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Archive for the ‘31 Days’ Category

When I think of the things I like about spring and summer, it’s a short list, and it’s mostly food. The fresh produce in Texas during summer, y’all? Amazing. I mean, it’s good all year, really, because we don’t have proper seasons. But that first bite of ripe peach in late June/early July almost makes me forgive it for being 14,000 degrees outside.

During childhood, summer meant swimming lessons and the occasional church camp. Mostly it meant more time to read and being locked outside to “enjoy the sunlight, dammit.” We have a big backyard at the farm, so there were often games set up for the family or whoever else moseyed on by to play. I still have a scar from running into the horseshoe post while playing frisbee. My favorite game we played was croquet. Spoiler alert for my 50th birthday coming up in a few years – I may have a Wonderland party, complete with an ongoing game of croquet. That seems like a fitting way to end half a century and kick off the spring.

Summertime is synonymous with play to me. I never quite shook the summer vacation vibe, even though I no longer work in a job where I have summers off (or at least with a lighter workload). I’m more spontaneous during the summer. I’m more likely to say yes when people say, “Hey, if you’re not doing anything tonight, join us for ___!” Unless it’s outside. Because WHY. What about Texas outside in the summer is fun at all?

For the last few years, I’ve posted a summer bucket list that is often full of fun things that I want to remember to enjoy, like farmers’ markets, swimming, fresh flowers, and snow cones. My food staples are typically fruit, salad, and sandwiches because it’s too hot to cook. I make several batches of sun tea, and I usually have a signature potion or two that I particularly like that season (this past summer was a toss-up between hibiscus and fresh mint).

I’m also more likely to adopt a signature cocktail over the summer. Some of my summer favorites include:

Summer hygge is capturing that perfect lazy afternoon by the pool with a good book and an umbrella drink. Days like that almost trick me into forgetting the weather.

Every season has its lush moments.

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(Disclosure – some of the links in this post get me some sort of bonus if you sign up. No pressure – just seemed right to let you know.)

I’m not sure when I went from viewing shopping as a nice outing to absolutely despising it. But I’m fully entrenched in avoiding it at all costs these days. I have eaten some of the weirdest concoctions for dinner just to put off going to the grocery store another day. Shoe shopping, one of my former favorite pastimes, is nothing but a chore. And trying on clothes? Forget it. I’ve gotten pretty good at guessing if something will fit so I can just grab it and go.

The only type of shopping I still like is browsing a bookstore, and unless I have a few hours to look around, I usually need the motivation of picking up an online order or meeting a favorite author who’s signing their books to get me there.

But luckily, services such as automated shipments and subscriptions exist. They make my life so much better.

I am part of three book clubs – Literati, Fantastic Strangelings, and Happy Endings – that ship me each month’s selection. All the paper goods I used – toilet paper, facial tissues, the occasional roll of paper towels – are on timed shipments. So are most of my toiletries and cleaning supplies. I order coffee and tea online (or pick up supplements at church). I don’t remember the last time I went inside the liquor store, because as it turns out, they will all bring my order right to my car, as will the grocery store (when they manage to get the order right).

I’m looking for a reliable way to have all my pantry staples routinely sent to my doorstep. Do you have a service you like? Leave it in the comments. Pretty please.

Part of having a lush life is finding ways to make tedious chores easier (or outsource them altogether). Subscriptions take so many errands off my to-do list, and I love that.

I’m writing about the lush life this month.

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I have a lot of mementos of past achievements hanging around my apartment. I keep the ones around that hold mostly good memories that helped to guide the path I’ve taken and to shape the person I’ve become. I’ve had to get rid of others that hold bad memories or simply prompt the question, “What was I thinking?”

I know exactly what I was thinking. That I did it because it would be a nice thing to do. Or because it was something to achieve that would look good on a resume. I did it because I could.

I’ve talked a lot with therapists about how could and should are not the same word.

We’ve also discussed my issues as a former gifted kid. Turns out, it wasn’t just perfectionism and undiagnosed anxiety and depression. It was also an almost constant state of burnout. I just thought that was normal. If I wasn’t exhausted, I must not be working hard enough. Who knew that wasn’t healthy? Oh, everyone knew that? OK, then.

[PSA – I’m fairly confident you’re working hard enough. Why don’t you take a break? Maybe have some water? When was the last time you ate something?]

One of the hardest parts of this unraveling is figuring out what constitutes a reasonable expectation. It’s been over twenty years since I earned that last tassel, and taking the highest possible level of achievement and internalizing it as an expectation is still one of my biggest struggles.

