little boxes

My husband sells little ships. Little ships come in little boxes. When you open the box and put the ship in the display case for your very own personal collection, you can’t just throw the box away. What if you want to seel it later? The boxes are important because the little ships are so very delicate you can’t even hand carry them without damage.

I knew this. I knew that Chris had to keep the boxes.

Today I went into the garage, thinking I could rearrange it a little to get pathways into the places I needed to go, And opening this box and rearranging that box gave me perspective.

HOLY CRAP we have a lot of boxes of boxes. I thought *I* was the one with all the crap in the garage. But I have decided it’s all him.


Because on further examination, I found another archealogical strata the predates the ships. There were boxes for delicate Audio Equipment that must be kept for transporting important electromagnetic speakers and precious turntable equipment.

There are empty boxes. And boxes of empty boxes. They are bursting out the walls!

This is a problem, and it goes deep. It may be time for an intervention.


The poor little one is sad again. She wants to crawl and reach; she wants to stand and be held; she wants to be asleep and awake. It may be that life is frustrating to her, or it may be that she has a pain somewhere (her gums?). She is having trouble sleeping and is crying a lot more than usual.

I feel sorry for her. I wish I could help her. I know she’s a good girl and doesn’t want to be cranky.

When she was very little, she would cry and cry. Maybe it was because she was hungry and I didn’t know that she needed more to eat. THEN I would lose patience with her, and sometimes I’d have to leave her alone in her crib to cry while I got some air.

It’s been a long time since I felt that impatient with her. Now I feel pity for her.

She’s so much bigger now, I know her better. I know what gives her comfort, usually. I feel sorry for her when she’s going through a hard time.

the shoe fits

I dunno. I like being plugged in, and i miss the heck out of my community college days when I had 3 or 4 command line email conversations going at the same time…

IM is such a rehash

…but the clarity of exposition that my blog allows is unparalelled. I have, on a regular basis, some thoughtS to sort through. And now that no one is even reading this blog anymore…

DEEP apologies and much love to you faithful few

…it is freeing to come here and expound. It’s a self-referential thing, you know? That I take the time to think something through here on this blog gives me a sense of finality. And I can have a conversation with someone about an issue, if I’ve blogged about it, and just reference my blog post in my brain. I always feel like jumping to the post and telling the person, “Read this!”

they never do

…and even if we get interrupted and I don’t get to finish my point…

is anyone else as annoyed by this as I am? I HATE it when I don’t get to conversationally finish my thought, especially when it’s a really good one [and all the really good ones are long so they always get interrupted], it sticks with me for days like a loop


I love my blog.

a happy media medium

You all know I do twitter. It’s right there on the sidebar. Most of my readers are my friends on facebook. Since I’ve started being active on Facebook (which is synched to my tweets) I have noticed a dive in  my blog readership.

Is it because my readers get their writtenbymurphy fix over there and don’t feel the need to come over here anymore?

NOW there is a social networking site at work that encourages us to join groups, “colleague” people, and have a work blog.

That’s a lot of virtual reality relationships to keep up with. It is worth it?

Well, I posted this on my work blog:


Health is catching

This story about how the company we keep affects us. This story talks about some studies that show being fat or smoking is influenced by the company you keep:

good behaviors — like quitting smoking or staying slender or being happy — pass from friend to friend almost as if they were contagious viruses. The Framingham participants, the data suggested, influenced one another’s health just by socializing. And the same was true of bad behaviors — clusters of friends appeared to “infect” each other with obesity, unhappiness and smoking. Staying healthy isn’t just a matter of your genes and your diet, it seems. Good health is also a product, in part, of your sheer proximity to other healthy people.

I have noticed that certain friends will be bad influences on eating choices, and we all know people who are downers to be around. It makes a lot of sense that our social network sets the levels of what is acceptable.

I’m not exactly sure how to use this information; should I avoid my friends who are unhealthy? Should I try to be the one who gives positive peer pressure? Maybe just knowing that unhealthy behaviours are not ‘normal’ and should not be emulated is enough.

It explains a lot about how the level of obesity that is common in America came to be. Watching old re-runs of television shows that show ‘real’ people gives a shocking example of how we have changes as a population.

Personal responsibility has a lot to do with our levels of health.

 Expounding further on the idea that social networks affect our health and happines…Maybe the more the merrier, huh? Maybe it is a good idea to just spew inane tweets and blogposts about daily unimportant happenings, for the very reason that people like to be included.



Here come the ides of nine

Tomorrow is my second wedding anniversary. My Mother-in-Law has offered to babysit and Chris and I will go out to eat.

Very Early.

Because our baby has to go to bed by 7. And we have to get her back in time to do all the putting-to-bed things. I’m still looking forward to the date. We haven’t eaten out together since Veronica was born. We are going someplace fancy–the Olive Garden. Because he has a coupon. And that’s who we are now. Early dinner eaters with coupons. I’m happy about that.

I’m going to go ransack my closet to see what kind of pretty dress I can find. And maybe I’ll wear fancy shoes. And a hat! I’ll definitely wear makeup.

you never know

So this weekend, I topped off my sleep tank finally. I was able to rest enough that I didn’t need a nap that day, or the next or the next. I was so excited!

Strangely, it’s been making me think of how messed up I’ve been for more almost 2 years now. Pregnancy did a number on me, and then recovering from the birth. So this weekend, while I was thinking ‘I feel so strong and rested and wonderful!’, I was flashing back to how not strong and not wonderful I had been feeling.

Past on the back and future by the hand, moving forward.

I remember how, months after, I sat at the table to eat something–because I had to eat to keep my strenght–and I realized I was totally slumped over. I made myself sit up straight, but the effort was too much. I literally did not have the strength to sit up straight and eat dinner at the same time.

And I walked up to foothill this weekend, pushing the baby and walking the dog. Walked straight up there like it was nothing. But I had struggled up it like it was Mount Everest, attempting it every day until I finally made it…back when Veronica was little.

How in the world did women do it? I still don’t exactly know how I did it. But women have been doing it for centuries. I understand why it used to kill them.

But the good news is, I can stand up straight now. I can walk and stride fast to get where I need to go without pain.

It feels good.

But yesterday, I gave in and ate a bunch of sugary yummy nuts. I shouldn’t have. I had been all full of energy, and was hungry and there they were. And I ate too many. Then I was SO sleepy. Sleepy like I used to be.

Veronica was in a nap when I got home, so I thought I’d get a snooze. But no. She woke up just as I was getting ready to take my shoes off. OH man.

So I dragged through the rest of the afternoon of child wakefullness. Just when I thought the tired was over. HA!

One thing that never changes: things never stay the same.