Day 2: Project 365

Seven, originally uploaded by superkarynfragilistic ♥.

The elevator that takes me to see my Gram. The 7th floor nursing staff lives in fear of me. That's just the way I like it.

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You can quote me on that

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when their right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."--Marilyn Monroe

Quotes and song lyrics have a way of working themselves under my skin and traveling through my nerves and blood vessels, firing off synapses, until they eventually come to rest in my brain.  There they take on a life of their own--seeping into my gray matter and leaking into my every day thoughts.  When I say I can't get one out of my head, I mean it.  

The above quote, from one of my personal icons--Marilyn Monroe, has taken up residency in my brain as of late.  And, in true *me* fashion, my brain has turned it over and over, hither and fro, like a quotation version of a Rubik's Cube; matching this particular quotation to so many people and events that are permanently stored within the vast caverns of my mind and its memories.  I feel as if I've lived this quote thousands of times...and probably will live it thousands more.

At this very moment I am in the midst of watching my Gram as she drifts further and further from us (this is a letting go that I will never accept nor with which I deal well) and on the precipice of a whole new life with J. and the zilla as we make our plans and preparations for his big move back.  A teeter-totter of emotions which wears me out on a near daily basis.  (Typing the simple phrase "wears me out" immediately sets my brain into motion and now the musical stylings of Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees" is playing within the confines of my inner iTunes--neuroTunes, perhaps?)  Two vastly different events, both hugely important in my life, which I have trouble opening up about and adequately putting into words.

Perhaps this is the reason that I find myself, and so much solace, in the words of others.  When my words fail me--as they often do--there is the comfort of knowing that somewhere, sometime, someone else has felt the same way and managed to find the words for you...

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Everybody Hurts

There aren't words to describe how much I love my Gram and how much I ache for her.  I managed to hold it together until the wee hours of the morning when my iPod shuffled its way to R.E.M's "Everybody Hurts" and my knees found the ground and I begged the fates to be kind.

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Day 1: Project 365

c'est moi, originally uploaded by superkarynfragilistic ♥.

So if I am going to start this Project 365 thing it seems a decent place to start is with a photo of me. I snapped this with my Blackberry (loves!) this afternoon to send to J. I like sending him random pics of what the zilla and/or I may be up to at any given point of our day. It helps the 2000+ miles between us not seem quite so far.

So this is me, rockin' a hoodie in one of my favorite color combinations. Thrilling. I know :)

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Project 365

Okay, so every year I attempt Project 365.  What is Project 365 you ask?  It is when you post a picture a day for a year (hence the 365 part).  Some do a daily self-portrait which, I will readily admit, I do not have the stomach for.  A retrospective of my face over the course of a year sounds more like torture than anything remotely productive.  In any case, I am *really* going to try this year.  That means no photos languishing on my memory card or on my hard drive.  They. will. be. posted. (I hope. I think  I'll try!)

In any case, keep and eye out for random photos and a Project 365 tag.  And we'll see where this takes us.

Baker baker

What were we up to this evening?  Only baking some of the best cookies ever.  E.V.E.R!  No, seriously.  These cookies are omifuckinggod good.

The recipe is  my own variation of Paula Deen's Three Chocolate Cookies recipe.  Easy enough for the zilla to step it from from helper to co-baker and amazing enough that everyone that tries them falls in love with them and wants the recipe.  They really are that good.

Needless to say that these cookies are not, in any sort of way, vegan.  But I will post the recipe from the next batch of vegan cookies the zilla and I rock out.

• 1 cup (2 sticks) butter, softened
• 1/2 cup vegetable shortening
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 1 3/4 cups firmly packed brown sugar
• 3 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 3 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 (12-ounce) package semisweet chocolate chips
• 1 cup milk chocolate chips
• 1 cup white chocolate chips
• 1 cup toffee chips
  

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Lightly grease baking sheets.
With an electric mixer, beat butter and shortening at medium speed until creamy; gradually add sugars, beating until fluffy. Add eggs and vanilla, beating well.

