR PEOPLE AND CHECK IN WITH YOURSELF. Like the 60's or 70's tune, "Reach Out!" If you're not being responded to by a few people and you're sinking, keep reaching out and revise your verbiage because "I'm having a bad day" and "I need your help" can have worlds of different connotations. 



This is my Wednesday Wisdom and I hope it reads well! 

Fire Alarm Day And The Blogging Lull

First of all, I just realized I am nine months into this 2019 pilgrimage and I'm feeling pretty okay about that. I've had some really great pieces flow, I've had some duds. This is writing! I've had to set my boundaries on things. I didn't want to make this a chore but rather something to facilitate growth.

My daughter just started the plague of homework and they require daily reading. No big deal, right? I just hate that it's a CHORE. Reading should be fun. I remember being her age and being annoyed that my Goosebumps and R.L. Stein books didn't count for summer stuff. Instead I had to read Fahrenheit 541 and The Giver and other books I had no interest in. She has some range of choice so there's that. She usually tries to read something she has memorized. Never a dull moment.

Currently I'm in my office waiting for the fire department to come test the fire alarm system. This is LOUD and goes on for HOURS. It is horrible. I have headphones and I'm ready but it's not exactly the best day. I will most likely leave with a migraine from the noise.

With all of this in the background and life in general I'm in a very "take it as it comes" kind of mood which isn't necessarily a bad thing. I give myself constant reminders that there is only so much I can control, only so much I can do. A great deal of life indeed is rolling with the punches.

I struggle a lot with communication. I feel as though I ask often for more communication from people. I had a friend a few years ago and we joked about the "text abyss." You could be in a conversation and then life and distraction happens and you don't pick up your phone for 6 hours or something. I always say "Just tell me that you're super busy and we'll talk later, and then I will know and leave you alone." Being left hanging feels yucky.

Now as a mother, I totally get how weird text conversations can be. And also how unattached people can be to their phones much like the good old days. I'm that person who mentally responds but never types it or forgets to hit send. I also won't answer a text after 9 because I'm usually asleep. Like fast asleep.

I just never like leaving people feeling like "Uh, where did she go? I just asked her about the movie we were trying to go see!?" Sometimes I think as an overly anxious person I over-anticipate the anxieties of others. This could be seen as being a wonderful empath. Mostly, it just means my anxieties are borrowing yours and they are running wild and freely together. It can get weird.

I kind of felt like the blogging lull has set in. I don't think I'm running out of topics, but some days I'm more amped for it than others. Some days that spark shines so bright. Other days I feel like the emptied out lighter struggling to get the incense going. 

So as I'm sitting at my work desk with my yogurt, waiting for these alarms to bombard my day, I've come to the conclusion that some days will be loud and interrupted, uncomfortable even. We just had our first test blast and it happened after I took a call from a problematic, harassing customer. So I'm feeling like, today will be what it will. It could end up awesome, or maybe less so. So it goes for most days but today I will just do what I can.

Feel free to DM me any blog ideas, any subjects you want covered or questions you want answered. I'm always open to hearing from my readers! Thanks!

46 Concert Shirts, More than $1500 spent, Infinite Memories Made

Last week when I was blessed enough to go see Jenny Lewis live I asked my husband to find my old Rilo Kiley shirt. He said, "Man you have a lot of concert shirts. Like, a LOT."
The light bulb went off. I should count them! This should be blog-worthy.

I spent Saturday piling them. There were two piles: Ones currently in rotation, ones in storage. I counted:

In the two piles I had 46 concert shirts from concerts I had attended and ONE a friend bought me because I couldn't afford to go see Blink 182 at the time. 47 Concert shirts! FORTY-SEVEN!

At anywhere from $25.00 to $40.00 a piece, that is over $1,500.00 in live music fun and memorabilia well spent, in my personal opinion.

As soon as I went through the old clothes a massive wave of memories flooded me. I remembered the show, the set, who opened, that I was in the front and so on and so forth. Some shows I didn't remember much because I drank in excess which fogged things up, but that was also another memory in and of itself.

They all sat on my bed; so many of them! I didn't even know how I had ever fit in some of them. There they were, though in all their glory. It was the perfect picture of my twenties and an illustration of my coming of age.

