though we are worlds apart, like us, there's more to them than meets the eye

I  beginning to wonder if you ever truly know yourself. 


One of my goals in life is to not become a hoarder. I often watch the hoarding specials on TLC to remind myself. The irony is that I am sitting on the couch watching TV instead of up cleaning my hoarding piles. I have this thing about collecting. I'm not sure if you have ever seen the movie "Everything's Illuminated," but the main character is a collector of things. The difference is he is an OCD collector of things, so he collected in an organized way. I, however, filled my first apartment with stuff and only had to purchase a couch, chair, and kitchen items. The majority of those things were originally housed in my bedroom at my grandparent's house. Needless to say, it was NOT organized and quite difficult to clean my room. I still have stuff there, and my grandmother is constantly trying to send it home with me... i try not to take it because we are running out of room around this house.

Now that we have started couponing, it's a whole different ballgame of hoarding. I'm having to reorganize the kitchen cabinets to make room for food and snacks because we are saving up for dooms day. With unemployment skyrocketing in the salmon house, it's always good to be prepared with snacks, air freshener, and soft scrub. Call me if you need crackers.

Brave is Short for Bravery

Every night there is a not so silent war that wages over a small, pink neck pillow. Mark and I covet this pillow, but technically it's his. His mom got it for him for Christmas, and I try to make the argument that it's PINK and there are LITTLE STARS AND MOONS ALL OVER IT, and it's GIRLY, and it is to no avail. I am not quite sure why his mom got it for him for Christmas since it is so girly, and she is not owning up to a packaging mistake. I just know that it is probably the best present in the history of the world. It's like a slice of heaven in the midst of flat, lifeless pillows, a bed that feels like it was designed by satan, and a dog that hogs the bed. The dog is Dharma, my sweet, small, Boston Terrier-- not my husband. Although, I feel like calling him a dog when I see that pillow just hanging out from under his head, not really being used... as it is now.

There are a lot of changes going on right now, and I am not sure which way the wind is blowing-- it feels more like a vortex than just a general shift. It's a high stress situation around here that we have to take a day at a time, minute by minute sometimes, and have to verbally remind ourselves that we should be sticking together not screaming at each other... That the only fights we should be having are over a pillow.

I am scared, have no control, and am not sure how much more we are going to lose... but one thing I know for sure is that I would sleep a lot better at night if he would let me borrow that neck pillow.

I have never used the word pillow in my writing so much in my life... unless you count a little ditty i made up with my friend Tyler Hankins about a blue neck pillow belonging to my friend Karen Neal. (What is it with all these neck pillows breaking gender roles?) Anyway, this is a fun song/poem, and first time being published:

She's got a blue pillow
That she likes to lay on
She likes to sit on
She likes to carry-on

She gets on the airplane
And feels kind of sluggish
She reaches in her carry-on luggage
For her little blue pillow


Still a work in progress, and you probably had to be there to get why it's so funny... but just sharing it with the few blog followers I have makes me feel a little braver, and trust me. I need a bravery boost right now.