I HATE CSS!
I HATE CODE!

Dammit, I'm a hardware chick. This stuff is hard....

P.S. Dear Martha, I know it looks like crap. It keeps looking fabulous and sparkly in my preview app. But not so much on the actual internet. Doesn't this sound a lot like my baking, too? I'm fixing it. As fast as Christmas/ Homeschooling/ Laundry/ Snow/ Dog allows. But don't stop with the lovely voicemails. I don't hear your voice nearly enough, and that's the truth. Love, me.

P.P.S. Just don't tell me you're still on Internet Explorer, OK? That stuff will rot your brains and let hackers into your system. Firefox, dearest. It rocks out and even knows a little nightmusic.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 07:34 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Chipping away at the stylesheets and the templates has gotten me close to my current idea for the New Layout - but not quite. And now the code is so cluttered that each tweak sets off a Butterfly Effect.

Ick.

For the next 3 days I will be blowing it all away and starting with clean code. The problem? My Apple-Indigenous coding software previews nothing like what it ends up looking on my screen. So this may be one giant leap for Elizabeth - and one bad, long, strange trip for her blog.

Stay tuned. Prayer is appreciated. Also? Chocolate.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 12:48 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I haven't wanted to say it out loud. To admit it. Because it feels like some kind of personal failure.

About a month ago, CD and I had a fight.

The worst knock-down drag-out say things you can never take back fight since I quit my job. A fight so harsh and biting that I began to realize how precarious my position is as a homemaker - as an unemployed former corporate semi-muckety-muck.

What if I have to walk out the door? I wondered. What if I have to pack up that little boy and myself and then...then... where would we go? How would we live? Oh Dear Lord, I am at his mercy!

As the argument raged on, storming over days like waves on waves, my panic climbing up the back of my throat with the icy fury. I don't think I've felt so utterly alone in years.

Maybe ever.

It's all been too much. Everything we've been going through these past months. For both of us. And we faltered and then fell. And CD did and said some stupid things that I am struggling hard to forgive. And a friend of mine stuck their nose in, and made it so much worse that my face should have exploded. And of course, I was a total witch about it all. I cried and I shouted and made a mess of any sense of grace I might have chosen.

We've slowly turned the corner, now. Like an 18-wheeler pulling a U-ey in the Target parking lot. Inching forward - carefully. I still have this faint headache and heartache. Things will take a while to heal up from this one.

Maybe Bear and I will take a small trip somewhere, shake loose a little of these aches that cling to me like lint on a sweater. I don't know.

You just never get "there". Wherever "there" is. I thought that our happiness inoculated us from this kind of a fight. I thought our survival of that long, painful trip to the edge of reason gave us some extra kind of flexibility and understanding. I thought, after all this time, that we'd finally found a gentle place in our relationship that precluded this kind of anger and odds.

I was so very, very wrong. And that? Just sucks more than I can say.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:37 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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1 Fighting with people we love is the worst because it can be so cruel. Cruel because you love each other and you know which buttons to push. If you didn't, it wouldn't hurt so much, you know? The important thing is that you both got back up in the cab of that semi and decided to make the U-turn, to steal your metaphor. It could have been so easy to let anger breed resentment and then emptiness. And maybe you know something now you didn't know before about who you are and who he is? For good or bad. You're not a failure for wanting to believe everything is good. Rose-colored glasses can really keep you going when everything else sucks. And you're not a failure for being wrong about that either. I figure it this way, if you're still working on it, there MUST be something good there to work on, right? or, you can ignore the busybody over here in the snowman PJs. Either way, she's sending you hugs.

Posted by: caltechgirl at December 10, 2008 07:32 PM (IfXtw)

2 It's so hard fighting with a spouse. I feel your pain and know how it aches inside. Lots of people don't even try to work through things and loose so much. I have always admired that you make decisions and stick by them. You definitely have a fire inside you. {{{hugs}}}

Posted by: Grace at December 11, 2008 01:45 AM (vB9Ys)

3 Thanks... I don't know if I have a fire inside of me or if it's just heartburn But I deeply appreciate the support. And definitely need to get me a pair of snowman jammies...

Posted by: Elizabeth at December 11, 2008 04:15 AM (DyeGv)

4 Oh, Elizabeth. That just sucks. It's always so hard when fighting, and especially so when you'd thought that you wouldn't have 'that fight' again. (Or 'that kind' of fight.) So many kudos to you for picking yourselves up and getting back in it - this stuff isn't easy, and unfortunately it's the hardest times when we need the most fortitude. I'll be thinking good thoughts for you, hoping that you make it back to solid ground soon.

Posted by: Alice at December 11, 2008 05:15 PM (8Xs3q)

5 {HUG} I am so, so sorry. Nothing rocks the ground beneath you like really bad spouse-fights. Well, there are things but spouse fights are right up there near the top of the list. I'm sending you good energy....warm fuzzy on a cold snowy night (have you looked out the window, its glorious!) Hope to see you soon! Blessed Christmas!

Posted by: Laura at December 16, 2008 01:52 PM (NhidO)

6 Late to the game (I'm late to everything these days), but just wanted to add my hope that things are better now. I hate feeling as though I've been alienated from the person I rely on the most. It's like walking on a ship deck during a typhoon. I like Bear's idea of just plowing ahead and doing some happy-feeling things, in hopes that the happiness will follow. Very wise, your boy.