I went to punk rock shows, alternative shows, indie shows, you name it. I was picky too, the bigger the venue the less it appealed with only a few exceptions. I had shirts for Journey, Foreigner, Neil Diamond and Bob Dylan to name a few. I knew a roadie for Journey and saw them 2 or 3 times one summer. Foreigner was a Florida show when I wrote for Creative Loafing. I took my dad to see Neil Diamond in the nosebleed seats of the RoseGarden arena in Portland Oregon. Bob Dylan was a large-ish theater with my sisters and brothers in law but we didn't sit together. They all hated it and I just thought "Holy shit, Bob Dylan is up there right now! BOB DYLAN."

The Matches, Reel Big Fish, Me First and The Gimme Gimmes, Juliette and the Licks, Cake, The Decemberists, Ben Kweller, Hanson, Flogging Molly, Death Cab for Cutie, Dropkick Murphy's, Mest! I'm unsure of whom I'm leaving out, oh! Big Head Todd and the Monsters, and that shirt was SIGNED.

My husband and I started reminiscing and filling in blanks for each other. We laughed about some, got a little nostalgic and sad about others. Every shirt was a memory of an epic night. We drove from Eugene to Portland more times than I can count. We drove to Washington before for a show. We never had money for new Vans slip-ons and paid bills late, but we found money for concert tickets and food and gas to get us there!

I still have the same obsession with concerts but I have to be more reasonable now. I'm a wife and mother. There have been so many festival type shows that I've wanted to bankrupt us to attend, just drive and go party for 3 days in the mud and see all the music until I couldn't stand anymore. 

If I went through each shirt I could probably blog about the entire circumstance around the band featured. I could tell you who introduced me to that band, why they are epic, which songs I love, which songs I hate and then why I went to see them and pick that shirt.
Sometimes I have trouble remembering why I walked into a room but when it comes to that pile, I can remember it all. 

I found my Foo Fighters shirt. My cousin and his fiance couldn't go to that show. He gave us the tickets for free. We got a cool hotel room close by and since we didn't pay for tickets we spent the money we WOULD HAVE on tickets, on booze and shirts. I drank WAYYYY too much and annoyed my cousins friends. I feel badly about this to this today. That was their first and only one-on-one experience with me and I was tanked and dancing, swaying, half-singing. It was ridiculous! And the waste of a good concert. I mean I remember it being awesome but still!

So that's 46 shows, and not to mention COUNTLESS others that I came home with a bumper sticker with or a signed set list, a drum set, etc. Going to shows was my sport. It had replaced shopping and I just needed to soak in as much live music as possible!

I'm just sitting back thinking about all of this because when I posted on Instagram I asked if it was excessive or awesome to have so many shirts? My answer is that it's completely amazing because they hold within them the story of my earlier days. I dug out my overalls and an old t-shirt and choker. I found the time to straighten my hair. My husband was adoring me a bit with some teasing commentary saying "Oh it's nice to see you all dressed up and with an outfit and like," I cut him off. I said, "It's nice to see me looking like me? I look like me, right?" He agreed, yes definitely.

Funnily enough, I didn't go anywhere but I think there are versions of me layered parfait-style within the outward Alison exterior. I can't pick my daughter up at school with a shirt that says "Me First and the Gimme Gimmes Got Balls.," even if they are holding bowling balls. I have an Offspring shirt and the back says "Stupid Goddamn Bullshit Motherfucker," or some such. Should I wear that to soccer practice?

You go in and out of phases. My husband and I actually had a ridiculous disagreement in the car last night. He was questioning the music I had on because of the lyrics. One of my favorite bands, Dashboard Confessional, of which I have a shirt, was singing from the car stereo, "My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me, so won't you kill me, so I die happy." He said, "Oh nice, songs about killing people."

I got defensive fast. I said, "This is Dashboard, it's poetry!" He said, "The subject matter is a little intense." I said "Being in love that you want that epic kiss to kill you so you can die happy isn't okay?" He shrugged and said "She's not even 7!" I said, "So when she asks me I'll tell her what it means! At least it's not filled with swear words! We were listening to Fleetwood Mac yesterday! All those songs are about cheating on people!" 

