coming up for air

I have been wondering about this blog as a means of self exploration. It seems awfully boring to present some of my meandering introspection to all of you, while you all wait for the punch line.

So, I'll meander and then give you a funny bathroom story.

I started playing this game, Aion, with my husband. It was going to be a great way to spend time with him in a way he felt really connected with. We could set goals together, explore together, discover a new world together, and feel satisfied that our relationship had ambition and success.

We participated in the closed beta, and then open beta, and finally the game launched in late August. It was a lot of fun. We were part of a great guild that a friend of mine recommended. I became popular in my various roles in the guild.

Then I started to notice that family dinners were harder to put together. I needed to be crafting online. Sometimes the kids would go back to school without having done their homework, but there were forts that needed to be defended. The two little girls started to be glued to laps or otherwise acting out for lack of attention, but levels needed to be grinded. Finally, Tag's medicine ran out but I couldn't quite find the time to get it refilled, because... and that's when something inside of me snapped.

I hadn't written in almost 4 months (besides a stupid nothing update), it was getting to be harder to find time with friends, and the gym was becoming less imperative to me. Not only that, but I spent less face time with my husband while sitting directly beside him for hours on end, than when I never touched games at all.

So I quit.

It was interesting to lay my reasons for quitting before Man, and wonder what his reaction would be. After the money, time, and spending the energy to build guild relationships, it seemed wasteful to just set it all aside. But I compared it to a Reece's PB cup in my hand. I could either eat it, or throw it away. In either case it would be gone, but I know which decision will help me feel better about myself at the end of the day.

Sometimes I wonder if quitting was the right answer. There were many other solutions I could have chosen, like only playing certain nights of the week. Or only playing on long weekends. I could also just limit my game time to when the kids are in bed. However, my best intentions were foiled by my tendency toward laziness.

So, this past Sunday, I gave away many thousands of kinah worth in crafting supplies, sent all my remaining money to Man, and signed off with a thank you to a great guild.

In the mean time, I've had a lot of time to wonder what it is I do with my time. It seemed so important to me that I was willing to quit an epic journey for it, but now I feel lost all over again. Now that we're all over strep and a possible bout of swine flu (exposure to confirmed case, followed by illness strongly resembling said flu) I'm back in the gym and I've even started a new short story I'm excited about. But what about the rest of my day?

I've caught up on this season of Bones, House, The Office, Castle, and 30 Rock. Believe it or not, it only took two days. My dishes are once again done (thanks to my marvelous mother, who came to visit) and I'm back in the habit of cooking every night.

So I twiddle my thumbs and again wonder "now what?" over and over as I slowly go through the house and correct things bit by bit.

There are a few things I'd like to do with my life that I hadn't even thought about attempting before Aion, like actually participating in NaNoWriMo (in the privacy of my own computer though, none of this entering things online for anyone else to see garbage) and there's still the matter of this college application that's hanging in limbo. Also, my food storage plan is a lot easier to gauge now that Raul is on the scene. He's doing a marvelous job of keeping cans organized for me, and letting me know when it's time to get new supplies. All I do is glance at each can's intake. If I can't see old cans, it's time to get new.

Domestic matters are always calling, as well, like upcoming Halloween. My kids' minds seem to change all the time concerning their costumes. Tag has wanted to be Dash, a police officer, and a few other things that don't come to mind right away. Princess wants to be a Snow Princess, Pebbles wants to be whatever she last heard a sibling say they wanted to be, and Freida just likes candy. So, that needs to be taken care of.

The day I quit, Man looked troubled and grumpy. I was terribly worried that he was mad at me, but I clung to the assurance that I knew for sure I had made the right decision. Later that night, he hugged me and said he was proud of me, for making a tough decision that was right for me. That felt good.

Anyway, let's get back to the bathroom story.

I was out at lunch with my mom at this grill sports bar place when the Call of Nature became insistent. The bathroom there smelled surprisingly sterile, as if something had wiped the whole place down with undiluted bleach and then not rinsed.

They have these toilets with the bowls that have a very slight grade to them. I always worry about some splash back from that sort but I try not to think about it too much. Someone else came into the bathroom, hacking up a juicy lung on her way to the handicapped stall. I winced, thinking about how that was the first thing I did upon entering the bathroom since I didn't want the diners at large to know I was ill.

I completed what I came to do, and wasn't paying attention to where I dropped my toilet paper. It ended up close to the rim. I flushed, but the water failed to remove my papery evidence at all. I flushed again, blushing that the Sick Person might hear that I was having a problem in my stall only two doors down.

What are your options at that point? There was no Instrument of Toilet Correction and Cleaning available, and under no circumstances was I going to be putting my hands into a public toilet, laden with bleach or not. There was only one thing I could do, and that would be to run.

I opened my stall door, ready to dash for the exit, when I heard the bathroom door open. I quickly closed my door, hoping she didn't see me. If I had run at that point, I would have risked her seeing that my toilet bowl still had paper in it, and then she'd think I was some sort of slob. After hearing her run to the last available stall, I quickly left my stall, agonized over the time it takes to thoroughly wash ones hands and properly vacate a restroom without touching anything else unless you have a paper towel barrier well in place, and then whirled out the bathroom door just as the handicapped stall door began to open.

