It’s a holiday, so I took the night off. But just so you don’t miss any of the Miss Mouse awesomeness, here’s a guest post portrait by Carl.
Just chillin’ at Aunt Julie and Uncle Cameron’s.
A great first Halloween.
I am working on the mystery again. This requires reading a previously untapped P. D. James novel sitting on my shelf (naturally), pulling out the 106 pages of first draft I’d churned out before the baby was born, and stacking on the bedside table any number of reference books of social history and notebooks of random comments like “everyone must have secrets!” and “absolutely NO monologuing villains!”
I’ve only gotten far enough to revisit the outline, revamp the characters, reread the first draft chapter and pick out paragraphs and pages that might be salvageable. No actual writing. It’s hard. Iris usually only naps for about half an hour, and to be honest it’s frustrating to nicely get in a groove just in time to hear her polite where-are-you cry that isn’t really a cry but will become one if unattended. I like being happy to hear her, and so far that means no writing during the day.
I do hole up in coffee shops a couple of evenings a week—or rather I was, until Carl’s work schedule got insane. But I will again.
Right now I’m just enjoying the windy rainstorm blowing through Michigan, drinking my coffee, reading a mystery novel, and trying to take one tiny bite out of the project every day. Less than baby steps. Baby turtle steps.
Any kind of progress feels good.
In Hawaii, we had some delicious kahlua pig—once at the Polynesian Cultural Center and once in some amazing burritos on the beach. But this snap is from last night when we became truly one with the kahlua pig by baking an entire kahlua cake just for the three of us.
I promise I don’t let her go crazy with the sugar every day, and we are actually (slowly) cutting out a lot of processed carbs from our diet (haven’t bought soda in months). But I don’t see myself ever getting to the point where I cry foul on every dessert.
Mindfulness is all I’m aiming for.
It’s pretty amazing how much carbage there is in the typical American diet when you think about it. And I could really go off about this book I think everyone should read (Good Calorie, Bad Calorie), and how my sister-in-law Carlie and I made a low-carb pact this summer (she is much better at it than I am), and how I almost immediately dropped the last, stubborn 10 pounds of baby weight… just from cutting out the breads and rice and pastas. I pay no attention to fat. I sauté things in real butter. I have heavy cream in my coffee every morning. I eat bacon and eggs for breakfast, and I am never hungry.
I have—full disclosure—also gotten tired of eggy things for breakfast. And I haven’t continued to lose any weight since I started cheating with kahlua cakes and pancakes. Although I haven’t gained anything back either.
I also suspect people have different thresholds for eating carbs without upsetting the body balance, and from what I can tell mine is somewhere in the ballpark of about 100 grams per day.
Now… if only I didn’t like baking so much…
I remember in bed. Getting up being out of the question really, I snag Carl’s iPhone and after only one misfire (the top of my head being missing) and almost dropping it on our faces and both being blinded by the stupid flash: there we are.
Then email to myself and upload to WordPress.
Here we are.
Tired and achy and stressed, yet unwilling to go to sleep just yet. Instead we gloat over video of Iris in the bath tub–how sweet and silly she looks having her downy hair rinsed out. Laugh about stupid things and watch random trailers.
So hard to sleep.
So little time to be just us.
I don’t know much about photography, but I have learned that when you take a super blown out, unfocused picture and you don’t really have the time or energy to take a better one, the only really intelligent option is to throw an intense filter on that sucker and pretend YOU MEANT TO DO IT ALL ALONG.
Cuteness you can almost taste.
I did have a decent excuse yesterday, as Joel and I spent most of the day coming up with a concept and scripting and shooting and editing a 2 minute short film. Because… it seemed like the thing to do. Are there better reasons for doing things?
I’m not sure there are.
In more regretful news, I wish there was more time for actually communicating things. We had some good talks about creativity and art and life and books, and there are lots of things I would like to write about if Iris wasn’t (not making this up) climbing all over me shrieking “Ai-eeeeee. EEEEEEEEEE. Yi-GEEEEEEEEEEE” in a plaintive, injured way.