When I decided to take a break on Sunday, I promised I’d get to this post within a week, and I am a woman of my word. June wasn’t nearly as crazy or exciting as May, but it did have its highlights, so cue the theme song…
Episode One: Socializing
I attended three graduation parties last month (the inspiration for my Dear Graduate post). A few highlights from my inner monologue:
- When did I get so old?
- Remember, you promised no “I used to babysit you” stories.
- Do people not open presents at parties anymore?
- Oh, look, cookies!
- I have already forgotten half of these people’s names.
- Seriously, I have never felt so old.
- Ok, maybe it’s time to stop talking to the teenagers. Go find a grown up conversation.
- Oh, no, here come THE QUESTIONS. Time to talk to the teenagers again.
Ok, context. First of all, a slight tangent. All joking aside, I like talking to teenagers. As my friends’ kids have grown up, they’ve become fun, interesting people with a perspective on life that I find endlessly fascinating. I thoroughly enjoyed chatting with the younger crowd at the parties. I also mostly enjoyed talking with the other adults. However, at all three parties I spent some time conversing with people I don’t see often (every few years at most), which meant I was asked THE QUESTIONS:
- “So, you still aren’t married?”
- “Are you seeing anyone?”
- “Any thoughts about having kids one day?”
I was also asked these questions by a few people I had just met for the first time. My feelings on these questions could fill an entire post by themselves, so let me just say this (for now, at least): I am single, not currently seeing anyone, childless, and perfectly happy with my life. However, I am open to any changes the future holds, as long as those changes are the right thing for me. That is, unfortunately, sometimes difficult for people to accept. *sigh* So I amused myself by thinking of snarky responses that I didn’t actually say out loud (for example: “Unfortunately my species is incompatible with Earthlings”), and then changing the subject.
Then I went back to the teens and traded high school stories. Way more fun.
Episode Two: Staycation
The most common response to “I’m on vacation next week” is “Where are you going?” At least 75% of the time, my answer is “nowhere”. I go on a trip…maybe every three or four years. For the most part, my ideal vacation is being able to have a series of totally unstructured days. Having nothing on my calendar is my idea of the ultimate luxury. To misquote Newton’s First Law, an Amanda in motion tends to remain in motion, and an Amanda at rest tends to remain at rest. Over the course of a week, I only left my house a handful of times (during which I rediscovered the fact that breakfast restaurants get busy after 7:00, and there’s a lot more traffic), read eleven books, watched half a dozen movies, and slept in every morning.
It. Was. Awesome.
Episode Three: Father’s Day (Part One)
My Dad, who is amazing (see this post for the proof of that statement) always suggests that we skip Father’s Day, because the attention embarrasses him. He also HATES it when we spend money on him. This year, he had a more compelling argument than usual, because Audrey was going to be out of town on Father’s Day, Mom and Dad were going out of town the following week, then Audrey was going out of town again. Plus, my nieces had dance recitals, my brother in law had some work obligations…to make a long story shorter, we were having trouble with scheduling. Of course, we weren’t going to let him get away with that. We will be having a belated family celebration soon, and Dad and I got together on our own on Father’s Day itself.
When I spoke to Dad, I specifically said that I was going to take him out for Father’s Day, and he agreed to this. Way too easily. I should have known he was up to something. When I arrived at his house, he said he wanted to drive, which was fine with me. However, once we were on the road I quickly realized that he was going the wrong way. Ignoring my protests, he drove us to my favorite restaurant instead of his. Then he handed the waitress his credit card before we even sat down at our table, and smugly announced that he had bought tickets in advance for a movie I wanted to see. Then he told me that I can’t argue with him on Father’s Day. Well played, Dad, but this isn’t over yet. You have thrown down the gauntlet, and I will rise to the occasion for Father’s Day Part Two.
Incidentally, we had a great time.
Episode Four: Girls’ Night
This month, Katie and I decided to try a cooking class (more about that in this post). We met up for coffee a few hours early, and also stopped by a comic book store. Katie and I have a lot in common, but my comic and game hobbies aren’t on that list, so this was a new experience for her. It was really cool to see her reaction to what was, for me, a familiar setting.
The cooking class itself was super fun. We met some nice people, had great food, and, despite giggling our way through 90% of the class, we learned a lot. We’re planning to go again soon.
Roll credits.

How did June treat you?
Given that today is the last day of June, I intended to have a “month in review” post today. I also intended to work on before this morning, but for a variety of reasons I just didn’t get to it. So when I got up today, the post was my number one priority.
My third attempt at today’s post was a partially drafted discussion of the importance of examining our motivation. Since I started the post several weeks ago, I first skimmed what I already had. One lined jumped out at me: “Sometimes you need to ask yourself if you’re doing this because you want to, or because you have to, or because you think you have to”.
Today, I don’t want to struggle with writing a post that isn’t coming naturally. I don’t want to spend hours treating my blog like a chore instead of something that I love doing. I don’t want to spend hours working on it, period. I’m not feeling it today, and that’s ok. I’m in the mood to read posts rather than write them. I want to keep binge watching The Good Wife, and listening to A Trick of Light. In other words, I want to give myself a break.
If you read last week’s post about
A cooking class is a great place to find a roomful of positive people. Every instructor I’ve ever had has been engaged, enthusiastic, and invested in the class. The participants arrive with the expectation of getting involved and trying something new, so there’s an open-minded, “can do” attitude right from the start. For many people, cooking has a deep psychological resonance as a social/family activity, and that means we’re primed for a friendly, interactive experience. I’ve always found that conversation and teamwork comes easily during these classes.
Plus, you have the all-important achievement high that comes from accomplishing a new challenge (I talked more about this back in

