Monthly Archives: July 2018


It’s come to my attention that there’s some weirdness going on with impersonation in the comboxes in our general ‘sphere.

If you think I said something that’s off, please feel free to contact me directly and check if I actually said it.   Likewise, I have ways to contact quite a few old-school peeps, and am happy to do so.  (“Did X really say that?”  “Dunno, I’ll ask”).

Really, those of you who have “known” me for years – if you EVER think I say something egregious, feel free to bring it to my attention.  Faithful are the wounds of a friend and all that.    And if you don’t know me well enough to have my email address?  Use the comment section here or in one of my other blogs.  Think you see something weird?  Link me.

I have no patience for stupid games.   I didn’t play games when I was a teenager, I’m sure as heck not going to play them as a grown woman.  And it makes me more than a little angry when I see my friends attacked.

For reference, these are the blogs upon which I comment regularly:

  • Dark Brightness (and any of Chris’ blogs)
  • Bike Bubba
  • Els’ blog(s)
  • Julian’s blog
  • Wintery Knight
  • Hawaiian Libertarian
  • Jenny’s blog
  • Maeve’s blog
  • TxB’s blog
  • Various sewing blogs

Otherwise, I cut my comboxing down to the dead minimum.  Deep Strength linked me on a post, so I commented on that recently (if you invite me over for tea, I’ll come visit), but I haven’t been a regular there for quite a while.

If I wanted to write about Christian wifeyness or homemaking, I would.  I got bored of that at least five years ago – I’ve said what I wanted to say, and if I didn’t say it, someone else did.   Why do what’s already been done?  Boring.   If you have a question about that stuff, ask and I’ll answer.  Always happy to help.

I write this blog about matters of theology, faith stuff that I’m going through, and deeper life stage stuff (like the last post).   Why?   Because I hope those thoughts might be useful to someone – and just to “talk” things out.   This isn’t a “women’s blog” – that blog is over at HRG, if you want to know what my latest sewing project is and how the garden is going and … just life.   I also have a professional blog where I write about image consulting related things.  (Clothes/makeup/beauty/style/etc).  My other blogs (and there are a few) are all covered in dust, I don’t use them – but I do monitor their comboxes.

So.  What I’m saying?  If you see something weird, check it out.    ASK.



PS I’m feeling much better, God’s directing me to where He wants me to be on the daily basis in such ways that I’m a bit surprised by how quickly He’s moving and how detail oriented He is.    And yes, my husband FREQUENTLY challenges me and my nonsense.  One of the things that I appreciate about him.   This is normal behavior in my house.  If you don’t like what my husband says to me, or how he prioritizes our lives?  Get over it, you’re not in charge – I don’t live my life by committee approval.


My husband says I hide too much

Do you know what people don’t like?   People don’t like it when you don’t fit in their boxes.

I like people.  I don’t like it when people don’t like me.  I am, in fact, pretty darn squishy.  It upsets me when people run away.  So, I generally hide at least some of my facets.  It makes life so much easier…

I’m also smart.   Devout.  Kind.  Creative.  Cynical.   I have a pretty face, very feminine.  I’m strong.  I’m competent.   I’m intense.  I make a mean carrotcake.  I explain things in far too much detail in person, and far too little in writing.  I’m a loving person who thinks that on the whole, humans suck.   I couldn’t sell shoes to a centipede.   I am excellent one-on-one, if you want your soul examined – and I’m absolutely terrible at polite social interaction.  I’m forever missing the “right” response.   I tend to (when I’m being myself) stare at – or through – people.  People don’t like that.  I care.  I care about the fact that people don’t like it when I misstep, and I care about people, period.    Much of my thinking is visual and pattern based rather than verbal, and sometimes it’s hard for me to shove things into words.

The husband said of a friend of his that she was a teddy bear wrapped in barbed wire… and that *I* am a teddy bear stuffed with barbed wire – soft on the outside, hard on the inside.  Accurate enough, I’ve made more than a few people unhappy when they thought they could shove me around (I’m polite and mostly I prefer concession over conflict) until they slammed into the titanium I use as a backbone.   I’ve always thought that was rude – getting mad because I had limits that wouldn’t budge.   Did they think I … or anyone, really… was meant to be endlessly manipulated?  How insulting.

So what’s this all about, then?  Going back into the job market soon.   People.  -sigh-

I’ve spent ages learning how to play my part as a nice homeschooling mommy, learned to make small talk with the cashier at the grocery store and how to be softer and more transparent in general.  That takes up a HUGE amount of capacity for me, I have to think about it.  “What is it that I’m supposed to do now?”

And like physical muscles that go south without exercise, my concentration muscles are shot.  Mommies – in case you are wondering – do not get to spend time thinking about any one thing in a straight line for any length of time.   Life is made up of a thousand spinning plates, and you have to move from plate to plate keeping them moving.   That’s my life… and that life absolutely kills the mental muscles.   Oh, how embarrassing – one of my friends will send me something that I know I could have understood 20 years ago and now I would have to study up and concentrate to get it.   I *miss* proper thinking, and I find myself shying away from it because I’ve gotten so weak.   I’ve got a nice variety of experience, but little depth.

That’s very stressful, back when I wasn’t a mommy, I was valuable for my brain.  What am I, without my brain?  Do I get it back?  It’s rather late for that, isn’t it?  I’m 45… and do I want to do the sort of work I used to do?  Data analysis is BORING.  It’s not that I’m bad at it.  It’s just dull.  Of course, I don’t care so much, I always worked to make money and then go home.   Husband person said I should do some online tutorials and analyze all our money for the past year just to get back in practice.   Situps for the brain, I suppose.  Although those are very easy situps.   I prefer to analyze PEOPLE.  People are interesting.  (I don’t have to be good at social stuff to find people fascinating.  People, by the way, do not like it when you stir their brains around with a stick to find the crunchy bits – well, except when they need someone to find the crunchy bits for them.)   They won’t let you play with people without a license though, and it takes a long time to get a license.  Too long, and far too much game-playing.

That’s another way of hiding.  It’s hiding the soft bits and showing the hard bits.  Lately I’ve been hiding the hard bits and showing the soft bits.   Is there anywhere, anywhere at all, I get to be myself and not scare people off and be valued for what I am and get to work hard and bring value and make people happy?  I like to make people happy, and I like to be useful.  If I’m going to be of only limited use, we might as well put the masks on and spend as little time as possible in each other’s company, it’s so much simpler.

I’ve been hiding… he’s right.  (He’s always right, which is useful.  Annoying. But useful.  I only say “annoying” because it’s socially expected and mildly amusing.  I rely upon my husband’s insights). But men GET to be competent and people still like them.  Husband says the ones I scare off would leave eventually anyway.  (He’s right again).  But it hurts so when I see the rejection in people’s eyes…  I’m not supposed to be smart and care, I know that.  Too bad for me.  If I get pretty again – I’m fat now – that will only be another strike.   And of course I’m out of practice so I’m generally competent – but I don’t have relevant job skills.  UGH.  Well, tutorials will fix that, he’s right there.  Always practical.

I guess what this boils down to is that I have to put myself out there, and I get to choose whether I’ll wear a mask when I walk out the door or be myself, and I’m scared.  It hasn’t gone well in the past.  The masks make everything so.much.easier.

Do I have the courage?