Tuesday, May 16, 2006


My 150th post, wow time is flying.

I read something yesterday about the importance of breakfast. Not just the nutritional "most important meal of the day" spiel either. This was the idea that enjoying breakfast in the morning sets the tone for the entire day. Taking the time to eat something healthful and good (and to eat in a manner that actually lets you experience and taste that something healthful and good... as opposed to on the go) puts you in a more agreeable, optimistic, sensual frame of mind and allows you to be calmer and more alive the rest of the day. I can definitely see value in that, however, the fact that my breakfast is consistently eaten in the car on the way to work, and is usually something pretty icky-prepackaged-sugary like Eggo waffles or toaster strudels, or those instant microwaveable mini cinnamon rolls..... makes me despair on this account.

At least I have Saturday mornings. One morning out of seven I can enjoy the most important meal of the day.

The other potentially sensually rewarding experience I am missing out on is growing things. Mr. Renn and I have moderate success with container gardening, but we quickly run out of sunny spots to put things, and our plants outgrow their pots faster than we can afford to buy new pots. But I have a lingering longing to do some serious larger-scale gardening. I could probably borrow a patch of dirt from my parents if I pursued the point.... but the act of bending over far enough to actually touch the ground is getting sketchy, and getting back up once on the ground is just a pitiful process, so I give up before I ever start. It's really too bad, we won't even have a balcony in Philadelphia. Not one square inch of outside to call our own. Little misfortunes.

So I'm trying to pull an Amelie and cultivate small pleasures instead (smaller than breakfast). I've just got to keep myself alive and aware and happy, it's too easy to turn numb. So I enjoy my desk plant and chapstick and sticky notes and short phone calls. I revel in bending my knees and resting my feet on boxes instead of on the ground. I occasionally sit indian-style in my chair even though it's highly unprofessional. I get excited to use different colored highlighters. And I am always exhilarated to see they are mowing the lawn outside our office, because it means I get to smell my favorite fresh-cut-grass smell. I love looking at pictures in magazines and catalogues of lovely unrealistic things. I love the feeling for the first few hours of the day when my hair still looks "done" and the cowlicks haven't taken over my head yet (I have at least 5 stubborn ones). Things like that.

And I always have geraniums. Those are my staple happy-thought (besides Mr. Renn). I love the way they smell and how cheerful they are. If only I did have a balcony I would fill it with geraniums.


--jeff * said...

congratulations on your postquecentennial! you've done a wonderful job keeping myself and many others entertained, encouraged, and enlighted on the realities of a pregnant lady. your children will be proud.

please keep up the good work, em.
your public needs you.

Cam said...

Perhaps you've inherited your love of geraniums from your paternal grandmother. I remember her planting them in flower boxes on our apartment balcony in Germany and around the house in Bountiful.

Em said...

Wouldn't surprise me in the least... I seem to have unknowingly inherited a lot of preferences from my Grandmother, much to my mother's chagrin.

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