Chocolate: A Self-Help Guide

Starting week three of being unemployed.

I didn't know what to do with myself today.  I've applied for dozens of jobs, and I'm sure a fitting position will open for me soon.  But it was weird.  I couldn't relax, or do things that I wanted to do, because I felt like I needed to get a job.  But a job isn't something you can just reach out and grab.  You have to wait for it.  I have a hard time waiting.

I felt like a waste of space.

Then I read this Thomas Jefferson quote (I keep a Jefferson quote blog):

"I have sometimes asked myself whether my country is the better for my having lived at all?  I do not know that it is.  I have been the instrument of doing the following things; but they would have been done by others; some of them, perhaps a little better."

He then goes on to list his accomplishments.

"The Declaration of Independence."
"I proposed the demolition of the church establishment, and the freedom of religion."
"The act prohibiting the importation of slaves."

If it's ok for Jefferson to feel like a waste of space, then it's ok for me to have blah days as well

A wise man told me that depression is a healthy, normal, and necessary time for reflection.

And I'd add to that: chocolate.  Depression is a time for chocolate.  The cause, and cure, of my current predicament.

Shoes and Mommy

I found my shoe.  In the garbage.  Thanks Claire.

Claire loves shoes now.  She'll walk around in our shoes.  She has learned how to say it and sign it.

She's also been saying and signing "daddy" for a few months now.  Kathy thought she heard Claire say "mommy" today.

"You hear that," Kathy said, "I think she she said mommy!"

Claire said it again, gesturing toward a magnet on the fridge.  A magnet of Ron Paul.

It kind of sounded like mommy.

some things are hard to photograph

This is the only picture from our tiny roadtrip last weekend, and it wasn't technically taken until we got home:

We needed a break—even from taking pictures, I guess.

As some of you already know, Christopher lost his job last week. The chocolate factory was his dream job of sorts, which made the lay-off that much more disappointing.  

So we drove to southern Utah and walked around in the hills.

We came back without a single picture from our change of scenery. No photo of our baby girl toddling up the trail, holding her daddy's hand high above her head. No footage of her screaming in delight at the riverbank, with sand between her fingers. No photo of the seriously kick-A food and generous hosts at my sister-in-law's house.

I lamented my lack of documentation, but I think it was enough just to be there together for a minute.

We up and moved here for this job. We settled into some ideas and dreams for this job. We even had a monthly chocolate budget because of this job. It was like, wait a minute, this isn't the plan—we haven't taken any pictures yet.

I don't think a picture would do anything justice anyway. There's something inspiring (and impossible to photograph) about watching your best friend be gracious and tactful and brave—especially when you feel like you wouldn't be if it were you. I don't know how to take a picture of that.

I'm appreciating being in this space together for a minute, this unplanned moment when the world's wide open and we're not sure yet how the scenery will change.

Vote for Peace

I usually save politics for my other blog.  But this one was too good not to share:

It hit home with me, because I voted for Obama in 2008. I thought he would bring the troops home, shut down Guantanamo, and stop wire-tapping us.

Toilet Water

When Claire drank from the toilet, it made me wonder: when was the last time I cleaned the toilet?  Also, whose kid is that?