December 19th, 2019
Since I got relatively no sleep off and on this week (this week being whatever week I started this post… which was December 19th), as the husband is out of town, the baby has been waking up repeatedly, and my mind has been itself), I found myself naturally refuse to nap when I could. One of such encounters was because I’ve been so enticed by… ocarinas! I had one years ago that I think I got from Epcot or Disney World, but after reading GeekMamas’ blog post about STL Ocarinas, I am still on youtube watching people play them. Do I detect a new item for the Christmas wishlist?
But then when I was on the actual site I encountered dilemmas. One, the ocarinas are expensive, and two, which one would I choose? THERE ARE SO MANY CHOICES?! Though actually I am drawn to bass sounds so obviously I like the sold out one. It sounds delicious, like a hollowed out gourd from a rich forest hidden from man for eons. Who knows if I’ll get one. I was really hoping to get back into playing piano, but Figlet is at a weird stage where she pushes my hands away whenever I try to play (rude!), so I’m waiting it out.
For those who have known me a great many years, you are probably familiar with my second language dilemma. Essentially, I want to learn all languages, or any one that I am exposed to, and as a result I’ve mastered none. I took French in middle school through high school, but then decided I would take Mandarin in college (because I had lots of friends who spoke it at home and I thought I’d be able to practice it a lot more in my daily life). After the first year, my biology classes conflicted with the Mandarin ones, so I switched to German (because I am part German and have family living there). Why didn’t I take French at that point? I figured I was too behind to start it up again for college credit. But alas, the same conflict happened the following year with bio and German! Now I have a sporadic dabbling of language exposure under my belt but nothing concrete enough to make me fluent.
What’s a girl to do? Lately, since I got close to some level of comfortable conversation with French, I’ve been redoubling my efforts there. And by that I mean watching shows on Netflix (Le Chalet for the second time and Plan Coeur/The Hookup Plan) and speaking aloud to my toddler, in what is probably very bad French (sorry in advance Figlet!). My motivation is that I strongly feel kinship to the people in the south of France (at least from their depictions in the books I obsessively read). They feel like feral hobbits with their obsession with their gardens and resultant meals, and that’s my thing. Or it would be more if I could garden now (but we moved into the house we are renting late November). Also I can’t stop dreaming of lavender… but more on that when the seasons change and I can play in some dirt.
I am now in the stage where I am reaching out to figure out where to become a hospice volunteer…
February 25th, 2020
I’m not sure where I was going with this post initially, and especially with the death profession thoughts as it’s been over two months. But the title sentiment still stands, though the situation as changed. Around month 19 or so of Figlet’s life, she started legitimately sleeping through the night. It took me a while longer to remember how to do the same, but I eventually achieved it and am now someone who, when I go to sleep, I pass the eff out. But unfortunately, another chunk of teeth are wreaking havoc in the little one’s mouth and so she has been waking up more erratically again. Last night, it was at 2am, and after getting up, neither the husb or I could go back to sleep so we have now devolved into zombie-esque creatures. Figlet has also been boycotting naps for a week now, but I magically managed to get her to sleep and finally got to laid down in my own bed and then… I started reading. I am reading Stephen King’s Danse Macabre, his only nonfiction I believe, which is a book that delves into why people (like me) like horror (books/movies) and why they continue to be so popular. It’s pretty interesting and so I happily forgo napping, and just bank on the magical full nights of sleep I am not guaranteed to bolster me over.