The Seven Dwarves - Sleepy

Hello, my faithful readers! Today is Friday. We all know what that means - our poor little selves get to bounce between the exhaustion of finally being done with another week of perpetual motion, the incredible high of the coming weekend, and too much caffeine coursing through our little veins. This generally leads to an abrupt collapse Friday night and an insatiable craving for Cinnamon Toast Crunch on Saturday morning, after a bowl of which the world returns to its axis and we start again, ready to run ourselves ragged with work and fun and errands and commutes and getting gas and milk going bad and church and making coffee and cleaning showers and editing off-road articles and writing html and laughing and admiring the ocean and working out and listening to good music and kayaking and living life.

So, anyway, back to my original point. It's Friday and I'm tired. Sleepy, even. (Did you see what I did right there? I brought life and the blog theme together...)

Things that make me Sleepy and (bonus!) a few notes on sleeping in general:

• Fridays
• Boredom
• Watching Golf on TV
• Sunday afternoons
• I can't fall asleep unless I'm laying on my right side. I didn't know this about myself until Valerie pointed it out to me when I slept below her in Oxford.
• Speaking of sleeping below Val, I'm a very heavy sleeper. Val is not a morning person. We shared a bunkbed in Oxford, and every morning my alarm would go off, I would not hear it, and Val would forcefully shake the bed to wake me up. This was very aggravating to her, but lucky for me, she loves me anyway.
• I also can't sleep unless I'm hugging something, so I still sleep with a stuffed animal curled up in my arms. I know, I'm adorable.
• I scare easily when I'm sleeping.
  
• I'm grumpy/cranky/no fun at all when I'm tired. Sorry to anybody who's tried to interact with me when this is the case. I promise I'll try to be nicer.
• When I'm going to sleep, watching TV, or just sitting for too long, I wiggle a lot. A LOT. When I'm watching LOST or Prison Break or something equally nerve-wracking, I wiggle even more. I swear it gets stressful toxins out of my body, but it also drives some people crazy.
• While we're on the subject of wiggling, I can't sit normally in a chair. I have to have my legs tucked up to my chest, or folded Indian-style, or feet on the dash/desk, or somehow splayed out in a more interesting fashion than feet on the floor or demurely crossed legs. The only time I will control myself is in business meetings, fancy restaurants, or short skirts. Even then, it's a challenge.
• I slept on a couch for two years in college, and for four months in the bower.
• Before I bought my college couch, I seriously considered putting a hammock in my room. I still think that's a pretty awesome idea.
• Sleeping while traveling does not work for me. Planes, trains and automobiles are not comfy.
• More than once, I've fallen asleep on my couch, only to awaken at 3 am with candles still lit, laptop open, and wondering if it's morning, only to look down and see that I'm still in my jeans.
• When I worked as a wrangler, Ami, Boss and I would sometimes eat lunch wherever we were working, and then settle down for 40 winks in the tall grass, hats over our eyes and the smell of a summertime hayfield all around us. What beautiful days.
• Wranglers didn't sleep much. I lived off of 5 hours a night for months at a time - only getting more sleep when I was home for a rare weekend. Thanks, Mom and Dad, for letting me come home to sleep and eat.
• Cabin leaders don't sleep much either. I was 19 the first summer I worked at camp, and I thought I my eyes were gonna dry up and fall out I was so tired. By Day 2.
  
• Going back to sleeping at Mom and Dad's, the Ranch house is seriously the BEST place on Earth to sleep. It's 36-miles-away-from-town quiet, ranch-style peaceful and boasts amazing beds and cozy sheets. Plus, when you get up, Mom's always been cooking something, so the house smells great, and there's a latte machine readily available. Paradise. Can I come home this weekend for a nap?
  
• Napping on the beach, or after a day at the beach, is the most amazing summertime experience. I can't wait for warm weather again...
  
• In college, I usually had Friday afternoons off. After the noise of Chinese Food Friday had subsided and before the fun of Friday night began, I usually had time for a couple hour snooze. Sometimes I really miss college.
  
• Even writing this list is making me really tired. Time for a Friday nap...
  

California in Flames

I'm gonna go ahead and state the obvious: there are about 15 wildfires blazing throughout Southern California - considerably closer to home than I like thinking about.

Last night, Adam and I drove the 5 South a few miles to see the Camp Pendleton fire. Giant flames leaped up into a eerily ruddy night sky, throwing red and orange shadows as they chewed up the hillside. We stared in frightened fascination, watching the instant destruction of countless acres, and imagining our homes in its path.

Funny; how I've been so focused on "nesting" and making a cute little bower that could easily be gobbled up in minutes - thanks to hot winds or an arson's match. It makes me feel so small now, like all of my striving doesn't really mean much in the big scheme of things. When faced with disaster, we start thinking about the keepsakes we would grab and the people we would call. Our legacies and relationships are so much more valuable than the meaningless "stuff" that "moths and rust (or fires) destroy."

It's easy to get distracted with everyday worries, bills and to-do lists until the moment of truth; when I find myself looking at a blazing hillside - feeling in awe of my insignificance and thankful for what I do have.

The Danger of "Nesting"

A lot of things have changed in my life lately. I started a new job, moved into my own apartment after nearly a year living with my grandma, and played flag football all in the space of one week. (OK, so I know that playing football isn't really life-changing news, but every good writer knows the "list of three" concept, and football was all I could think of on the fly. Sorry.)

I'm here to discuss the "nesting" concept. Somewhere in-between the fascination with play houses and her first burnt batch of cookies, every girl realizes her overwhelming need to "nest". We are drawn into the Home section of Target without trying, buy cute homey things that we neither have room for nor can afford, and are constantly attempting new concoctions in the kitchen. And buying soap. ...or maybe that last one is just me.

Anyways, I have my own place now... as in, MY own place. As in, no roommates, just me. As in, paradise/kinda scary at night/very creatively stimulating and nice to come home to after a long work day.

It's a gorgeous little studio in Dana Point, about 20 miles south of where I was living. I have an itty-bitty kitchenette, bathroom and "common area" which will eventually be organized to the point of cuteness. Right now I feel like I'm sleeping in the corner of a storage shed, but I have only lived there for three days. Shelves, sunflowers, and horses will all soon be in their places, never fear.

And after it's "cutified" I will post pictures. Promise. :)

But anyways, now that the details are out of the way... about nesting. My brother Denver says nesting is dangerous, because the next step is "baby fever". I think I'm safe on that front. However, I can definitely agree that nesting is the girlie version of when a guy walks into Home Depot with a project in mind and a list of "but I need this to do that...". Shark-infested waters, baby.

I have wandered dazedly through countless home stores, sighing over adorable hutches to keep all the dishes I don't own, and agonizing over my sad lack of cash. I hold ceramic dishes in my hands in the store, wishing I had an excuse to take them home, idly pet hanging curtains and try out couches that would take up roughly 60% of my apartment if I was stupid enough to give in and buy them.

I get warm fuzzies just by sitting on the couch (thanks, Adam,) and looking over at my kitchen, itty-bitty edition - complete with toaster oven for baking tiny things, (thanks for that, too, Adam, :) a four-cup coffee pot for half my daily consumption, and a microwave to heat up all that my tiny, delicate appetite can handle. (Haha...)

When I'm at work, all I think about is going home, folding clothes and putting up pictures, and when I'm at home, all I do is fantasize about how awesome my bower will eventually be.

So maybe nesting is dangerous, but what's life without a little risk? So what if I spend a little too much on the perfect curtain or buy another mug that I don't need? Give a girl a break... at least I don't want a baby.