Friday, July 23rd 2010
In Which We See Why Metaphors Are Not My Friends. Again. (Moo.)

In this house there are things that just are – things that I just no longer see because they’re a constant. Things I should have fixed ages ago and didn’t. I’m still not. I’m writing about them instead because yeah, that’s helpful.

*the little white plastic cow that sits next to my shampoo. Why is it there? Why is it always on its back, feet up, like a dead bug? Why does it never move, despite that area getting clean every week? I think the housekeeper must put him carefully back in that feet up position every Monday. (oh that’s awful, i should stop writing about him and go move him right this second.  Her. I think it’s a girl cow, actually.)

*the blue tape edging off the baseboards in one tiny hallway near Seth-4yr’s room. I put it there… many months ago and then ran out of the right color paint and never got more and never took the tape off. Oh my gosh, this one really bugs me now. Suddenly. A lot.

*a really neat Christmas present to me from Mike, still in very large box, on Mike’s side of bed. It requires  a bike, which I never bought, and so I never took the thing out of the box, and there it is. Still. It is July.

*boxes of bottled water, perpetually on the dining room floor. But it’s always new ones, as they do get used. It’s just that they get delivered to the front porch, I move them in, and halfway across the dining room the box handles break because of box weight/poor cardboard engineering and design flaws, and I put them down and they never make it to the kitchen. Need a new system. Maybe the plastic cow can help. She really needs a change of scenery anyway. A feet-down, heads-up perspective on life.

*the stacks and stacks of books on both my nightstand and Mike’s. I clean mine off. They’re there the next day. They invite their friends, they multiply, they just congregate there by the dozen and for years I’ve been helpless against their determination. But they’re books, and it’s a nightstand, and at least this one makes sense so it doesn’t bother me as much.

*Years ago we had a really good

(um… what? Mike came in just now and brought me food even though I told him not to – so sweet – and we talked for a minute and then I came back to that sentence and have no idea what it means. “Years ago we had a really good….” what?! Huh. That’s frustrating. I mean, whatever it was, it was ‘really good’ and I assume we no longer have it because there’s the whole past tense thing going on… gah. Writer should not be stumped/driven nuts/totally annoyed by own lame cliffhanger fragment about own life written just 3 minutes before. Thanks, short term memory.)

* hole in laundry room wall, courtesy of overzealous door flinging open action. I am just as guilty as kids. More so, actually. They get their overzealous door flinging style from me.  It makes sense that I am also the hole-patcher in this house. I need to get to this one (again) soon.

{funny. Mike is back from being out of town and is in the living room talking to the boys about something and I can only hear the words, “No ONE! NO ONE! NO! one!” And I can tell he’s very serious about whatever he’s saying, and can’t help but admire the way he said the same phrase 3 times, consecutively, with 3 unique inflections on those 2 words. Awesome. I think it was way crucial to life as we know it and also had something to do with wii remotes.}

Okay. Since the whole forgotten phrase thing I just can’t get back on board with this post. I keep re-reading it and thinking I’ll remember the rest of that oh so important point or at least remember all the other things that were to follow, and I can’t.

I’m suddenly quite distracted by the thought that maybe I AM THE GIRL COW. Perhaps I am in one spot, in a position that makes no sense, and not moving and I need to fix this. Fix things. Fix all the stuff on the list and then some and all the weird but equally untouched odd family dynamics that make about as much sense as the bottled water and the unopened Christmas present. And that sounds like a lot of work for one girl cow. I do not want to be the upside down girl cow. NO ONE! No! ONE! No ONE! wants to be an upside down girl cow next to the shampoo. Ha! Change of random metaphor. “I am the hole patcher in this house.” Sounds better. No udder required.

holy CRAP I just re-read this and it sounds nuts but I’m leaving it because it’s oddly quite real and real is good even when it’s nuts and i don’t have time to write something that makes me sound more sane -and is thus probably less ‘real’ – as I have a newfound awareness of all the things i need to be fixing today and forever-after, and also my sister gets here tonight. busy. good thing I’ve been you know, blogging, with all my spare time this morning.


4 Comments on “In Which We See Why Metaphors Are Not My Friends. Again. (Moo.)”

July 23rd, 2010
11:06 am

I reeeeally enjoyed your rambling blog today. It was charming and real. My own thoughts are about that clear most of the time, only I would never have the guts to imagine people might want to hear about it and lo and behold they do! I feel so much more confident and comfortable with my own blogging freedom now.

I don’t know how, but your blog has become like a self help book to me …

Btw…that painters tape might never come off if it’s been on there that long. I’ve had some bad experiences with the stuff needing to be scraped off after long periods of procrastination.

July 23rd, 2010
11:39 am

WHOAH, girl, in 3 parts:

1) it’s futile to guess what people do/do not want to hear about and I refuse to let that matter. that helps.

2) if this is in any way self-helpish, OHMYGOSH get a therapist rightthissecondbeforeit’stoolate. I am doing far more damage than good, and that is a pretty safe bet.

3) the painter’s tape? really? CRAP. (but thanks for telling me)


July 23rd, 2010
9:44 pm

I’m a little frightened by the fact that what you said about being the upside down girl cow makes perfect sense to me. Maybe you and your sister can figure out together what to do about her. I hope you have a great time filled with lots of snorty laughs while she visits.

July 27th, 2010
3:22 pm

Kelsey, I just spent three months talking to a life coach who tried to convince me of the beauty of my uniqueness and to ‘love myself’ and to embrace it, etc… And I tried, but I couldn’t get past feeling like I’m just an awkward oddball. She forbade me to use the word ‘paranoid’ about myself and tried to get me to stop using self deprecating statements.

Reading your blog has done more toward the self help cause for me, than anything. You make it all seem beautiful and ‘cool’ to be odd and quirky. Learning through example is what it’s all about. You can instruct someone to let it all go and ‘be like this’ or ‘think like that’ but knowing where the destination is and actually seeing the road to get there are two totally different things.

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