my little corner
my little corner
Some weeks aren’t made for pretty pictures and pretty stories. This was one of those weeks — a vacation from school clodhoppered by too many night shifts and too little rest. I’m feeling rough around the edges and exhausted. At the same time, a little sunlight, like this speckling through my plastic-wrapped window, makes even the messiest apartment and the fragilest nerves seem soft and daring.
My husband is a numbers guy. He’s analytic, systematic, risk-averse, and studying his way through the 4 exams needed to become a CPA. But, all his wily know-how aside, Jeremiah is really just a creative tender of plants, fish tanks, and people.
* Here, he’s inspecting the sun-dews he started from seed last winter *
Yesterday, marked three years since the day I met Jeremiah Breer. He’s still my favorite thing to talk about and my favorite person to spend a lifetime with. The beginning of our relationship has been all zip and rush. I’m looking forward to a mellower next few years, which we’ll spend writing each other snarky notes like this one. From Jeremiah: “Unplug the heater” (because whenever I make coffee, I forget and trip the breaker). From Grace: “And plug it back in, too!” (because whenever he makes toast, he forgets, and I wake to a -20 degree apartment).
Yesterday we celebrated my little sister’s upcoming marriage with a 1950’s housewife-themed bridal shower after a week of school stresses, dead car batteries, and burst pipes. Life just keeps goin’! I love how the challenges and highlights of daily life change over the decades. In so many ways, housewife-ness seems so much simpler and more solid than the career-oriented world I live in — at the same time, I wonder if Jer and my marriage isn’t better off for our shared experiences and this generation’s lack of gender roles. All speculation aside, the shower was a grand big, jazzy hit! I wish my Rosie girl the best and brightest!
I geeked out over goals this year. Of course, with my indecisive ways, I won’t decide until May — at least — which of those goals I plan on putting into action and which will be neglected.
The only goal worth sharing is this:
Within five years, our annual Christmas/New Year letter will consist of Jer and me sitting among farm animals playing the part of the nativity: Mama Sow with a kerchief of blue, three roosters strutting with their combs raised, a bantam chick settled in straw, a sheep or two with little turbans atop their heads…
These are the kitschy sort of things I dream up when living exam to exam.
I’m beginning to fall more and more in love with Aretha Franklin. Oh, to be a woman so big! The voice, the confidence, the persona, the guts…
It’s been so long since I’ve blogged. I’m not a blogger, not really. I’m both too slow and too long-winded to pull off this fast-paced, techno-savy personal journalism. And, I’m not mommy-loving, belly-swelling, bread-baking enough to write one of those yummy fashion/motherhood blogs so many women adore. I know. And, none of those articles about consistency, “traffic,” readership, “stats” — “Top Ten Tips to Make YOU a Better Blogger; Get the Readers YOU Deserve” — can convince me that I should be.
Still, I like to pretend sometimes…
When I first started this blog, I was very newly married and not working. I had time to kill and a new life to establish. I named my blog “Pie in the Sky” after my husband’s and my cluttered apartment above a pizza place of a similar name. I planned on writing three series. One, “Plainfield Pecularities,” was supposed to introduce me and my readers to the pot-smoking, red-neck inhabitants of my new town in central Vermont. I wrote one profile, a conversation with a dread-locked gentleman at the Cutler Library, before deciding that pithy biographies of unknown neighbors would be creepy — “the past time of that ghostly girl upstairs,” the towns folk would say when they stumbled across my blog with all their faces and personalities unforgivably outlined for the anonymous world to see.
I envisioned my second series, “Wiferly Arts,” as an internet extravaganza of new-wife-ish inspiration. I wanted to share my recipes (My husband says I can create something gourmet out of a box of microwave rice. I’m kind of proud of this.), showcase pictures of my decorating, and document my mastery of roof-top gardening. Then, I went back to work. My husband made most of his meals. My dirty laundry became the decorative theme of my apartment. And, my tomato starts died. With a sorry nod to my home-schooling roots, I admitted how much I thrive as a career gal and suck as a housewife. I also decided that “wiferly arts” sounded more sultry suggestion than frilly domestication.
For my third series, I chose the simple name “Childhood Stories,” not yet decided if this category would host reviews of favorite girlhood reads (Anne of Green Gables, for one) or capture my adventures growing up as a home-school girl on an off-the-grid homestead in Vermont. In the end, neither idea stuck. Rereading classics grew boring, and I wanted to focus on my new life, not the life I had left. “Childhood Stories” became a tag for cute pictures of my sisters and nephews and a sort of catch-all phrase for anything reflective.
Over the course of 18 months, Pie in the Sky morphed from the past time of an attempting housewife into a random collection of memories for one busy wife/nurse/student/mentor/gardener/friend as I learned to manage the many joys and adventures of my evolving adult life. “Plainfield Peculiarities,” “Wiferly Arts,” and “Childhood Stories,” lost their original zing and relevance.
In large part, Pie in the Sky has become a place for distant relatives to check in and see how and what I’m doing. I like this usage and am content without a large, global readership. I am horrendous at keeping in touch, especially as nursing school comes crashing down on my social life, and the idea of exercising my writing skills while also keeping family up to date pleases both my practical and my frivolous self. If there is a purpose to my clumsy blogging, this — sending out internet hellos to aunts and uncles and sisters and brothers around the country — is it.
With that in mind, I’d really like to rework the content of my blog to reflect this frantic, happy life my husband and I have created. While more accurately portraying our life at Pie in the Sky — and, trust me, it is anything but domestic or wife-ish — I’d also like to stretch my writing muscles. Writing is something I used to love, and I don’t want to feel overly rusty when I’m done with nursing school and have time again to fill a journal or two.
This is not a promise to write more, but it is a request for input coupled with a drive to document Jer and my evolution into adulthood(doesn’t that also mean write more? hmmmm). What would you like to see at Pie in the Sky? Most of you know me personally — what styles and ideas do you want me to present? For you writers out there, what thoughts do you have on writing a midst a whirl-wind life? Here are a few ideas I’ve come up with. I’d love to hear your thoughts!
Weekly picture (sort of a 52 project) of life at Pie in the Sky
Weekend Pickle — a question I’ve been puzzling over with discussion
Nursing School Tidbits — things I’m learning about surviving career and school and still being actively a part of my marriage
Favorite Places — highlights of restaurants, cafes, trails, parks I love around Vermont
Project Re-do — despite saying I’m not domestic, I really do want to fix up our apartment. I have a gazillion ideas. Might be kind of fun to blog about.
Life with Jeremiah — my husband is a hoot! Living with him is my favorite. You should all get to enjoy his genius and humor. ‘Nough said.
More nursing ideas, more pictures, some discussion on being a mentor, less reflective stuff, more practical conversations…