Day 152

I’ve gotten into this ugly cycle:  don’t sleep enough for the first four days of the week;  pass out at or before 5pm Thursday.  At least today I woke up and had dinner.

Day 151

So, I finally spaced out some beans and lettuce that I had started from seed (via miraculous intervention).  It was not a pretty sight.  All the roots were all tangled together because they were in such a small space and there were about a million of them…  Did I mention I’ve never gardened before (save a tomato plant one summer a couple of years ago that died after it produced a single fruit)?  Let alone started anything from seed?  I was ecstatic that anything had come up out of the dirt at all.

But then I sort of forgot about them other than to water them; underestimated how quickly they were growing and how big their roots were…  And now they’ve been moved and are pretty sad about it.  Pretty droopy.  Kind of die-y looking.  Dead-ish?

Here’s hoping they’re still alive tomorrow; and that water and sunshine will be enough for them.

Day 150

Ate too much watermelon. Too sleepy to say much. Just that I love watermelon.

Day 149

My birthday is this coming Saturday.  And it’s weird.  I used to be so excited for my birthday; I loved the chance for celebration and having cake and getting presents.  I also just love that feeling of time passing; another year come and gone and now only the future remains.  Now, though, maybe it doesn’t feel so fun to see time moving forward.  Or maybe it’s just that celebrating gets to be more difficult the older you get.  Or maybe I’ve just become too cynical in my (nearly) 25 years.

But back to the presents.  I love them.  All the time.  If you’re at all familiar with “the five love languages“, one of my biggest ways of feeling loved is through gifts.  Even very small, seemingly meaningless gifts are special to me.  I think it’s because it’s one of the only ways that I’ve ever felt love from my family.  Gifts on birthdays; gifts on Christmas; baskets at Easter; care packages; money tucked in cards just because.

My first year of college, I went to Ball State University.  I had a really hard time adjusting (in part because I had an INSANE roommate to start with)– I really just don’t transition well and those times of transition are almost always a time of depression for me.  But my mom would send me gifts of fruit and candy, sometimes just snacks like microwaveable popcorn; and I knew she was trying to tell me what she hardly ever actually vocalized:  that she loved me and wanted me to be happy.  That she cared about me.

It didn’t alter my life much, as I transferred at the end of the year anyway, but I felt good getting each gift, each surprise.  And sometimes she still sends me cards in the mail even though we live about 10 minutes apart now.  And she still gives me gifts.  And those are some of the few, fleeting moments where I feel like I know, I just absolutely know that she does love me.

And so my birthday.  My birthday is one of those times where I get to feel loved by people for certain.  I know you care about me because you take the time to choose a gift just for me; something special you think I’ll enjoy in some way.  Even if it’s not special at all; even if it’s just some small token.

And so my birthdays are less and less enjoyable because less and less people give you gifts as you grow older, I guess.  Which makes sense; I have fewer tangible wants.  A Sony Walkman isn’t going to blow my mind.  I don’t really want another Gameboy.  But I am still a gift-oriented person.  So sometimes that sucks because presents speak love; and no presents speak no love.

It’s just another part of growing up and older and on.  Dealing with a sense of loss and wondering what will replace that desire, if anything.  Maybe one day I’ll simply be happy with nothing.  But probably not.

Day 148

I’ve had these same library books checked out for the past… long time.  6 months?  I just keep renewing them.  And I just continue to ignore and forget about them.  I don’t think I actually care to read them, but something about letting them go and admitting defeat seems so awful that I just haven’t done it yet.

I guess I want to be a reader; to read at least one new book every month; to read fiction instead of self-help and how-to.  But I’m not right now.  I read more magazines than anything, and even those I can’t commit to any kind of subscription and just take handouts from friends, mom, or in-laws.

Reading an entire book seems daunting.  When will I find time?  And, as is the obsessive in me, I’ll almost never get the chance to read an entire book in one day/night for a while; not without paying dearly for it the next day, anyway.