He gave up quickly after I said "How is this any different than Taylor Swift talking about being and Archer or telling people to calm down or doing something bad that feels good?" He was like "Okay okay fine!" My daughter chimed in the back about liking country. I retorted, "Those songs are all about getting drunk!" We finally tabled it but it was a worthy argument I feel.

I want my kiddo to see these shirts and ask about where I got them, ask about the bands and we listen to them and I get to tell her stories. She can like or dislike them. I was listening to the Pointer Sisters when I was 3 (most of those songs are heavily laden with sexual undertones), I was obsessed with The Monkees when I was 5, I loved Talking Heads, whose prominent song is "Psycho Killer," and I went on to fall in love with music and keep it close to me for therapeutic value and adventures.

Those 46 shirts are 46 memorable stories of ME, or infinite memories if you get me going and I love that I get to call them all mine. I feel like more blogs like this will be coming along. Happy musical Monday, readers!  

Concert Consciousness

I had the great pleasure this week of going to see one of my favorite musicians, Jenny Lewis, live at a small theater in Orlando. I had been lucky enough to see Jenny Lewis 12 years ago when she was in the amazing band, Rilo Kiley. Since then, I have not had the real chance to see her live again. There were always obstacles and financial reasons as to not make the show. Nothing stopped us this time.

Because of my excitement I asked my husband to find my old Rilo Kiley shirt. If you didn't know 19 year old Alison very well, you may be surprised at the fact that I have always been a concert-goer, and back in the day was nothing short of an avid concert-goer. I am obsessed with certain avenues of live music.

My first concert when I was 11 or 12 was Billy Joel at some concert hall at a local university. I knew very well plenty about Billy Joel to know that I was damn lucky to see him live in a small space. Sitting in a cold concert hall to watch seemed a little stuffy but regardless, I was happy to have the experience. My second concert was when I was 13, Hanson, at HersheyPark Arena I believe. I didn't like how huge it was, there was no room to move and the speakers drowned out everything with just noise and over-blown effects rather than the music.

When I was 17 or 18 a friend's mom took us to see NSYNC in their prime. We had nosebleed arena seats for an arena in Ft. Lauderdale I think. I knew I was so lucky to go but I remember when it was encore time my friend's mom was like "You have to clap to make them come back out!: My friend said, "Mom the encore is part of the show, whether they like it or not, clapping won't change that." Her mom did the classic "back in my day the encore meant something," story and it made me laugh but I've taken smaller show encores seriously since.

When I was 18 and living in the Pacific Northwest we were in indie-concert heaven. So many bands passed through the university towns of every genre and so many played the small clubs. I was completely obsessed with all things music. The closest to a "spiritual" experience I've ever had, has been in a live music venue. Music has been there for me on my darkest days, same as when I'm in a great mood. Music is my life.

I say that not in the sense that I'm any kind of musician. I just say that I couldn't live without it. When I was able to see Jenny Lewis live, close up and dance and sing and fall deeper in love with everything about her, it made me think of how many concerts I've been to. I've lost count.

The concert t-shirt situation will be a blog on it's own. I plan to count and record the findings this weekend. My husband was giving me a hard time about all the shirts and I said, "That was my thing; you could lose a ticket stub but a shirt I could and would wear forever, although some are inappropriate now."

I started going through them and remembered where I got them from, what show, when and how. It was better than a photo album. Some of my strongest, and best memories are around concerts. Some of my now favorite songs, or revisited songs I'd forgotten, I was lucky enough to see live, forever changing me. I've seen songs performed live that I disliked on an album. I've seen songs live that I didn't understand until the artist gave commentary on it. I've disliked some songs live that are my favorite on an album. Each concert was a journey, an adventure and a conscious experience.

It may be safe to say you can't actually know me on a deep level until you've seen me around live music of my own favorite musicians. My best friend and I are deeply rooted around the music of Hanson. I've made unlikely friends in the presence of Death Cab for Cutie, Rilo Kiley and Cake. Seeing performances live is where all my money went, pre-motherhood. Now I'm much more selective.

