Base Zero and Metaphors

Holy *%^$balls, life went Kersplody.

Messy, happy, snotty, sick stuff everywhere. I’m still mopping up, and I am still deciding how to get through December without going bat@#$* crazy. The holidays are upon us. I have so far been able to avoid doing any cookie baking, and have done most of my shopping online. I have begun the Great House Purganization 2013, with some success. Now… If only the dust bunnies would move out (and take those darned Cheerio elves with them) and the Laundry Gods would continue to favour me, I could tackle the massive pile of baby stuff to sell, sort the toys currently lurking in the basement, and get that stain off the basement stairs carpet… We’d be almost back to base zero. Hoo! Think of the free time! Hah… Right.

I have ventured into a store or two for gift shopping, but at off-peak because I hate Christmas crowds. Also? I have no idea what to get my husband, so I am left wandering a lot, not inspired. Not a clue, honestly. And Dad? What do you want for Christmas this year? My creative batteries are on low, so let me know what would make you a happy Grandpa, and the kids and I will go get it.

We’ve also decided not to have a Christmas Open House this year. This will be the first year, since 2008, that we haven’t had one. We looked at cash, and time, and the fact that we are so stretched energy-wise that we’d be nuts to try and get the house company-clean and cook for that many people while maintaining the work/ home life schedule we have. I have to say I am completely relieved, but also sad. We love having people over, it is a chance to see as many of our friends as possible around Christmas, and provide some cheer. Plus, having 40 some odd people (17 of them kids in your basement watching TV) is quite an experience in a three-bedroom bungalow.

That said, friends are always welcome to give us a call, or come over for tea on the weekend. Just don’t mind the crumbs, constant noise, and bedlam, ok?

The past couple of weeks, truly, has been really great and really awful all at once. I have done a couple of runs, and they were awesome. I have been in the gym kicking butt. Also awesome. Missed a kick-butt Tupperware party. Not awesome.

The worst was that my wonderful, beautiful, never-replaceable Mustang Blue Running Room Run Jacket is gone/stolen (I think, since it is nowhere to be found and I was certain where I had left it). The realization, when it hit, made me break down sobbing. It was passed to me from a really awesome and inspiring friend, Ally (http://runningawaywithmyself.blogspot.ca/) and I am really at an emotional loss because that gift meant so very much to me.  I loved that jacket, it fit perfectly, and was a comfort on every run. I have to replace it, but I have to afford new running shoes too. *^&%. I am still looking for it, checking the lost and found at work periodically, but… Hope is fading.

Curse you, whomever took it out of the locker room at work, if that is what happened. CURSES UPON YOUR BLACKENED SOUL! *ahem*

Finally surfacing after my stomach flu is great, but with the massive green and red twinkling freight train of Christmas approaching, I want to dive back down. Let’s not talk about piles of snow, holes in my winter boots, tense school meetings about my son, my lack of gym visits in the past few days, or the entire family having colds all at once. I sound whiny. I’m not, really. Just tired. Really, really tired.

I think it is time to start Vitamin D and iron again. Blargh.

Finally, along with being bedridden and achy for the past few days, I’ve been thinking in metaphors, and I wrote some down in my flu-like haze. After re-reading them, I wanted to share some of them with y’all. I kind of liked them. Note, I am not sad. Ok, some of these may sound sad, or depressing, but they aren’t. Just snippets, ideas. Playing with the ideas. See after the More. ♥

Sometimes it feels like I am one of those dolls you see for sale in ethnic craft stores and booths, or even on vacation in Mexico. You know, the ones that catch your eye when you walk in, with tiny sombreros or drawn on faces. They have brightly dyed thread over corn husk or wood, sometimes with little signs or guitars in their  fat, balled hands. They look outward, happy and blissful on their shelf, awaiting tourists to buy them and take them home.

I am one of those dolls, forgotten on the back of the shelf, gradually gathering dust. I am unravelling, row by row, each thread coming off in a spiral of riotous colour, left to slacken and dangle, while my insides slowly come loose. When the last thread has dropped off, I’ll be thrown away, replaced by another happy, brightly-woven form, to begin the process anew.

Sometimes it feels like I have all these parts of my life assembled like a 3D puzzle. Work, kids, home, hobbies, fitness, diet, health, family all fit together in some way, clicking with little tabs that fit them snug to one another.  But, when it all comes crashing down in a stormy tidal wave, I am swallowed whole with it, rolled around, and spit out onto the beach with the flotsam strewn across the beach.

I have to go around, pick up all the pieces, put them back together like they were before, and just as it all clicks back into place, along comes another wave. Relentless, pounding, and inevitable. You would think I would have figured out how to build the pieces back together stronger by now, but habit has me putting them back the same way every time. It is familiar. It is comfortable. It is what I know how to do. Doing it differently would take too much time to learn, and I wouldn’t have it fixed before the next wave hits.

Sometimes it feels like I have all these pent up words in my body, flowing through my veins, like thick, red ink wanting to spill onto a page. All I have to do is open a vein, and I can let it drain out of me, onto the paper, and the verbal pressure will ease. The noise in my head will lower, and all the syllables jockeying for space in my cells will have more space to grow and ferment into ideas and thoughts worthy of bloodletting. Worthy of the effort to get them onto the page, instead of throwing masses of jumbled-up letters towards a blank surface to see what sticks, judging quality after quantity.

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