Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

Dear Chocolate Chip Cookies,

It's not you, it's me.

I feel like there's a healthy limit to how committed a person should be to their dessert foods, and I think we've been way beyond that point for a few years now. It's gotten to the point where I can't even look at another cookie without feeling like I'm cheating on you. I can't eat another cookie without thinking of it as caloric waste--because it's not you. And we never even said this was exclusive.

See, the thing is, I'd like to be able to enjoy other cookies again. No, there are no other cookies in my life right now, but the holidays are coming, and I need to know I can eat melt-aways and sugar cookies and heirloom cookies without feeling guilty. I guess what I'm saying is... I need a break.

We tried to spice things up for a while by adding oatmeal, but we just never found a recipe that was right for us.

It's not just that I need to experience other cookies, but it would be awesome if my grandma-arms went away. Maybe there will be space between my thighs again, maybe not. But I know I've at least got to try to reclaim my abs. Maybe someday we'll live in a world where both can exist happily.

I hope we can still be friends.

Love,

Becca

What's Goin' On

I can't believe how much easier this recovery has been compared to my recovery with W. With him, it took me well over a year--as a matter of fact, I was only feeling back to "normal" for a couple months before getting pregnant with Miss Ada. This time around--surely, by the grace of God--I already feel like my normal self again. I've got energy to exercise, I'm back to working on various projects around the house, I get ready every day, my house is mostly clean, and I feel like walking pretty much everywhere. So here are a few pics from some recent walks.

A few weeks ago, we decided to head downtown and check out all the construction. A couple city blocks near Temple Square are almost completely boarded up away from where the public can take a good look. But I love downtown Salt Lake City (lived here for 10 years, can you believe it? Longer than I've lived anywhere), so I put my journalism training to good use and got invasive:

(As you can see, City Creek Center is shaping up nicely--opening March 22, 2012)

Chris's mom came out for a few days as well, and Sam (Chris's brother) and Laura and Andrew all came to our place and we wandered around Temple Square. Will and Andrew were hamming it up big time:

(When I told Andrew to say cheese, he posed like this for me all on his own. This kid cracks me up.)

(So does this kid.)

And here's one of Miss Ada, just because it makes me smile:

Every Year

Every year, I tell myself I'm not going to get sucked into all the sensational coverage of the September 11 attacks. And every year, I get sucked in. This year, though, I saw one program that was actually pretty intelligent. It was called Faith and Doubt at Ground Zero, and you can watch it here at pbs.org. Originally broadcast on September 3, 2002, it's a series of interviews with religious leaders and non-believers talking about their faith (or the lack thereof) in connection with the terrorist attacks. I've been thinking about this statement for a few days now:

"I came to think that art is exactly not what religion is, that it's not about absolutes and it has to do with the condition of being human, which is not ever to be able to deal with absolutes, that we deal in a world of doubts, a world of uncertainties, a world of ironies." --Kirk Varendoe, former MoMA director

This statement bothers me, because it implies that it is the nature of religion to be incapable of addressing the human condition as Mr. Varendoe defines it; as though somehow all that religion has to offer are hollow, empty absolutes and a blind eye to the difficulty of simply being human.

These are not meant to be fighting words. But I feel that there is an understanding of religion--true religion--that only comes when we give it a good, honest try. It's why the Savior told us that if we experimented upon his word we would know for ourselves if He was truly divine, or whether he was just some guy trying to grab at power. For those of us with faith, we know that religion is much more than a set of principles and absolutes that inform our lives, that it is profoundly helpful in addressing that gray area between absolutes.

I am a person of faith, and I live in the same world of uncertainty, doubts, and ironies as people who have no religion. I live in the same world that has so very few absolutes that I can rely on. I live in that same gray-shaded area. I believe that's why I'm here to begin with; that I am here to navigate my way through things that are difficult, ugly, uncertain, and downright tragic at times. It is the single greatest lesson I personally need to learn in my life: that I am capable.