I have made a lot of progress. It’s gotten pretty easy to see when other people’s expectations of me are unreasonable, and I often have a visceral reaction to them, especially when they don’t align with my values. The example that springs to mind is when someone said to me, “Oh, so you’re not really using your degree at all?” when I talked about my job. First, my degrees are in communication, so the fact that I had the superior diplomacy skills necessary to refrain from imitating a velociraptor when she said that was itself an example of using my degree. Second, the idea that something is only worthwhile if it can be used to earn money disgusts me. Especially something as rich and formative as the whole of my college experience was. The very idea that I am somehow obligated to capitalize on all my knowledge, talents, skills, and connections doesn’t live up to my standards at all.

[Another PSA – If your college experience was not rich or formative, you didn’t necessarily do it wrong. As someone who has spent her whole career in higher education, I’m fairly confident it was them, not you.]

Most of my struggles lie in overcoming my own unreasonable expectations of myself. I still say yes way too often simply because I can. Because I know I’ll be good at it. Because I know it will be helpful. Because I know it would probably take me less time to do it than it will take someone else with less experience. And if it ends up taking me longer than I think it should, I am brutal with myself. Once, I was berating myself for turning in something later than I wanted to (still before the deadline, mind you – just not as early as I had planned) and my boss said, “You know you are still the first to turn it in, right? No one else has finished yet.” And without missing a beat, I responded, “Yes, but I’m extraordinary.” To his credit, he did not laugh in my face. He just let it sit there and marinate. And I took a much-needed walk.

As I’ve been trying to cut out the things that I’m involved in that don’t really bring me joy or stress me out, I’ve been bumping up against all the expectations I’ve taken on. I suspect that’s why the process is harder than I hoped it would be. But if I want the lush life I envision, I must work to move on from these responsibilities and the expectations that hold me to them.

Sometimes you have to fight for the lush life you want.

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Now I’m going to take the question about the month-long paid sabbatical and daydream about what I would do if resources weren’t restricted by my current reality.

Most of the month would probably stay the same. I’d still visit friends and family, take day trips, hang out in bookstores and coffee shops, caffeinate significantly, and enjoy having more writing time.

My day trips might turn into longer excursions, though. I’d like to revisit my bookstore or coffee shop road trip idea (still open to guest posts, by the way. Click the link in the previous sentence for details.). Add to my coffee cup collection. I’d also like to spend a week or so in a cabin on the beach, reading and writing and listening to the waves. Or maybe I’d finally cross one of the countries that intrigue me off my bucket list.

Hmm. I might need more than a month.

As long as we’re making wishes, I’d also like a partner who is there for all of it. Well, most of it. I’m still going to need some me time, although probably not as much. Someone who is a good match for me would be one of those rare folks I’m so comfortable with that being with them is almost as relaxing as being alone. I imagine having someone like that to share my everyday life with (sabbatical or not) would up its lush factor a bit.

Because even when I take a week or two off and spend the time the way I’ve outlined here, it’s bittersweet. I haven’t talked about loneliness in a while, but it still permeates most of my days. It’s not as bad as it could be. I’m rich in friendships, and I have good relationships with people at work (which some days, is the only reason I stay). But while friendships are just as important as romantic relationships, they’re not the same. There’s still a specific something missing.

So my lush, unrestricted sabbatical would not just be me and a bottomless bank account. There would also be someone to wake up to and someone in the passenger’s seat, happy to be along for the ride.

I’m daydreaming about a lot of things that make up a lush life this month.

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Actually sitting down to have a leisurely breakfast is one of my favorite parts of any day off.

Prompt from Montana Happy – “If your boss gave you a month-long paid sabbatical, what would you do and where would you go?”

I’m going to take the question at face value and assume current resources, relationships, etc.

If I had a month to do anything, and both my jobs continued to pay me my full salary, I’d use part of the time off to go see friends I haven’t seen in ages. Drive down to Houston to see Maggie and to San Antonio to see Hope. An extra trip to the farm.

I’d also enjoy day trips to local-ish bookstores that are just enough out of the way that I hardly ever have time to go, like Wild Detectives, Deep Vellum, Interabang, etc. Maybe an overnight jaunt with Sarah up to Magic City.