In a small bowl, combine flour, baking soda and salt; gradually add to butter mixture, beating until blended. Stir in chocolate morsels and toffee chips. Drop cookies by 1/4 cupfuls about 3-inches apart onto prepared baking sheets. Bake for 11 to 12 minutes, or until lightly browned. Let cool for 2 minutes on baking sheets. Remove to wire racks to cool.

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Testy, Testy

Just a little test of the Mobile Blogging System. :)

He Sends Me Texts...

...with questions such as, "Can we bake our own bread and make our own preserves and grow some fresh herbs and spices?"

I find this utterly adorable.  And, even though I live in a postage stamp, I will find a way to grow our own fresh herbs and spices--Chia Pet, perhaps?

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Have You Ever...?

...come across an empty, but running, police car and thought, "I could *totally* steal this right now!"

Yeah.  Me too.

Listening to:  House Hunters on HGTV (I am madly addicted)

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Springtime Teasing...

It isn't "warm" by any means but it isn't as cold as one might expect.  My patio door is open and the cool air circulates through my wee abode.  A small, small tease of spring to keep me going through, what I imagine are, the the still long winter months ahead...

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Listening to: Speed of Sound by Coldplay (I know, right?) 

Life Leaking

Gram visits are currently suspended due to a raging head and chest cold.  As we were schmoogling (our family's term for snuggling) on the couch the zilla offered this little nugget of insight.

"Momma, why do you sound like a bicycle pump when you breathe?"
"It's because I have a cold, Lils."
"Oh. I thought maybe it was your life leaking out."

Yeah.

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Be Strong...

My Gram is sick.  Really sick.  In the hospital two-weeks-and-counting sick.  It began as pneumonia and has spread to a variety of other ailments.  The pneumonia seems to be responding well to antibiotics.  Unfortunately, her mind seems to be bearing the brunt of her hospital stint.

It started a week in:  mixing people up, forgetting dates, losing time...nothing that was *too* disturbing.  Gram is on the cusp of 92 so a few slips here and there weren't cause for too much alarm.  But today...today was different.  Today I walked into my Gram's room and was met with a completely blank stare.  Her blue eyes didn't light up, her hands didn't work their way out from her blankets to reach for a hug, nothing...just empty.

My Gram didn't know me.  Me.  Her favorite grandchild (Does that sound shitty to say?  It's true--so I'll say it).  The one who produced a little "princess" on which my Gram completely and utterly dotes.  The one who has sat by her bed for hours after work every day to help her eat and keep her entertained.  The one who, upon leaving the previous night, she patted and said, "Be a good girl, Karyn (which she has *always* pronounced Car-in)."

I was utterly heartbroken.

The next several hours were spent relentlessly dragging my Gram's mind back to the here and now.  Gram regaled me with stories about her bright, beautiful granddaughter (fyi: that's me) with absolutely no idea that she was talking to me...about me.  After each story, I would remind her that I, in fact, am Karyn.  Gram simply nodded her head and started unraveling another tale about something I had done or said.  At one point, she asked me if I knew me and when I might come visit.  "It's dark," she worried. "Karyn never is this late."

The hours stretched on and a nurse eventually popped her head in the doorway to remind me that visiting hours ended at 8:00 and that I had overstayed my welcome by almost an hour.  My Gram accepted a hug from me.  Accepted.  Tolerated.  No pulling me in closer.  Not a single pat on my hair.  A hug that you would give an acquaintance.  My Gram and I are huggers.  When we hug you, it's for real.  None of this half-way hug nonsense.  And, all the tears I had held back during the night began to fall.  I tried so hard to regain my composure.  After all, to my Gram, I was essentially a stranger.  But my Gram continued to hug me anyway.  Patting my back the way one would to soothe a child.  I straightened again and looked her face, a face I have looked into thousands of times before and whispered, "I am so sorry."  Gram grabbed my hand and squeezed and said, "It's okay to cry, Karyn.  All strong women cry and you are the strongest of them all."  Then she gave me a pat and sent me on my way.

It was only a moment, but I will take it.  It is what we strong women do...

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So I'm a Fucking Liar...

