Tales from the Shoebox.

Got my pre-proposal back from my advisor. I was scared to read it, despite her enthusiasm. I have this inferiority complex & I never think that anyone is going to think that anything I do is good enough. Seriously, because I was a “smart kid,” in TAG & everything, my parents expected me to do everything good ALL THE TIME. A B+ wasn’t good enough. My mother swears she never put that on me, but she did. “I don’t expect you to do anything but your best” was her favorite phrase, but then she knew that my “best” was an A, so she always expected them. So now I have this “why try, it’s just going to suck” problem, and while in certain situations sucking is a good thing (that’s your low-brow humor of the day, thanks & you’re welcome), that’s no attitude to have. Instead of just not trying, I try really really really hard to impress everyone all the time, and it’s taking a while to find a balance but I’m getting there. Thanks to my roommate freshman year of college, I’m much less awkward than I used to be (WWJW: What Would Jes Wear?), but that overarching feeling of “what if I’m not good enough” is enough to paralyze me sometimes.

As we stood on the corner waiting for the light to change, I noticed the display in the bridal shop across the street. I turned to her and asked, “If you could change anything about your wedding, just one thing, what would it be?” She thought for a moment and shook her head. “What?” I asked. “No, I can’t, it’s horrible,” she replied. “What?” “My first thought was, I wouldn’t marry him. Isn’t that terrible?” “Not terrible, just honest,” I said as we made our way south. Months later, in mixed company, she claimed to live with no regrets.

I’ve been working on this post all day, and now Boogermonkey’s in bed with Llamaface, babbling away. He’s usually out within five minutes of Daddy going in there, but for whatever reason tonight he’s just making noises and frustrating Llama. Llama wants to watch “Wife Swap,” and I’ll be damned if I allow that sludge to infiltrate my living room. We have enough of our own issues without watching other people air theirs on national television for fun and profit.

Dear god, chcolate fudge brownie Ben & Jerry’s is good. Maybe I should eat a pint of this every day in an effort to stave off the major weight loss that’s still happening 10 months post-partum. Seriously, I can pull a 3 off without unbuttoning them, but my thighs are too big for a 1. The hell?

We went to the beach yesterday. Llama had the day off, and mentioned a few days ago that he felt the need to “get away somewhere.” After I smacked down the prospect of going away for two days without Booger (he’s not even a year old yet and is still nursing. Not only would I have to pump two days’ worth of freezer stash, I’d have to pump every two hours while we were away & run the risk of breast refusal when we got back. Not my idea of a good time!), I filed the idea away. It was supposed to be nicer on the beach yesterday than in the entire rest of the state, and it was. We drove out to Florence, played on the beach, had lunch, drove north to Newport, spent an hour at the aquarium (would have stayed longer, but they close at 5:00 Labor Day-Memorial Day), then came back. Pit-stopped at Ruby Tuesday’s in Corvallis for (mediocre) dinner, and put Booger to bed a little late but tired enough that he slept straight through, save his nightly diaper change.

Both s00per-sekkr1t projects are done, finished the first one a few days ago, and finished the other yesterday, save a button and a ribbon. Loved the yarn (Manos del Uruguay 113: wildflowers). I’m thinking a few wraps will be made with the leftovers. I made one already, but I have to fix it so the proportions are right, since the gauge is different than the gauge for which I wrote my fledgling pattern.

And with that, I’m done. I know there was more I wanted to say/write about, but I’m tapped. G’night all.