This past show was something of a new kind of concert adventure. In my twenties you would drive 2 hours to a venue, get tipsy up until you could sneak into the opener, then continue to drink to party through the show, then switch to water halfway through the headlining show, drive home, sleep until the last minute you could and rally back into whatever you had going the next day. For this part of my 30's, we caffeinated on the way, had a small dinner, small water, were fighting the sleepies before the show started, and then got a cookie and sugar rush for the drive home, completely sober and awake, crashing out at 1AM and up by 6:30AM for work and school and life. My mom watched my daughter and said, "How can you go to work after that?" I said, "It's not like I'm drinking. I may be sleepy but there won't be a hangover like 10 years ago!"

Yesterday, after just reliving what an epic set list from Wednesday night and thinking about all the concert shirts in the garage I just realized what kind of consciousness I have in the presence of live music. I have a rule that you have to listen to the band you're about to see the entire drive to the venue and possibly on the return trip as well. Some people think this is excessive. I disagree.

In this day and age you feel like you have to record and Instagram everything but I remind myself to put the phone down and live in the moment. You are never going to have that exact moment or experience again so drink it in.

My consciousness at a concert is like nothing else. I just wanna live there in that place as long as I can. I'm not worried about paying bills, waking up on time, laundry and dishes. I'm in that song, I'm in that moment just watching the music unfold before me.

I often joke that I was born in the wrong era. I believe I may be an old soul that previously was alive and attended Woodstock and Led Zeppelin shows, overdosing by 18 and then reincarnating to come back in the 80's to be this Alison. I love music the most!

Concerts are something I love to share with people too and I don't take it lightly. You have to be able to go, stand, dance and enjoy without messing it up for me or no thank you. My goal is to enjoy every song, whether I know it by heart or not and enjoy the company of whomever goes with me. So, if I've never asked you to go with me, that tells you everything...in a way LOL.

In my early twenties it was my mission for my dad and I to attend as many concerts as possible of the musicians he raised me on and then drag him to a few shows of "my bands," he could tolerate. I took him to see Lyle Lovett, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Neil Diamond, Jethro Tull, and most notably, Mark Knopfler, among others for us to truly enjoy together. These are my collections and memories and I will keep them, and possibly my t-shirts forever.

Concerts are my favorite way to spend my time. I love going to events instead of buying stuff. If it came down to "new bedspread" or "Tickets to see Cake," Cake will win every time. Concerts are my thing and I hope to keep that going to inevitably force my daughter to love them as well. Now back to updating my Spotify list!

The Blanket Bumble - Best Friend To The Rescue

Last month on vacation my daughter left a little blanket at a Holiday Inn in PA between NYC and our home base of Bainbridge, PA. At this Holiday Inn we didn't have the best experience before the blanket leave behind. I don't know if it's a male thing but my husband wanted to make sure we left with what we paid for and not a cent more.

With his vast hospitality knowledge we left with quite a discount and without the blanket. This was the first trip where I allowed my daughter to pack her own stuff. There was no judgement and just a few guidelines as far as what to pack, and what she could and could not bring. She asked if she could bring a small blanket for the plane and I said yes.

She grabbed a little pink one she had had since she was a baby and off we went. It made it to hotel #1, my best friend's house, NYC, and then the final hotel before departing from our possession. We realized it had not made it into the rental car for the journey back to home base the same day we checked out of the hotel and my husband called to confirm they had it, to then have it set aside and  sent back our direction.

When I was younger my uncle had taken me on trips with my cousins from time to time to Baltimore and such. I was the little anxious girl who couldn't travel without her stuffed animals. I once left like 5 stuffed animals in a hotel as he was not one to remember the excess stuff in the midst of adventure. I was beside myself. One call to the hotel and one FedEx box later, they came home to me less than a week after the departure.

I asked my husband after his quest for better Holiday Inn service to handle the exchange. I was ill-prepared for the drama that would ensue. 

First I was harassing my husband every other day, which I'm sure he loved about, "Oh did you call them? Did they give a tracking number? Did they return your call?" The responses kept varying from "I am waiting for the Manager," to "Oh they are emailing me the tracking number."

I started to think he was just saying whatever he need to in order to get me to leave him alone. It was the most obnoxious thing. The whole time I'm texting my best friend about the whole thing and she's agreeing with me that it sounds like the hotel is dropping the ball or hating on us for the lax customer service commentary at check out.

There is this song and dance around everything and people saying it has been sent or that a tracking number will be emailed for three weeks. Three weeks of the weird, broken and strange communications or dare I say lack there of.