So every year I declare I am not going to make a New Year's resolution.  And I don't.  Don't really believe in them.  The closest I came was five years ago when I decided that it would be my year to "Think Less and Do More..."  It was a resolution meant to combat my overly analytical nature and just *do* something.  Be more spontaneous.  Be...not so...well, me.  A little over two weeks later I found myself out with a group of co-workers (my now sweetheart being among them) and decided it was time to put theory into action.  I blew off my ride, snagged one with him, and the rest is history (ok, maybe not a straight from there to here history--but you get the point). :)  Still, that was years ago and at the end of my year of "Think Less and Do More" I settled, quite contentedly, into my routine of eschewing all New Year's resolutions.

Until this year.

This year, I've decided, is my "Yes Year."  My year to say yes to all those things that, for whatever reason, I may have said no to before.  Before you get too excited, this doesn't mean you can call and ask me for asinine favors and I will readily agree--it's not that kind of yes.  It is yes to ideas, and experiences, and maybe even commitments that I may have shied away from previously. 

I have no idea how this will go.  Part of my mind is suspicious that this is a non-resolution.  I am rather open-minded and willing to try new things.  Still, there is a part of my subconscious that trembles at the thought of this.  A part that realizes that, for once, "meh" will not be an acceptable answer.  It could go either way--tricky stuff, those subconsciouses (subconsciousii?)

In any case.  I'll keep you posted.

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Listening to:  The sounds of one purring Moo Shu.

Here's the Skinny

I suppose if I am going to make any sort of semi-serious effort to post here I should tell you a little bit about myself.  So here goes...

I'm Karyn (duh).  I am a single mom to a rock awesome (in my totally biased opinion) nine-year-old daughter.  You'll see her pop up in most blogs as "the zilla".  The zilla was diagnosed with autism one month shy of her second birthday although my blog posts don't focus on autism nearly as much as they had in past years.  Another frequent source of bloggaliciousness is my boyfriend, J.  J. and I rock the long-distance thing.  For three years now (almost four). Yeah.  Really.  We do a lot of texting. :)  We also reside with an Oriental cat named Moo Shu.  Well...originally his name was Moo Shu.  Over the last year and a half his name has grown.  Currently, his full name is as follows:  Moo Shu Ninja-Cat Pork-Butt Schmooglehoffer Sagan.  The zilla adds to his name whenever the mood strikes her so as I type this his name could be changing.  I'll keep you posted.

What else?  Ah, I spend my days working with moderate-to-severely autistic children--the boys I have right now are aged 14-16. I won't lie.  It kick my ass every single day but I *love* my job. 

Ok.  So that isn't *it* but these little intro posts always make me feel like some Miss (am I too old for Miss?) America contestant and that just ain't my style.  If you have questions, ask.  I tend not to shy away from answers. ;)

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Mic Check--One, Two, One, Two...

Is this thing on?

So...yeah...hi.

I am so awful at this--the first post.  Every blog I have ever maintained (and there have been a number of them, let me tell you) struggled with "First Post Phobia".  I mean, this is it.  It's like a first date in the blog world.  Fuck this up and no one may ever read again.  That's a lot of pressure.  I suppose that's ok.  Quite honestly, I am still unsure of my intentions for this blog.  I have a wordpress blog that is fairly private and dates back quite some time (I use it to blog and consolidate old posts from blogs I no longer keep), but there is so much history there--my daughter's autism diagnosis, the dissolution of my marriage, the struggles to keep it all together as a single mom, the beginnings of my relationship with J...it's pretty weighty stuff.  And while I embrace the past, and all I have learned and the paths to which it led me, my daily (near daily, semi-frequently?) musings about the my life seem to deserve their own space.

So, this is it.  The first post in my new space.  The rest will most likely focus on our everyday lives.  They may be spicy and filled with explicatives or rather mundane postings of random recipes or things I have found and feel like sharing.  Mostly, it is a space for me to keep some sort of record of what becomes of the days that seem to slip by with an alarming rapidity.  Feel free to read and comment.  New friends are always welcome. :)

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