Published by admin on 25 Mar 2012
I almost forced you guys to behold a photo of the swelling of my feet and ankles after a 12 hour day of work where I wasn’t able to get out of the office to go for a walk at lunch like I normally do. It was spectacularly ugly, so I didn’t take the picture. Just know, that my hairy legs and swollen ankles are a thing now. A real thing.
Stress itching! Check. Heart burn! Check. Weight gain in mostly my ass! Check. Baby kicking like crazy and then one day stopping so completely that I was sure once again this pregnancy was doomed! CHECK. (I tried to take a video of him kicking today but he would not cooperate. He does however seem to respond to Ashlee Simpson and ABBA. So, there’s that embarrassing fact to mock him with later in life when he’s only listening to whatever version of angst rock there is in the 2020s and calls my love for cheesy pop music lame.)
I got something checked off my life list this weekend, but I’m struggling to find a way to actually care about that life list anymore, so I guess I’ll document it here - Life List #58 I took a cooking class (pasta making to be exact) and realized what I really need is a knife skills class and a new set of knives and to take down my life list and just work on doing things that make me happy. This is a product of reading The Happiness Project right now. Some of what she says is really resonating with me, I don’t think being beholden to a set of items on a list that sounded fun or interesting or, let’s be honest, smart, when I wrote them is making me happy. What makes me happy is yet to be determined but the list feels like a weight around my (albeit very slight) spontaneous side, sort of like I’m required to do these things and if I don’t do them I’ll fail at life. When in reality, I’ll only fail at life if I don’t be me. And being me is hard enough without being hard on me for not being the me I think I should be. Does that make sense?
Anyway, the class was held in downtown LA at the LA Brewery artist lofts and it made me realize, this me, the me I’m stuck with, will never live in an artist loft in downtown LA, but that is ok. Because while I think lofts are awesome in theory, they are in downtown where you regularly find human feces right outside your doorstep, which coincidentally is #7 on my Don’t Do List (don’t live somewhere where you regularly find human feces outside your doorstep).
And with that! Here is the bump. Voila!