Flash Back Week #2: 1984

Idaho, summer 1983: me, my cousin Kristie and my sister Emily

March 1984: I was in the second half of first grade. My cousins had come to live with us after my aunt and uncle died. I moved into a new neighborhood, a new house, a new school. My teacher, Mrs. Owens, was a bright memory during a scary time. She had a curly mullet of black hair, a ready smile, and I loved her fiercely. She told me I should be an author when I grow up. I still remember. I hope you enjoy this lovely illustrated novel.

The Girl Who Lost Her Glasses

by Rachel Anne Melzer

Once upon a time there lived a little girl. In her land everybody had one heart shaped eye. That girl was spoiled because she got everything she wanted. She asked her mom for some money.

Her mom said yes, of course. So she went to the store and bought some glasses. She liked them a lot but one day she lost them at the park. She was looking for them and she found them!

But she was so sad still because they were cracked in the middle. She cried and cried but she got a new pair, of course, and she was so happy! And her glasses were too.

Flash Back Week: 1990

Welcome to flash back week. After digging through my old journals and writing assignments, I couldn't help but dedicate a week to sharing them with you. I hope you can feel the innocence, the awkwardness, the angst. And my, what a revelation. I would have never believed I was so obsessed with boys if I hadn't just read 7+ years worth of record keeping  testifying otherwise.

The year: 1990. I wear Vans for shoes and only clothes bought at the thrift store will do. I obsess about music and photography and my social life. I have not yet learned the art of plucking my eyebrows and I quit the marching band because I don't see myself as a band geek. When asked to write about a phobia I have, I write about autophobia: the fear of being alone or of oneself. I write an assignment "in partial fulfillment of the requirements for Honors Composition":

These senses stretch before me like a giant, white, blank wall. Patiently I wait, hoping that this blanket will lift exposing a full and creative mind. The days pass on long and boring as I try hopelessly to create. I try to paint a picture with words but it comes out a jumble of confusion, making no sense at all. The big final day draws closer with each breath I take, but still my brain and pencil do not connect and I fail the class.

I struggle and agonize. And write really depressing poetry:

Rachel

Look at this

Sick feeling

Chills creeping

Much sorrow

How? Why?

Worse than me

Want to let go

But I can't

These feelings

Bubbling up

Will I ever—

again?

I never want to

And now these

Pictures

Images

Flashing red

I found the gold mine but somebody

Already took the gold

And replaced it with gravel

Dark and grey

Why can't I forget?

Some things are better

Left unsaid

Never should have uttered

Should I forget?

Can I?

At least not feel it

This hurt

And

Pain

Gone.

Sometimes I still cry for that 14 year old girl that I was. 

In my perfect world

It would always be 11:00 am.

I could do all the things that require my creative energy when I have the biggest burst of it. I could: write, read, design, attend ballet class, and clean the house at the perfect time every day.

There would be 5 more closets in my house.

One for linens; one for games; one for cleaning supplies like brooms, mops, and vacuums; one for coats; and one empty one so I would have a place to cram everything into when someone shows up unexpectedly at my house.

We would have time and money.

It seems when we have one, we don't have the other.

How about you? What would your perfect world be like?

image from this etsy seller and appropriately titled: head in the clouds

 

family=home

Anna, Angela and I outside Pita Jungle

The morning I arrived at my mom's house in AZ, my sister Anna showed up. 

"What do you want to do while you're here?" she asked.

"Nothing. Except I want to eat out for every meal," I replied. She laughed but I was serious. And I did. Except breakfast and on Sunday. It was awesome.

Because I am choosing to do other things with my time [or possibly I am just feeling lazy], I am not going to do much of a post about our trip. And why should I when Anna has graciously recorded it all here for me to link too?

If you would like to see pictures of swimming, the zoo, the best restaurants in Mesa, and a jar of glow-in-the-dark scorpions, you should click that link.

I just wanted to recap the trip by saying when I am with my family I feel the most like myself. Sometimes I start to feel like I might be a little crazy. Because I bake my own bread, because I decide to do a detox cleanse and shop at thrift stores, because I like to argue with people and blurt out jokes at inappropriate times, because I buy agave nectar and have adult ADD. And then I hang out with my family and it all seems so normal. So right. So much like home.

I love you all, family. You are the best. Thank you for dropping everything while I was there.

Angela: thank you for taking work off all day Friday and showing me the best thrift shops. you made me feel more special than the Special Olympics.

Clint: thank you for playing double catch with me and trying to convince me that Dumb and Dumber is funny. 

Jason: thanks for going to QT with me.

Anna: thank you for taking me to the zoo in 112° weather and making me feel like you had nothing better to do than hang out with me every second I was there. And for being my photographer.

Mom: thanks for letting me feel right at home at your house. My kids think all grandmas have roller coasters in their kitchens. And for inviting me because I probably would have just stayed in Utah crying myself to sleep.

Lilly: thanks for letting me sleep in your pristine, brand new room before you even got a chance. It felt a little like heaven.

Dad: you work too much. One word: retirement

Ryan: thanks for having an "argument" with Mom about lock jaw. I still think it's funny, weeks later. And that doesn't mean I am picking sides here. Also, you are a beautiful father of four beautiful girls. If Mr. Coleman and I ever die, you will have 8 kids to raise. Have you thought about that recently?

Steven: I don't have to say it, do I? Thanks for being the one to listen to my problems and crying with me, and being my date because Mr. Coleman had to stay and work in Utah.