Otherwise, since all the resources I have would still have to be used to pay the bills, I’d probably keep most of the rest of my schedule, which would keep me in town for the most part. But a few things might change. Since I wouldn’t have to get up at a specific time for work, I’d probably get to see more friends’ shows. Driving down to Dallas mid-week (or, let’s be real, even staying out late in Denton mid-week) wouldn’t be that big of a deal. I’d have leisurely mornings and drink a lot more coffee without worrying about whether it will keep me up too late because there’s no such thing as too late when you’re on sabbatical. I’d get to devote large chunks of time to working on several of my WIPs and doing creative things. I’d probably get my house in something closer to order.

Even assuming no extra resources, just thinking of this possibility has relaxed me.

This idea is sounding better and better.

I think I’m starting to grasp what a lush life looks like to me.

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I am spending time with my parents at the farm for a few days. The pictures speak for themselves.

I’m musing about the lush life this month.

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Self-care corner

Several posts over the next few days are inspired by some of the hygge journal prompts from the Montana Happy blog. Today’s question –

“How do you pamper yourself? What are some other things you can do to give yourself more love?”

I used to be really good at this. I scheduled regular manicures and pedicures. In addition to regular hair appointments, I also got frequent massages and facials. I had specific days of the week set aside for all the pampering I did for myself, and I made it a priority.

It’s no mystery why I stopped. These things take time, energy, and money. I simply had more time and energy in my 20s, and I definitely had more disposable income when I split major bills with a roommate or two. Additionally, I have felt like I was in constant survival mode for many of the years between then and now, and it’s really easy when you’re in that frame of mind to see self-care as something extra you do if you have time.

But real self-care isn’t extra. It’s essential.

I don’t want to go back to most of those habits. I had a manicurist/pedicurist I really liked then, and no one else I’ve tried since she quit to open a real estate business with her friend provides the level of service she did (PSA to service providers who touch people for a living – don’t just dive in and get started. Ask questions. Is the pressure ok? Can I use this lotion/oil? Do you prefer a different scent or no scent? How is the temperature? Do you prefer conversation or quiet time? Etc.). In fact, while I still enjoy the occasional manicure, after several lackluster appointments, I had one particularly bad experience during a pedicure (there was bleeding involved) that pretty much soured me on the whole concept.

I do have a colorist/stylist I love. She takes good care of my curls and creates an absolutely serene environment during the appointment. But I need serenity more often than an hour and a half every eight weeks.

In addition to basics like finding a therapist I like and buying quality toiletries (I’m particularly picky about hair products and facial cleansers/moisturizers), there are several other habits I am trying to work back into my weekly schedule:

  • Dinner by candlelight
  • Luxurious foot soaks
  • Face mask (focus on deep cleansing in the summer, hydrating in the winter)
  • Exquisite pastries
  • Daily stretches (morning and bedtime)

It sometimes stresses me out to put these things on my to-do list (ugh one more thing to do), but when I manage to fit them in, I never regret the time I spend showing myself a little more love.

Loving yourself is definitely part of having a lush life.

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I can actually smell this picture.

One of my hesitations with choosing lush as my theme for the year was that it might get expensive. When I think of what lush means, I imagine extravagance and living my best life (whatever that means). I was concerned that I would be tempted to spend more money than I needed to in order to turn my life into what I imagined it could become.

I am delighted to find, however, that a truly lush life is for everyone. In fact, an obsession with consumption and spending beyond my means is, in most ways, in direct opposition to the life I actually want.

I think what attracts me most to hygge is how egalitarian it is. The goal is not to impress with fancy parties or expensive things. In fact, according to Wiking, “the more money and prestige is associated with something, the less hyggeligt it becomes.” There’s nothing wrong with toasting your friends with champagne, but if you’re going for warmth and comfort, a simple cup of tea or hot chocolate is better suited to the task. I think having a lush life is the same way. I’d rather chop up a ton of veggies and invite everyone over for soup than have to be stingier with the guest list to keep my grocery bill in check.

Many of my thoughts about what having a lush life means to me come back to community care. Everyone has something to contribute, and someone can always benefit from your excess. Growing up in a small farming community taught me this. When someone grows more peas than they can eat, the neighbors get fed, too. When our fruit trees were full, our friends were welcome to help themselves. One of my favorite holiday memories is getting to eat homemade tamales from Mom’s friend Bertha in exchange for a couple of Mom’s meringue pies.

Of course, community care goes beyond feeding each other, but it’s a good start. The joys of sharing a simple meal or talking over coffee are part of a lush life that everyone can experience.

I’m musing about the lush life this month.

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Words, books, and mugs. And bats (because Halloween).