I’m just not a great reader anymore.  I guess I never really was.  And I might never be.  I guess that’s something I just have to accept about myself.

Day 147

Well, my jam didn’t quite set up exactly as I’d hope; but it is freaking good.  OMiGOSH.  If you’re looking for a recipe, definitely try Food in Jars’ that I linked to yesterday.

Very sweaty today.  That is really all there was to it.  At this hour, anyway.  Too tired to think much.  Brain done.  Bye.

Day 146

Day 145 was skipped due to the fact that I went to bed at about 4:45pm yesterday and wasn’t awake again until sometime early this morning. Don’t worry, my kids did not, in fact, run around like feral cats while I was sleeping; my mom came over and watched them, fed them, bathed them, and even made them go to bed. I wish I felt like I got over 12 hours of sleep for the first time in forEVER, but I just feel tired still. Oh well.

Today, however stressful it is adjusting to having 4 kids under my care regularly for paid money (well, I don’t get money for watching my 2, unfortunately; although if someone would like to pay me on a weekly or biweekly basis for simply caring for them, I’m open to it.), I feel really good. I watched the kids. Got paid. Managed to make something for dinner. Found out Joe got employee of the month at his work (which means a giftcard for Cheesecake Factory for us to use on a date night tomorrow night! Oh, yeah!).

Guys, I made jam. Strawberry jam. All my jars pinged. I am… well, skeptical that it will actually be jam– it does still have to set, after all– but happy.  (And, in case you’re curious, I used this recipe from Food in Jars; a blog that I have followed for almost 2 years but never used a single recipe from.  Genius.)

I have plants that I started from actual seeds this year that sprouted. I am like a freaking pioneer woman over here! Except I love my air conditioning… I don’t know what kind of pioneer lady had that, but I’m that kind.

I’m hoping, too, to use some of the extra money we’ll have now from me working to put towards building a coop and buying chickens. Then: EGGS. Glorious, yummy, nutritious eggs.

Then, I think I’ll work on getting us a horse and buggy to take us around the city. Or maybe a rickshaw that Zoe can drive around and make some extra candy cash with.

Day 144

I am tired.  I am a little stressed.  I am very stressed.  And I was going to try to be very spiritual and not drink any alcohol to calm down and only pray.  But then I bought a 12 pack of hard cider.  It said it’s “naturally fermented”, okay?  My gut just needs that fermented goodness.

 

I am all kinds of cynical and angsty now.   And sweaty.  And hungry.

But I’m going to make jam sometime between now and tomorrow.  Even if it kills me.  Even if I end up with strawberry mush instead of jam.  It’s happening.  I’m doing it.  Fear of failure be damned!  I’m sucking up my pride, and I’m doing something I don’t yet know how to do.  Ugh… I’m probably going to suck at canning.  And also sweat a lot while doing it.

I’m not sure what the point of all this rambling is.  This blog should just be about me dealing with feelings and being upset about something most days.  About dealing with my demons.  Because that is what this is about, this blog.  It’s just my life.  Which happens to devoid of a father.  Who’s name is allegedly Hernandez.

Maybe that’s a deeper meaning to the title, then?  Hello, Hernandez can just be about me figuring me out.  Because there’s not enough of those blogs out there, right?  So few whiny 20-somethings unsure of their life and where they’re headed?  Right?  There’s not like a whole genre of film and television and literature devoted to that, right?

 

I don’t care if I’m original; I just care about being honest and (slightly more so?) funny.  That’s who I am right now.

Day 143

Today:

Slept in (thanks to Joe).

Woke up.

Fought with Joe (thanks to me).

Watered flowers.

Gave Zoe a trike.

Went strawberry pickin’.

Went to a friend’s.

Went to the in-laws’.

Put kids to bed.

THE END.

Today

Had a long, screamy day today.  Filled with poop.   I… quit life for the day. 

And wish I had some pie.