You all showered me with love and made me feel like the center of attention. I love you.

 

I thought I broke my toe.

But really I didn't. I woke up Sunday night/Monday morning to severe pain that I could not sleep through. My big toe joint has been bothering me for months, but suddenly things took a turn for the worse. I could not sleep or walk due to the pain—a devastating blow considering I am a mother of four. Two key factors of doing it successfully: sleeping AND walking. Naturally, I blamed it on the Primary Sacrament Program. Wouldn't you?

After I broke out in a sweat while trying to use a Costco shopping cart as a walker I decided to buckle down and get it x-rayed.

This is not a joke. In the last 24 hours I:

:: started my detox/cleansing diet.

:: threw up the coconut water. (yes, it really is that gross. Maybe I'll try to freeze it and eat it like a popsicle.)

:: found out I have beautiful, unbroken toe bones.

:: found out I actually have gout. yes, GOUT*.

:: realized the salad greens I just purchased at Costco (a crucial ingredient in the detox diet i started) were all moldy. 

:: realized the shallot I just purchased was moldy

:: realized there was no way in h@#$ I was going back to the store to re-buy these things given my level of foot pain.

:: realized that the medicine I have to take for my gout is severely toxic to the liver/kidneys.

:: realized I will not be able to start my detox diet until I finish taking the medicine.

:: ate 6 chocolate chip cookies after putting the detox diet on hold.

:: hobbled into my kids elementary school to pick up Casey, who called home sick.

:: lost Lucas and Emma at the school, but couldn't walk around to find them, and Casey was too sick, so we just sat in the van in the parking lot until they eventually came out.

:: started reading Catching Fire

:: tended to Casey, who was shaking, feverish and throwing up all night.

:: tended to Lucas, who was also sick, and who slept in my bed.

:: finished reading Catching Fire at 4 am. Totally worth it.

:: realize Mr. Coleman forgot to wheel out the trash cans for garbage day. I use them as a crutch while I wheel them to the curb and it's not so  bad.

:: come inside to find a BIRD in my house. 

:: spend 20 minutes half hopping, half hobbling, screaming, with a broom in one hand and a butterfly net in the other, trying to direct the insane swallow out of my house. [This did absolutely nothing for my bird phobia, as you can imagine. They are evil!]

:: clean up bird poop all over my walls, pictures, tile, carpet, and pancake griddle.

:: tend to a hysterical Emma, who came home from kindergarten with a fresh bee sting and a giant, swollen thumb.

Now I am leaving for the pediatrician's office. Lucas: pink eye or allergic reaction. Emma: bee sting. Casey: possible N1H1. That's my guess considering the last 24 hours. And I thought I could get some writing time in today. HA.

So, obviously, no picture to accompany this post.

*the disease that typically strikes overweight, inactive men who eat too much meat and drink too much alcohol. Quite an ironic turn of events, considering I run 6 miles a day, have not had a drop of alcohol since I was 15, and eat meat about once or twice a week. Oh, and also, I am not a man, nor a menopausal woman.

cleanse

Talk about a crappy week. Actually, let's not, okay? Moving along, I refuse to have another week like the last!

So, enough of feeling sorry for myself, being a grump, and feeling sick.  I will be accountable for my mood. I will let more light in. I will take charge. Watch out world.

Also, I am starting a 3 week detox diet that I found here. I'm hoping it will help me kick this lingering sickness and boost me out of this little gray rain cloud.

Anyone care to join me?

that explains a lot

Recently, I was reading an article entitled "Gifted People and Their Problems" which I received from my daughter's new gifted program at school. This list of "problems" hit strangely close to home. It claims a gifted child may:

-get bored with routine tasks [mopping and other housework anyone?]

-resist changing away from interesting topics or activities

-be overly critical of self and others, impatient with failure, perfectionistic [the root of all my relationship problems]

-disagree vocally with others, argue with teachers

-make jokes or puns at times adults consider inappropriate [especially bad when you hold a leadership calling at church]

-be so emotionally sensitive and empathetic that adults consider it an overreaction, may get angry, or cry when things go wrong or seem unfair

-ignore details, turn in messy work [why I will never be an excellent painter or seamstress]

-reject authority, be non-conforming, stubborn

-dominate or withdraw in cooperative learning situations

All this time I've been blaming myself for my inability to overcome certain weaknesses of mine, when I really could have blamed my dad, who I inherited my genius-ness from.  This explained so much for me. And I made Mr. Coleman read it too so he could appreciate what I'm dealing with a little more.

In other news, I bought my first pair of skinny jeans, which I photographed myself in, and wore out in public. But I still think they emphasize everything I hate about my body. I really bought them to wear with my tall boots. I think that may be the only legitimate reason for wearing them.

My baby is three. Here is the recent transcript from an interview with said three-year-old:

Me: Lucas, did you have a birthday?

Lucas: Ya 

**singing "happy birthday to you"**

Me: What did you do for your birthday?

Lucas: I didn't do anything. Mom, look at these letters. Big huge circle.

**drawing on paper**

Me: Tell me what it's like to be three.

Lucas: I'm gonna color you, your face. I'm gonna kill you, mom. 

**takes a drink of root beer, then starts singing "happy birthday" again.**

Well, that about sums up Lucas. 

Also, if you make cupcakes and find that they have spread all over the pan and created a ginormous mess, just double the frosting and hope that no one notices. It worked for us.