Finally I call myself and the employee says they never got a credit card number. I give them the card number. It's not working. Impossible but technology is fickle. I give them a debit card number with money to be spent in that account. It doesn't go through. Impossible and so I say, "I think it's the system you're using." What do they tell me to do? I have to call FedEx.

Then I call FedEx and they inform me that they just changed their system. In order to give Holiday Inn the shipping label I must set up a personal Fed Ex account, buy said label and EMAIL the Holiday Inn people the label and wait for them to send. This seems like a LOT to ask of front desk associates who haven't though to USE THE POST OFFICE instead, or have yet to figure out the new mode of FedEx.

Finally my friend says, "Do you want me to just go and get it?" This thing is 90 minutes away. The stubborn mom part of me wants to win the blanket battle and make this hotel get their shit together. They have it. We want it back. Will my daughter live without it? Absolutely, but seeing as they still have the damned thing, can we just have it back?

Best friend to the rescue. Calling to say it would be picked up was another great adventure. I gave the name and spelled it and gave them the pick up window. They said "Okay, but she needs to be prepared to show ID." They can't figure out FedEx but card like a bar for a blanket apparently?

Yesterday I got the picture, my new favorite picture by the way, of my best friend outside of the hotel with the blanket on her shoulder. Operation Blanket Retrieval was a success! She selflessly offered to send the blanket by way of the post office, a genius idea by the way, tomorrow and I said not to. I said to wait.

This may seem odd but the entire exchange has kept me in a weirdly pensive perspective. I realized that, one small thing left behind was a weird stress. No one was losing sleep but it ricochet'd into an argument and nagging between my husband and I, my daughter just wanted a blanket back, an experiment in horrible customer service wrapped in weird karma, making things work for yourself, and best friends coming through in ways they ALWAYS have, with small steps for your child and huge steps for humankind.

It's just a blanket right? But that blanket was a baby shower gift from a friend that my daughter likes. I tried to buy another but they no longer make it. I tried to have it shipped and give an establishment my money to return my item to me, only to have it be, for lack of a better phrase, as shit show. My best friend selflessly volunteered to go and get it and return it and now I'm left, calm, grateful, highly amused and in no rush for return.

Maybe that blanket lives at Aunt Angela's awaiting for my daughter's triumphant return and will be the story of her six year old self. Maybe that blanket shows up with a Christmas package. Maybe that blanket shows up in October some random ass day because my best friend is sick of looking at it. 

All I know is this, we will never be staying at Holiday Inn again, and with the blanket bumble comes simplistic reminders of ALL THAT WE HAVE. I'm so lucky I have a best friend willing to go that distance in every sense. I'm lucky I have a husband that tried but got distracted and I'm lucky I'm so stubborn and persistent that the blanket didn't end up in a donation bin for no good reason. My daughter is lucky she has a mom who cares about a pink heart and peace sign blanket and that her mom also chose the best person in the world to be her only Aunt Angela and drive to fetch that thing.

These are my Thursday thoughts! We are so close to Friday!

Trying On Clothes Is Not My Favorite

In a fit and purge a few months ago, I ditched most of my clothes. No, I did not watch "Tidying Up," but I did get rid of plenty that did not "spark joy." While this was freeing, it also left me with some limitations. We have had two weddings to attend this year and weddings scream, "New dress."

I will out myself as nothing less than "cheap." In years before baby, shopping was my cardio. I longed for the stuff. As soon as I had a baby and had all the baby stuff, my stuff got old, neglected and uncomfortable. I feel like I've downsized and reprioritized a lot over the years, but it has definitely left me with less to choose from. In some ways this is great, and in others it can get stressful.

I recently fell back in love with Old Navy. They've had amazing styles and prints this season, and with the sales things are very affordable. Also, if they get trashed right away, you didn't pay much so it's not the end of the world. Target's fancy layout remodel and fashionable trends have also been fun to explore, so I've shopped there a lot, too.

I love me some TJMaxx and Marshall's but you have to have some serious, non-distracted time and no expectations for that kind of adventure, which is pretty rare for me. There are a lot of styles that are "cool," right now that don't fit my body type, sad but true. So I'm kind of in a weird place with it all.

