Part of the block in many parts of my life is that at this time, I am not finding much pleasure in anything. Everything (almost everything) seems like a chore, like something I *need* to do (and probably not for me).

I’ve also got a lack of focus problem, and I wonder if that’s part and parcel of just not liking anything right now.

I am simply overwhelmed at work, so the project that I am on that seemed like a challenge at one time, now has my writing brain freeze-locked. It’s just something I’m trying to slog through. I want it to go away. I also want to care about how good it is, but due to the fact that it’s grown from a challenge to an overwhelming, Herculean task, it’s hard to care anymore.

And when I’m not at work — well, we all know the refrain: kids, dinner, homework, soccer, baths, violin, blah blah blah.

I am never signing the girls up for soccer during the same season again. It’s been a nightmare of logistics, and I think the majority of Saturday games, Flora and Kate have been scheduled to play at the exact same time at two different fields. Because of Dan’s schedule, I either plead with my FIL to drive one of the girls or hire the nanny.

Additionally, taking three children to one child’s practice is exhausting. Thank goodness for picnic tables and playgrounds, but I’m constantly running back and forth and up and down between fields and playgrounds.

I’m afraid this lack of pleasure is leading to weight loss. I don’t actually know because I don’t regularly weigh myself. When you don’t have much of an appetite anyway, and nothing tastes good, it is easy to not eat enough. I am eating regularly, just probably not enough.

And reading, while harmless in and of itself, is leading to other problems. Namely, reading has become an escape hatch for me. I’m doing it to turn off my brain, not even for enjoyment anymore! I have to start picking some better stuff, because lately it’s been more about sticking it out to see what actually happens.

Dan and I got into an argument about something recently, and he challenged me: “Are *you* happy?” he asked. And I had to stop and think about it. It’s not that I’m overwhelmingly unhappy. But truth is I don’t have anything enjoyable in my life. I’m getting by with the little things I do have — Black Keys concert, Kentucky trip, dinner with a friend, Flora’s First Holy Communion party, little things my kids do, sex with my husband — but I don’t know that I would classify myself as happy. Overwhelmed, yes. Definitely. I told someone recently that my life is perfectly mundane, just busy. (Very, Very Busy.)

And I’m not really depressed, either. Maybe I have some dysthymia going on? (Although, I have to say, low self esteem is not one of my problems.)

Then again, maybe this is how it goes. Life, I mean. I don’t really have anything to bitch about.

If nothing else, at least I have something else to bring up in therapy.

It was a good time.

My husband and I looked very stylish.

I apologize if you are blinded by my lily-white legs. And even when those shoes started to hurt my feet, I was still happy to be where we were.

It’s fun to try new things.

For the record, we were not there on Derby Day. We went the day before, and saw The Kentucky Oaks, which is the filly-only race. And lots of other races.

We had great seats. That is the starting gate for the Oaks.

The next day, we got off to a late, lazy start. We only made it to one distillery. But it was a good one!

Left to right: Maker’s Mark original, Maker’s Mark 46, Maker’s Mark Mint Julep (only available in Kentucky).

And Dan got to hand dip his very own bottle.

Good friends, good drinks, good times. I may have to write a bucket list someday if only to put this past weekend’s activities on it to cross them out.

When’s the last time you did something for the first time?

Just kidding.

I got a 20-pound lot of ground beef through my CSA recently (here’s more information about the farm with which my CSA partners for this). I managed to give away/sell about 12 pounds to family and friends — which still leaves me with 8 pounds of meat.

As a vegetarian for the past 20+ years, I don’t have much experience cooking with meat. But as I’m married to an omnivore (and apparently raising one) I’ve been trying to improve.

Short version: I decided to try my hand at slow cooker chili on Saturday. I decide to use the beef and also some frozen whole tomatoes I had gotten my the CSA this winter; I was also going to make vegetarian chili, which I miss, because I haven’t been making it, because my boy is allergic to citric acid, which is in most canned tomato products.

Even shorter version: my chili needs work. Lots and lots of work. The meat eaters at dinner (Dan and my in-laws) gave me an A for effort, but like a C- on result.

Aside: Tomatoes. In a recent winter box, I got a bag of whole frozen tomatoes. I stuck them in my freezer, unsure of what to do with them. I searched around on the Internet, and discovered they are pretty easy to use. You just pull them out of the freezer and run them under warm water. The skins come right off; the cores are a little more problematic. If I decide to freeze tomatoes in the future, I will core them first.

Anyhoo, I miss tomatoes. I don’t get to cook with them regularly anymore because of M’s sensitivity.

I think I did okay with the tomatoes. I added garlic, spices, and carrots (for the chili). And, frankly, I think M still had some issues. I’m going to have to watch that little guy.

Back to the beef: As part of my attempt, I decided I had to try the meat chili. Which I did, at dinner. About two bites.

Here’s my impression: The meat seemed very … dry? Chewy, maybe. Not overly flavorful. The chili had *no* heat, which clearly needs to be rectified.

And, yes, I will probably try it again. I don’t know that I’ll down a whole bowl of it, but it’s not outside the realm of possibility.

My primary reason for being a vegetarian is that I just don’t like meat. I’m not sure I can say that anymore, because I don’t have the first idea what meat tastes like anymore.