I was safe. Now, no one would know who left the toilet paper in the bowl.

And that's important to me. Inexplicably.

Time Out of Women

This past weekend I went with a great group of ladies to enjoy Deseret Book's Time Out for Women. It's supposed to be an opportunity for women to get away from their families for a while, hear some funny and spiritual talks given by Utah celebs, and generally chill out on a Saturday.

We drove down on Friday to hear the evening session as well. It was interesting to look over the "menu" for the event and realize I'd only ever heard of one or two featured persons. Michael McLean (whose name I had to look up to spell correctly) performed twice on Friday, Ardeth Kapp spoke (someone in front of us said that Ardeth Kapp's husband is a cousin of Janice Kapp Perry, whose music I enjoy), and Hilary Weeks rounded out the speakers/performers.

Michael McLean had a very funny piece about how taking anti-depressants isn't shameful at all, and for some people it's life saving treatment. (can't find the lyrics online) He went on about how he dealt with severe depression until the Spirit whispered "boy, get yourself some pills". I thought it was interesting that untreated depression was a topic of such great importance to so many that he decided to feature it in his otherwise cater-to-the-stereotypical-Utah-oriented-woman styled presentation. He also sang songs about a birth mother giving up her baby, and a song about longing to be heard by heaven when in great pain. One of the phrases in a song he sang that really jumped out at me was "you know the truth as you fear it." Think about that for a while.

The Saturday speakers were Mark Mabry (of Reflections of Christ fame), Kim A Nelson (very funny man), DeAnn Flynn, Brent L Top, and Mary Ellen Edmunds (who signed my tote bag, I loved her so much). (I had never heard of any of these people)

After the meeting on Saturday Hilary Weeks and Mary Ellen Edmunds stayed around to sign books and things. Mary Ellen gave each person who came to her for a signature a big, long hug. That woman has no fear, it seems. There is flu of many kinds going around, there's always someone with questionable hygiene in every crowd, and regional illnesses abound. Yet she reached right into everyone's personal space with a gesture of love. She was my favorite for sure.

At the hotel we were staying at, we met a nice young man in a BYU t-shirt. We said hi, he said he was in town for the convention, we all smiled and parted ways. Later I was introducing myself to someone at a booth where we gleefully found that we were both Annies (with different real names) when I heard someone hollar "hey, Annie, I know you!"

I turned around to find Mr BYU T-Shirt all dressed up and manning the Shelf Reliance table.

There it was, Raul II, outfitted with accessory shelves and filled with Shelf Reliance brand merchandise. I told BYU about Raul, and his perfection. BYU was tickled by that and began telling everyone who came to the booth about Raul as I read over his brochures. After the fourth or fifth declaration of my naming my shelf, I started to feel cheapened. Raul was not a marketing gimmick, darn it! He's special and mine. Later that day I went to grab another brochure and say goodbye to BYU. He smiled and said "well, I'll see you back at the hotel."

That drew me up short. I said "we've already checked out" and then ran away. Which I can do now. I mean run. Not run away.

All in all it felt like more of a commercial experience than a really spiritual one, but I had some good laughs and really enjoyed the people I went with. Each of them surprised me with how funny and interesting they could be. I finally got my social time after these months of nursery.

I don't think I'll go again until I have more "spare" money and it's a little closer. It was nice but not something I'm interested in sacrificing for. Seeing a live General Conference, on the other hand, sounds like a treat excelsior.

Pink school

A: [knocks on our door]

Pebbles: [runs to the door, throws it open, and is excited to see her good friend returning some shoes] Ooooh, pretty dress. Are you going to church?

A: No, going to preschool.

P: Pink school? I wanna go to pink school.

Me: Pebbles, you're 3, you need to be 4 to go to preschool.

P: Oooh, ok, I'm 4.

Man: when did you turn 4?

P: I'm 4 and wanna pink school.

-sigh- If only it were that easy.

Man has been on leave for over a week now and my routines are shot. :)

The gym is going well except for an ankle issue that has become my poltergeist. I now walk/run for 2 mins/1.25 mins. Which, of course, is up from 3 mins/15 seconds. Progress, but nary a pound has meandered away. Oh, well. What weighs me down makes me stronger, right?

There was a church activity recently for which I made dolmades with real grape leaves someone brought back from Utah. Recipe is here.

Tag has been put into a supplemental reading program at school because he thinks reading is boring. Time to get more car books. Tag is still making friends all over the neighborhood and riding his bike all over creation.

Princess has been growing taller and thinner all the time. She now stands almost as tall as some of my shorter friends. She rides her bike a lot too and is finally making more friends, now that school is in.

Freida just put together a sentence yesterday "want help me, please" but her "please" still sounds like "neesh". She likes to exclaim "oh, bauw!" when something spills and uses a generous pile of my wash rags to clean even the tiniest mess. We've lost a few to her industrious chucking of things into the garbage.