The other day after slaying two workouts and having a gym buddy say I looked like my workouts were paying off, I was feeling slimmer and stronger. I thought, "Yay, I'm getting my confidence back a bit." I started dressing a little cuter, and was trying to take my body back in a sense. Knowing I had to have something newer for this upcoming wedding and our weekend free time was dwindling before our trip date, last night I took the time to hit Target.

I window shop online and Jumpsuits and Rompers are "so in." I got a Romper last year but when I ballooned back up into my discomfort zone, that thing was out of any rotation. Plus it made me feel like I was trying too hard to "look young." My best friend and I also created a fun game where, because rompers only compliment some body types and are not for everyone unfortunately, we started pointing out "Rompers" versus "Wrong-pers." It was like our own, "Who wore it best," or "Worst Dressed" list in US Weekly. It may sound catty and unfeeling but we're actually way less mean, or intended to be less mean, and are more silly about it I should say. I have been the victim of "wrong-pers" often LOL. I wish someone had told me!

Yesterday I got to Target and picked out a few things. I tried the regularly priced "nice things" and then hit the clearance rack for my favorite cheap finds. With a few choices, off I went to the dressing room to figure it all out. First of all, it was like the worst lighting ever. I felt like the Walking Dead. Then, just the trendy, skinny kinds of styles made all my self esteem shrink.

So first we have this gem above here. I loved the fall fashion, and the colors were good, but the long dress was not happy with my short body and it hugged my curves in the wrong way. This was not wedding-worthy. My hair was a mess and I have a zit popping but whatever. I didn't feel amazing either way, but I still posted this on Instagram because, meh, I was trying to stay lightened up.

Then we have the ROMPER/Jumpsuit threefold up here. This thing is my color, but I just kept staring thinking it wasn't really complimentary. From the side with the proper "suck it in," so then I would also need some new Spanx, it was okay at best. The front view left me very unsure. 

I found one other dress for the magical price of $9.00 in my other color, which is a golden yellow, and it fit really comfortably, and complimented my shape well, so I bought it because it could be wedding-worthy or but mostly because I can have a $9.00 new dress. The Romper up there was $30.00. I bought it, and was even able to get myself into a small after another try on sesh, not pictured, because I thought it would help the frumpy areas, and took the dress and myself home. The buyer's remorse from the $30.00 clothing purchase is ridiculous, but I seriously am planning on a return ASAP.

I didn't put it on at home again for other opinions, but this morning between my daughter chasing me, my routine closet stare where I figure out today's outfit, and then just my revisiting what I already own I thought to myself, "Wait a minute here." I looked in my shoe area and remembered fondly my blue suede boots.

When I was interning in London I spoiled myself with these beautiful blue boots. These are boots I don't get to wear anymore. Florida is frigging hot! Well this wedding is in October in Georgia at night, which will be cooler so it could work! And then I found a dress my mom bought me, lightweight but long-sleeved and could be worn with the blue suede boots, which BONUS, no more shoe shopping, which is also a nightmare for me. I have freakishly small feet unfortunately. 

For me it's not about being cheap, thrifty or even just a matter of laziness. For me, it's about utilizing what I already have. If I can spend no extra money and throw together something decent, count me in. I honestly don't have the time to shop and try everything on and decide on yes or no very often. I'm pretty consistently stressed about money so it all feels mostly unnecessary to me.

From time to time I need new underwear or a new pair of shorts, but I don't just go drop $200 because I want a "new look." That's not a part of my personal life program anymore. Retail therapy was a huge part of my depressive phases 10 years ago. It is something I have grown out of and refuse to return to. There are varying definitions of "need." I know what I need and don't need though now. And there's no outfit I can't live without.

I do love a good window shop. I love a good sale find. Maybe I've just outgrown being a "shopper." It's not something I do for pleasure but rather out of necessity. Even when I've had a day to shop and "money to burn" so to speak, I always think that money could be put to better use in the end.

After some serious reflection, I feel more grateful towards my body. I feel more grateful towards my growth and adult-ness in terms realizing that I don't "need" to do extra when I have what I need. I have an appreciation for the lessons I've learned over the years. I feel grateful for WHAT I HAVE. This has not always been the case, but being able to say or type that, is a complete and utter Wednesday "wisdomous" win.