everyday life

Time to read 100 blogs

Kathryn emailed me after my last post, asking about what the 100 blogs a day I read are and how I manage to read them.

In reverse order, my answers. First, I have all kinds of time. I know, nobody believes this. I get an endless number of “how do you do it?” comments. But the truth is, I have a ton of time. I work part-time, my children are both in school or camp most of the day, I have a lot of excellent help. My kids go to bed early and they watch TV every day. And it takes a lot to get me out of the house in the evening (here: an example of something I’ll go out for), so I have lots of time to read. I remember a few years ago at a dinner party explaining to the man on my right that when evaluating potential plans I measure everything against the other option of being home in bed reading. I could see the sheer horror on his face when I said this, and it deepened into something more like terror when I allowed that very few plans make it past this screen (boy do I sound like a super fun person).

I also don’t watch TV. Ever. Not by some conscious moral choice (as I said, my children are avid SpongeBob watchers) but more because I just stopped watching when the writers’ strike was on and never got back into it. I spend plenty of time in front of this computer screen, and I do watch Gossip Girl on my iPhone during long flights, but I literally cannot remember the last time I turned on the television for anything other than the children.

Second, what do I read? Well, my favorite blogs are under the “reading” tab above. But I read lots more. I have long thought that the contents of someone’s google reader (and run, don’t walk, if you don’t already use reader – what a great way to aggregate blog feeds and read them all in one place) is a good snapshot of who they are. Or at least of their interests. Mine fall into several categories: motherhood bloggers, technology, celebrity gossip, books/literary reviews, food/cooking blogs, and other general inspirational/deep thoughts kinds of writing. Bouff, happy to give you a peek at my reader anytime!

Now, off to go read the 120 items in my queue.

This is what 35 looks like.

I am a bundle of contradictions at 35, of details old and young, of emotions and preferences both conflicting and complimentary. As Whitman says, fine, I contradict myself. What else do you expect, after all, for I contain multitudes.

This is what 35 looks like, today.

At night I use both Neutrogena acne cream for occasional pimples and retinoids for the wrinkles around my eyes that show up when I smile and, in truth, when I don’t.
I listen to Taylor Swift and James Taylor, to Raffi and to year-round Christmas carols.
I wear rubber flip flops and 4 inch Manolos.
I don’t have any gray hair but my breasts definitely aren’t what they used to be.
I like my white wine on ice and my water at room temp.
I carry both an iPhone and a blackberry (blackberry only because work won’t support the iPhone).
I have a lot of friends but truly trust very few people.
I read more than 20 magazines monthly and more than 100 blogs a day.
I can recite both Goodnight Moon and Tennyson’s Crossing the Bar by heart.
There are things I want dearly that I can’t have, and things I have that I prize highly.
I still can’t drive a stickshift.
I am one of the most overly sensitive people I know, and I’m still waiting to figure out the way this can be a strength.
I have had a mammogram but the last time I went to the doctor they had to use the child blood-pressure cuff on me.
I aspire to live a life with more stillness, but I move almost always at a frenetic pace.
I drink copious amounts of white wine but am a big chicken about hard liquor or most cocktails.
I own tens of girl-sized logo tee-shirts and approaching fifty cashmere sweaters.
I delivered two children without medication but I complain ad nauseum about a slightly tweaky knee, wrist, ankle, or other assorted aches and pains.
I have used Suave shampoo and Cetaphil for as long as I can remember, and I am utterly incompetent when it comes to makeup.
I like it super cold when I sleep, but I always need to kick a foot out from under the covers.
I hate talking on the phone but could email and text all day long.
I have an MBA but I have little interest in business.
I get a bin of organic produce every week but a lot of the time I eat cheese sticks and red licorice for dinner.
I am tone deaf so I listen to music mostly for the lyrics.
I am terrible at laundry, refusing to sort darks and whites, but very anal about kitchen counters being clean and dishes being put away.
I have two children, including a first grader, and most of the time I’m still waiting for the actual mother to come home.

the other side

Well, I made it. I’m on the other side. It has been, unsurprisingly, a reflective weekend.

Today I went for a sail with Grace, Whit, Matt, and my parents. We were on our way out of the harbor when I looked around the cockpit, wondering why there were only five people onboard when I was fairly sure there should be six. It honestly took me several minutes to realize that it was because I was not counting myself.

This strikes me as a fairly sad metaphor.

On Friday night Mum, Dad, Matt and I all did the online Myers-Briggs. I have long been a big Myers-Briggs (MBTI) believer and a committed ENFJ (a personality type represented by something like less than 1% of all HBS students, which explains a lot of my experience there). I’m all J (anal, on time, organized, rigid) and all F (feeling vs. thinking, classic heart vs. head). On E (extraverted vs. introverted) and N (intuitive vs. sensing, ie big picture/intuition/instinct vs. details/data/granular) I have always been closer to the middle.

It is emblematic of either enormous confusion or major tectonic plate-shifting that my Myers-Briggs type has actually changed since the last time I took it. On Friday night I came up as an ISFJ. It doesn’t surprise me that I am now officially an I (though still quite borderline). I find myself more and more internally oriented, though the MBTI description of E vs. I is more nuanced than classic introvert vs. extrovert (I won’t bore you all with it now, but suffice it to say many classic “extroverted” personalities are actually MBTI intraverts).

The one that troubles me is that I am apparently now marginally more S than N (still, only 1% over the midpoint, but I used to be quite N). This concerns me because it seems to hint at deep uncertainty and distrust of my own intuition, something I have always felt quite sure about. I need to spend some time thinking what it is that the test (admittedly a short, internet-friendly version) is picking up on. As much as the overall movement from E to I makes sense to me, that from S to N does not.

More thinking required on that particular topic.

What else from the other side of 35? Well, it was really really hot today. I ran 6 miles and my knee hurt less in the last 3 than the first, which I think means either something really good or something really bad (I suspect the latter, sadly). The children are overtired and cranky. Grace reminded me of myself today in a spooky way: on the boat she was reading down below and I kept asking her questions. She finally burst into tears and I looked at her, surprised, and asked what was going on. “Mummy! I just want to read!” she said, exasperated. I get it, kid, I really do.

Oh, and Aidan, your post touched me deeply, more than you know. Thank you so much for your kind words. I wish I saw myself the way you seem to; even as I read your generous descriptions I hear the voice in my head: well that isn’t true, of course not! I’m very grateful that our paths crossed out here in the wilderness and I simply cannot wait to read Blackberry Girl!!

Saturday August 15

Trip to the annual Marion Library used book sale was successful. Grace had a huge tantrum over only being able to pick out two books (last night I bought about 40 for them at the night before event, which Dad and I went to early and waited outside of for pole position). She overcame that tantrum and they were briefly angelic while waiting for Mum to emerge from the sale.
Grace, perhaps inspired by the sale, did the thing I’ve been waiting for forever: took to the couch with a book and read to herself. Oh, I have arrived at the promised land: I walked in to see what she was doing and she looked up only long enough to shoo me away with “I am reading, Mummy.”
Birthday champs from Bouff, complete with orange ribbon. Thank you!!!
The unmitigated delight of a boy given sudden and unfettered access to a huge crate of various water guns (contraband at home).
Grace and Eloise skipping home wearing our hats.