Another reason for not eating meat is my strong antipathy for the animal products industry in this country. It’s horrid to the animals, it’s bad for the environment, and the end product isn’t healthy. It just seems unethical to me, and I don’t want to participate. (Don’t worry, I’m not going to give you a lecture on the animal products industry when we have dinner together. I’ll probably even serve meat if you eat at my house. I don’t eat meat; that’s my choice. If you choose differently, that’s fine.)

(My favorite take on the animal products industry in America comes from Michael Pollan’s book The Omnivore’s Dilemma. Great book; you should check it out if you’re curious about any of this stuff.)

As I’ve steadily continued consuming and serving locally grown and organic fruits and vegetables in my house, and then discovered organic and locally sourced cheese, milk, and eggs, I started noticing that local meat was available too. Mostly beef and chicken. In general, the animals are free-range, hormone- and antibiotic-free, fed naturally, and come from farms nearby.

And the thought crossed my mind: I could eat that kind of meat, I think. I wouldn’t have an ethical issue with that.

So the next question was: if push came to shove, would I?

Again, I only had a bite or two of the chili. It’s hardly enough to turn in my vegetarian card. I’ve explored getting chickens from my CSA, but they don’t deliver them to my pick up location — I’d have to go to the farm to get them. Once I make something good with the beef, I may give a serving of meat (say 4 ounces) a shot and see what happens.

Plus, if Kate is going to become an omnivore, I’d like her to realize that the cafeteria nuggets, burgers, and hot dogs, are not, actually, very good food.

If you were the kind of person to judge a book by its cover, so to speak, what kind of book would I be?

How I got here: I have a coworker who, if I judged him by his cover, I would label an aging hippie, in a positive way — he’s friendly, smiles a lot, wears Hawaiian shirts. I don’t know that he is; I don’t know anything about him. He works in a different department. He looks kind of like Jerry Garcia. Only cleaner. (Sorry, Grateful Dead fans.)

I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about what people think about me. I spend almost no time *worrying* about what people think about me. This isn’t necessarily a virture; my husband points that out regularly.

But I just wondered as I was walking around this place that I spend so much fricking time — 40 hours a week! — what people see.

And if I knew what that was, would I want to change it.

Incidentally and as a reference point, this is how I generally look:

or

or

(Only with less red eye.)

Do you judge people by their appearances? Do you worry that people judge you by your appearance?

And I was at work, trying to figure out what to write.

I’m tapped out this year for some reason. I didn’t even speculate about Santa!

I think Christmas happening on a Tuesday, and the basement sewage problem, and the national mood vis-a-vis guns and violence have all contributed to me being a little off.

And that’s okay.

Here’s one of my favorite things I ever wrote about Christmas; it’s from 2009.

“Somewhere, a baby was born. Somewhere, there was a star.”

(We’ve discovered some new Christmas albums this year — thanks, Spotify! Here’s “O Holy Night” as sung by the Glee cast. Still my favorite Christmas hymn ever.)

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

Last Thursday evening Dan made me put on shoes and come down the basement.

We’d been having an issue with some ghastly smell in our house. We’d rooted out at least three different things that it could have been (you don’t want to know), but still, it lingered.

We don’t use our basement. I mean, there’s a lot of stuff down there — well, there WAS a lot of stuff down there — but for the most part, we don’t go down there unless we’re bringing up seasonal decorations. Which we had been putting off (the smell was in the office or basement).

The basement sewer line had backed up.

It’s about as gross as you can imagine.

Dan, who was ill last week with the flu, literally waded in (he got some assistance from some friends), and started pulling stuff out. He rented a dumpster, and basically filled it with things that had been sitting on the floor. In about 2 inches of water and shit. A plumber friend of his came over on Friday evening, snaked the line, found the problem, and finished cleaning up the shit.

In the meantime, of course, there was a not-little earthquake in Newtown, Connecticut.

These two things (oh, and some parent-teacher meetings I have to schedule before Christmas break, another well-child visit for Michael because I was *super* late for the last one, living at my in-laws for three days — somehow *cleaning* the shit made the house smell even worse for awhile — and the seemingly endless #bathroomredo) not to mention the budget-busting expense of cleaning up and out the basement ten fricking days before Christmas, found me Saturday in quite a funk.

I spent the day in my pajamas, neglected to shower, avoided television and other news, choosing to unthinkingly read (a novel or People Magazine). I spent the day with my children, touched and hugged them a lot, I even managed not to yell at them too much — because, come on.

At first, I thought I was just being lazy, but when I was listening to A Very Special Christmas album (the first one) and toting up the dead artists, I realized I might be a little depressed. (Clarence Clemons, Jam Master Jay, Whitney Houston, June Pointer, in case you’re wondering.)

So I decided to go ahead and be depressed (and a little lazy).

Three days after the Newtown tragedy, and I still haven’t wrapped my head around it. Nor have I really had a good cry about that or about the destruction of my basement. Dan and I don’t know what can be salvaged, if anything. We did have cleaners come in Sunday to work on eliminating the smell and sanitizing the area. We’re meeting with a claims adjuster tomorrow morning.

In the meantime, I found comfort in this (h/t to Carpetbagger for reminding me):

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.“
— John 1:1–5

I still feel the need to cry for the families who lost children and family members on Friday. I still feel the need to cry for an America where this shit can go down and no one does anything. I still feel the need to cry for my losses too, even though they are trivial in comparison.

But I will not let the darkness overcome.