My desk at work is typically sparse and no-nonsense. This is likely a residual effect from working for so long in shared spaces where I didn’t have any personal space that was just my own. But this month, I’ve actually decorated the space, and it makes a big difference in its coziness. It’s still not a great location, but at least I am surrounded by things I love.

My home office is one of my favorite spaces in my apartment. Even when it’s impossibly messy (as it is now, which is why there’s no picture), it’s still cozy. It sparks creativity and excitement about whatever project I happen to be working on. I occasionally take my laptop into the living room because I think it will be more comfortable, but I almost always end up back in the office before my task is complete. I write faster and better in the office.

I think one of the reasons for this is that I have purposefully designed my home office to represent the life I want to eventually have. Once I’m retired from UNT and have more time to write and create (and perhaps actually make a dent in reading my gargantuan collection), I imagine doing so in a place that looks just like this room. So when I step through the door, I can almost pretend I’m already there.

I spend a lot of time thinking about the perfect bookshelf. I lean toward the tall and simple, but I have to admit that I’m mesmerized by the more asymmetrical pieces. I really love the look of them. Maybe I’ll have more of them in my home if I ever move into a larger space. One of my bookshelves is sort of like that. It folds into the corner, and it’s not as tall as the rest, so the top shelf is more decorative with a cute bookend and a large cup and saucer planter.

Imagine an elephant holding up the books on the left. So cute!

I have old coffee cups and mason jars scattered throughout the room, holding everything from pens and pencils to binder clips or bookmarks. My current knitting project sits at my feet by the desk so that I have something to do with my hands during meetings.

And of course, I’m surrounded by books. That alone would make it a hard space to beat.

In seeking ways to create a lush life, it’s been amazing to discover that just tweaking the physical environment is enough to put me in a more extravagant and abundant headspace.

Do you have a particular space that fuels your creativity? What’s it like?

I’m writing about the lush life all month.

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Dang, I love a clean, shiny floor.

When I think about my ideal lush home, I see fresh flowers on the table. Endless bookshelves. Oversized, comfy chairs with warm blankets draped over them and plenty of large throw pillows to cuddle or use as floor cushions. A place to put my feet up.

Then I look around me, and I see a side table full of tea cups that haven’t quite made it to the kitchen to be washed yet. Dishes piled up in the sink. Dust bunnies lurking in the corners. And omg, the piles and piles and PILES of paper.

I was talking to my friend Stephanie lately about the challenges we both face when it comes to maintaining a clean and tidy living space. It was a cathartic conversation, and she shared some helpful resources she’s been using lately. I’ve also been reading Susan Pinsky’s Organizing Solutions for People with ADHD, and it’s been useful, too. This step-by-step approach is helping me work through my overwhelm, and I’m so grateful.

Because nowhere in my vision of a lush life is a messy apartment. I find mess distracting and frustrating, but I can’t quite seem to get a handle on it. I’ve had problems with this for as long as I can remember. Every Saturday, I would complete my assigned housekeeping task for the house (vacuuming) and then spend the rest of Saturday working on my bedroom. And it would look very much the same hours later than it did when I started. I always thought I was just lazy or too busy, but I’ve since noticed that I spend just as much time (if not more) working on my home as others. I get distracted, so there are a lot of half-done tasks strewn throughout my space. Then I get overwhelmed and suddenly every unfinished job seems to have ten times the number of steps than it did before. Then I sit down and binge-watch a familiar show until the pressure subsides, at least until I notice how much is still left to do. Then the cycle repeats.

Part of my goal this year has been to find ways to break this cycle and create a maintenance plan that works for me. I track six general cleaning categories – dishes, laundry, trash, bathroom, tidying, and miscellaneous (which includes any task, such as dusting or vacuuming, that won’t ever need to be done every day) – and I try to check off at least four a day. It doesn’t matter how much time I spend on each of them as long as I can see that none of them are being neglected for more than a day or two. It’s been working much more slowly than I would like, but it has been working, and that’s the important part.

Another resource that helps is this post that reframes cleaning as a hygge activity (there’s also a Facebook group). Lots of inspiration and motivation. My perfectionist brain tells me, “You shouldn’t have to be motivated to adult properly,” but my functional brain thinks my perfectionist brain is an unhelpful asshole and needs to shut it.

[It’s ok to tell the nagging, judgy parts of your brain to mind their business. Shame has no place in this plan.]

Trying to fix the things in my life that haven’t worked for a long time is challenging (and sometimes exhausting), but it’s all part of creating a lush life.

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