Can't tell you how many times I've wished I could throw my hands up, shake my fists at Heaven and say, "That's it! This is the breaking point! I am not strong enough to withstand this kind of trial! If you push me much further, you might just lose me altogether." And it's in those moments that I realize that, frankly, I'm full of crap. I realize that I'm not even close to abandoning belief, and no trial of any size is likely to remove me from my faith. Why? Not because religion has all the answers, that's for sure. Because it doesn't. But because I have been blessed with help beyond my own capacity. When times get hard, I find that if I choose it, I can rise above the trouble to a place that is untroubled. I find that no matter how much I wish it were untrue, I can withstand many, many things; this leads me to believe that there is something divine in me--something that is more than the uncertainty, more than the doubt, more than the sorrow and sadness. This leads me to believe that I am a child of a loving God.

If you were to ask me why I believe, I'm not sure it would be some earth-shattering thing. It's not because I have seen miracles (although I have), and it's not because it just makes sense (although it does). It's because I've lived it and I've never once regretted the life it has given me. I have never made the decision to do what is "right" by my standards and wished I'd made a different choice. Never, not once. I find that believing in a set of values is beyond helpful in making my way through the gray area. I'd say that's a pretty good track record for faith.

Two Peas

The other day, I took these photos of Miss Ada:

Then I remembered these ones of W:

They totally look like siblings! It's amazing to me how early gender differences are manifest. She looks a LOT like how I remember W looking--only, she's so very feminine. Love it.

Stuffocation Solutions

So, it seems my penchant for de-junking is more than just a pregnancy-induced mania to get rid of everything I own. Almost 2 months after baby girl was born, I carry the strong desire to discard excess. I see small piles of clutter all over my home. I'm not a slob, but I'm much more tidy when things have their own proper place. I dislike relocating sections of my pantry or cupboards to fit whatever space it seems to take up at any given moment. I always want to know that my canned goods belong one specific place, my boxes of cereal in their own place, etc. But if some item that appears on a rotating basis in my home (such as bills to be paid) doesn't have a regular and functional space to live in, my organizational world turns upside down. Said item floats from one surface to the next until it is dealt with and discarded--only to cause chaos once more when its replacement arrives.

I am not a hoarder, but I did once love collecting and holding on to sentimental things. In fact, I accumulated so many sentimental things that that was all I ever decorated with: knickknacks (if you forget my feelings about knickknacks and the like, read the asterisk beginning with "stuff"). One day in college I looked around my space and thought, "Wow. All this stuff is cool and funky, and I hate all of it." On a personal style level, anyway. All it really comes down to is that my living space did not/does not say what I want it to say. My space is beautiful, don't get me wrong. But right now it says, "warm and inviting," when what I want it to say is "calm and relaxing." A nuance, maybe, but those descriptions conjure up very different decor ideas in my mind. I'm not so much interested in creating a home that reflects who I am as I am interested in creating a home that makes its dwellers and its guests feel calm and at peace. I like a clean, contemporary look. "Stuff" just gets in the way of all that.

So, while perusing Merriam-Webster to make sure I was using the word "penchant" correctly, I came across an article of newly added words, including: Stuffocation. My home looks nothing like that picture. But I can certainly relate to the sentiment in the definition.

Luckily, we live in a digital age, and I'm hoping this will be my safety. Over the next year or so, it's my goal to get the Tingey house as paperless and digital as possible. I'm going to upload all my CDs onto iTunes and all my favorite books onto my (mom's) Kindle; then, I'm going to get rid of the physical copies. I don't even care if my computer crashes and I lose everything and have to start rebuilding a music library all over again. Our DVD collection is a little more tricky. The other day we discussed just storing the discs in binders and discarding all the jewel cases. I'm hoping that becomes a reality. Think of all the shelf space that will be able to store things that need to be kept around. Imagine a world with no clutter piles...

Sigh. I think I just reached Nirvana.

P.S. If anyone has a great solution for the "just walked through the door" clutter pile, I'd be MUCH obliged to hear what you came up with. See the "comments" section below? That's for you. :)