Posted by: Ruth at December 16, 2008 03:52 PM (n3vJq)

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Sense of joy fills the air, And I daydream and I stare, Up at the tree and I see... Your star up there. And this is how I see you, In the snow on Christmas morning, Love and happiness surround you...
As you throw your arms up to the sky. I keep this moment...by and by.

- "Wintersong", Sarah McLachlan

I've been caught up in myself lately. I mean, in terms of Bear. He's an only child, and a homeschool kid at that. So if I'm not giving him my attention, well, then it's just him and the dog. And while she's cute - she's not much of a conversationalist.

Between Edward Scissorhands-ing my blog, finding a whole slew of CD's relatives on Facebook (hello, Iceland!), being all courageous with the bills, planning and executing a food budget that means everything is being made from scratch, writing/addressing Christmas cards, making lists - checking them twice, and generally tripping over the Christmas boxes to get anywhere... well, I'm sucking big eggs as a mom.

This morning, Bear crawled into bed with me (as you will) to catch some early(ish) morning one-on-one time. But one look at my expression and he had to ask me what's going on.

"The governor was arrested," I broke the news to my politico pre-teen.

"The bribing thing?" he asked, sounding disappointed but not surprised.

I nodded.

"Oh," he sighed, shaking his head. "That's not cool. It's Christmas. Who's going to sign the things he's supposed to sign so everything works all right? Is there a Vice Governor, I think?"

I nodded. "Lt. Governor Pat Quinn," I confirmed.

"So, that's good. But I guess it's not a good Christmas so far," he mused.

"For the governor, you mean? Or Illinois in general?"

"For the whole... everyone. Hardly anybody has their lights up. We don't even have a tree yet. It's like people are sad."

"Are you sad?" I asked.

"I guess," he sighed, reaching for my hand.

"But you were happy before. When Daddy got the new job, and I got better, and the new president was elected."

Bear gave me a long look and slowly nodded. "Mommy? Is bad mood contagious?"

"I think it is," I agreed.

"Is good mood contagious?"

"What do you think?"

"I think it is," he decided. "So maybe we could start it."

"How?"

"Put up some lights, maybe? And send cards to people. I don't know."

"All right," I agreed, feeling a little sparked by his enthusiasm. "Of course, we still have to start your new vocabulary list, and drop off the dry cleaning, and..."

"Hush," Bear laughed, finding the remote control. "How about you do some things, and I watch a cartoon, and then we do some good mood stuff?"

"I can get behind that," I agreed, slipping out of bed to make myself some coffee.

"Hey, Mommy?" he called, just as I was walking away.

"Yeah, hun?"

"Everything's gonna be all right, right?"

I thought a minute. Years slipping before my eyes. His faith in my answer weighing the words. "Yes, it is," I vowed. "It's going to be all right, soon enough."

"OK," he smiled.

And for a moment, we believed.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:22 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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Through the years, the one thing that I've learned to cook well is soup. I started about 15 years ago, when I had a taste of home-made squash soup (albeit made in the home of a chef). It was a revelation.

A year later, a woman named Brenda invited me over to her house for Borscht. I hated beets. Or so I thought.

By now, I can make about a dozen different soups well. My tomato-basil was my favorite last summer. I made ham-baked potato for CD earlier this week. And last night, feeling kinda blue, I simmered up some french onion with the last of that nice tawny port I had.

If pressed, I can served it with the bread and broiled cheese on top but I tend to eat it naked in a mug, steaming, with a roll for dipping and some cheese and apple wedges on the side.

I'm just my family's cook and too often I get dinner wrong. Clearly? I'm not a chef. I've never trained. Not even in my own childhood. No one made soup a part of their repertoire. My dad worked at Campbells for some years, so our soups came from a can with a red and white label.

But making soup is more than a sort of hidden, and probably somewhat useless, talent. It never fails to lift me from ennui, or sadness. And it makes me feel connected to the millions of pots of soups that have nourished and do sustain so many homes, hearths, and bellies for millenni. The different flavors, the different cultures, the different recipes handed down on index cards that grow grubby from use.

I guess there's something about making soup - the chopping, and stirring, the steam and scents - that heals my soul.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:30 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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If you hadn't noticed, I'm STILL re-coding the site.

First of all, it needed an overhaul. The CSS was so full of abandoned style choices that every time I tried to update something, I would trip over it all and it would become a mess. Just total freaking chaos.

Second of all, it needed to be organized. My archives are a mess. My categories less than helpful. And nothing was easy to navigate.

Third of all, I want rounded corners. I can't explain it, I just do. And that has meant figuring out CSS and Movable Type once and for all. Which? Ain't easy. Especially for a woman who sometimes wears her bras inside out.

And finally?

Well, we're getting to that.

Just, please, I beg you. Don't give up on me yet.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 03:28 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I'm not whining.

Just reeling.

The fallout from last summer continues to pile up.

While everyone (mostly) was supportive of me while I was "out of it", I continue to burn in real time from the after-effects.

From renegotiating debts (because I don't have the freelance money anymore) to making amends to people who feel betrayed that I missed out on some months of their lives.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to make it better. Some days I wake up and it's like reporting to an ongoing siege - looking at bills that got ignored and are now rimmed in red; leaving messages for people who don't call back; trying not to hyperventilate about making the COBRA payment (almost $1500/month).

If anyone has any advice, I'm listening. Because there is a part of me that is growing bitter and I hate it. I hate that there's snow on the ground and holiday cards to address and all I feel like doing is throwing my head back and screaming.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:30 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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