Rambling a bit... But in a good way.

I used to have big ideas.
I used to speak intelligently about art and music.
I once discussed philosophy at two in the morning on the steps of a fountain in weather so cold that my breath froze into tiny perfect crystals before it fully left my mouth.
I was passionate and articulate.
I was also a size two.

And, somewhere between there and here, I've grown. And I've grown up. And, for the most part, I do not regret this. I have three amazingly gorgeous and intelligent Munchkins. I've left my legacy in their soon-to-be-capable hands. I am a confident woman who's finally grown comfortable in her own skin. I'm capable of balancing my checkbook, snaking a drain, parallel parking downtown in three moves, reading bed time stories and choosing both a good bottle of wine and a ripe cantaloupe.
I have cultivated friendships that are extensions of my family. I finally understand what it is that I'm good at and am able to draw confidence, for the most part, and poise around me like an armor these days. And yet, despite all that, sometimes all it takes is something as simple as a bad romantic comedy to bring the shattered bits of my heart to point.
I know love isn't fluff and fairy tales. I know, with every bit of intelligent thought that I possess, that there IS no perfect guy out there waiting to sweep me off my feet. That love, true love, is about work and commitment as much as it is rainbows and puppies and holding hands. It's about sharing a part of yourself even if it hurts. But sometimes, late at night, when I'm curled up on the couch, I close my eyes and want.
I want the spark. I want that moment that the world goes all slo-mo and blurred at the edges like a David Bowie video; That moment your stomach does carnival-ride flip flops. I want that moment where your skin prickles and your breath hitches in anticipation.
Call it fake. Call it temporary. Explain it away in lab terms and chem words if you want.
But, oh, that moment. That first spark of excitement that unfurls at the base of your spine; licks it's way up the back of your neck and sends fingers of awareness to wrap around your brain, winding its way through every limb.
There's nothing like it.
It's a glance. A half smile. the anticipation of something new that's makes me giddy in that grey area between pleasure and pain.
It's worth it.

Deep-seated sighs ensue.

Why does talking to people that I once loved with my whole heart leave me so drained and empty sometimes?

Little Lion Man
~Mumford and Sons~

Weep for yourself, my man,
you'll never be what is in your heart
weep little lion man,
you're not as brave as you were at the start
rate yourself and rake yourself,
take all the courage you have left
wasted on fixing all the problems
that you made in your own head

but it was not your fault but mine
and it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
didn't I, my dear?
didn't I, my...

tremble for yourself, my man,
you know that you have seen this all before
tremble little lion man,
you'll never settle for any of your scores
your grace is wasted in your face,
your boldness stands alone among the wreck
learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck

but it was not your fault but mine
and it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
didn't I, my dear?

but it was not your fault but mine
and it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
didn't I, my dear?
didn't I, my dear?

but it was not your fault but mine
and it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
didn't I, my dear?

but it was not your fault but mine
and it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
didn't I, my dear?
didn't I, my dear?

Gloriously Unfinished

I have become lost in craft blogs lately.

I want to make a dress, refinish a lampshade, recover throw pillows and refashion some of my ex-husbands old dress shirts into sundresses for the girls.

The problem? Big ideas. Poor follow through. I've started a million projects. I have an amazing set of purses started, but not a single one finished. I have started skirts and dresses and belts and headbands. I've made three-quarters of iron man and cinderella costumes. I've made some silk pajama pants, but not the tops yet. I love wandering the aisles of fabric and picturing all the projects they could become. I like letting my fingers play over chenille's and jerseys and silks. I like to match colored zippers to neutral linens to create a shocking little contrast. I've got jars of buttons, drawers of fasteners and half-projects litter my dining room table and computer desk and bedroom alcove.

I am hopeless.

Ain't it grand?

family

Isn't it funny how, as you grow up, your family grows with you.
So that before you know it, it not only includes those people you're related to, but also your best friends, the sisters of your heart, the friends you never knew you couldn't live with. Then it includes their families, their kids, and their friends. Soon it includes the people you've loved and the ones who love you, the ones that have broken your heart and the ones that have stolen huge chunks of it. Until, before you know it, you've lost sight of the boundaries of the circle, and it's just become a sea of people who keep you afloat...

To diet or Not to diet...that is the question

This is NOT about body image.
I've finally reached the point in my life where I'm confident in myself.
I eat what and when I want because I enjoy food. no. I LOVE food.
(except for marshmallows, but that's a texture thing and you all know this)
I like how I look. I'm comfortable with me.
No, this diet or no diet qualm is strictly from a practical point of view. See:

Pro:
I really need to lose a few pounds so that I can fit my ass back into my size four pants. I'm cheap and pants are not. Also, it is swimsuit season.

Con:
My boobs have not filled out a bra so well since I was preggers with #2. If I diet, that will surely be the first thing to go, as opposed to that layer of pie-and-peanut-butter-ice cream-after-8pm that I'm keeping securely on my hips & tummy.

What's a girl to do?