When my parents bought their house, the only thing they didn’t love was that the basement wasn’t finished, so they decided that they would correct that as soon as possible. It ended up taking them close to twelve years to save enough money, because hey-kids are expensive, and their first priority was always, always “our girls” (it still is). When I was nine, they were finally ready to call in the contractors. At the same time, however, their girls were old enough to desperately want a “real” family vacation (specifically, we wanted to go to Disney World). And they wanted to take us.
Dad sitting at the kitchen table with a notebook and a manual, teaching himself how to install a sink or lay carpet.
Do we always do all of those things for ourselves? No. We have our own answers to the time versus money question, and that doesn’t bother Dad. He never tells us that we’re wasting money when we pay for something that we could do on our own. What’s important to Dad, and to us, is that we can do it, if we choose to.
Maybe the most important skill we developed was resource management and making tough decisions. Dad was completely transparent with the budget for both objectives, and when a decision had to be made, he discussed it with all of us, in ways we could understand. A nicer hotel would mean less expensive restaurants, so which was more important? Did we want to go to Sea World, or did we want more souvenir money? Did we immediately want to buy new furniture for our new basement, or wait six months to a year so we could spend more money on our trip?
If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know that I’m much more likely to share my mistakes and ridiculousness than try to hide them. That’s completely because of my Dad. Even when he swears he’s going to keep an embarrassing moment to himself, he’ll be telling everyone about it within a day. The only thing he likes more than stories that make him look silly are stories that make us look good. I don’t want to give you the impression that finishing the basement went off without a hitch. Despite his extensive research, there were a lot of things he was doing for the first time, and mistakes were bound to happen. The most significant was when he flooded half the basement while working on the new bathroom. I can’t remember exactly why it happened, but I definitely remember the mess. Mom wasn’t home at the time, and we actually managed to clean everything up before she got back. Dad, of course, said that there was no reason to tell her about it…and then, of course, treated her to a hilarious account of the incident as soon as she got home. He showed us not to take ourselves too seriously, and that a good laugh is more than worth a little embarrassment.
We finished the basement a few weeks before the big trip, and all of our hard work was about to pay off. However, life was about to throw us a curve. On day one of our two day drive, we were in a car accident. Luckily, no one was hurt, but the station wagon wasn’t going anywhere soon. I remember huddling in a Denny’s in a strange town five hours from home, trying not to cry while I waited for Dad to come back from the mechanic’s and tell us the vacation was over. I knew that we’d have another chance, and was determined to “be a big girl” and go back to the savings plan to get ready for next year.

You might be thinking that a new stage of your life is the perfect time to become a new person. I’m certainly not going to tell you that you’re wrong. However, don’t be in a rush to change your style, your interests, or your personality. Here’s a secret: the person you are today is going to change whether or not you set out to make it happen. So take your time in trying new things and in letting go of old ones. Be equally willing to expand your horizons and to decide that you’re ok with what you already have.
Look at the people who surround you right now, and understand that not everyone is going to be a part of your life forever. Some people are ok to let go. Some people you need to let go. Others will come along to take their place. But the best people, the ones who shine the brightest, are the ones you should fight to keep, even through the challenges of time and distance and changes. If you aren’t careful, they will slip away while you aren’t paying attention, and it might be too late to get them back.
You are about to face an explosion of new choices and new freedoms. Maybe you’re going to live away from your parents for the very first time. Maybe you’re going to discover that there are classes where no one takes attendance. Maybe your new job will have the kind of paycheck you’ve only dreamed about. Where you go, what you do, who you see, how late you stay out and how late you stay up, how you spend your money…all these and more are about to be more in your control than they ever have before. Enjoy it. Celebrate it. Live it.
You have a picture of your future, and that picture is guaranteed to be wrong. Maybe it’s just a little bit wrong, or maybe it’s worlds away from what the future really has in store for you. Don’t stress about that. Dreams and goals are wonderful things, but don’t let your imagination cheapen your reality.
After the Important Annual Event and the attack of the PIMOs (see
The entire first half of this episode would be scenes showing multiple conversations about what we’re getting Mom for Mother’s Day, who’s ordering it, how much we each have to kick in, etc. For example:
Audrey: Ok, I see the problem…none of us actually said we would take care of ordering the tickets. That’s why no one remembers who was responsible.
Cut to: a close up of the clock, showing 2:00 am. Next to the clock, my phone starts buzzing. A hand enters the frame, fumbling around before finally grabbing the phone. The camera pans to me, sitting up and blinking at the phone, then gives a close up of the email on the screen:
Me politely informing multiple coworkers that I will send an email as soon as I hear from Jen, and in the meantime I really need to work.
The last week of May was totally smooth sailing, so I focused on recovering from the craziness by spending extra time with important people. The first half of this episode would consist of restaurant scenes:
The second half of the episode would be last night, when Katie and I had a rare “just us” dinner out. Heading downtown, we argue about which one of us is more directionally challenged (in all honesty, it’s probably too close to call-we’re both constantly getting lost) and express our love of GPS. Of course, we do misunderstand the GPS almost immediately and go the entirely wrong direction on the highway, but that only takes about five minutes to correct.
Well, I thought that
Unless you have superpowers (and if you do, I’m jealous), you’re always going to be constrained by the time you have. When everything comes crashing down, it’s time to really focus on acceptable outcomes (see
At the end of the day on Friday, I walked into my boss’s office, threw my arms in the air, and shouted, “I’m amazing!” I also texted a friend and asked if we could have dinner because I was on a total achievement high and wanted a metaphorical gold star. Was I bragging? Yep. Did I feel ashamed of that? Nope. Often, if we wait for other people to notice and congratulate us, we’ll end up waiting a long time. No, I’m not suggesting that we go around constantly talking about how awesome we are, but there’s nothing wrong with occasionally drawing attention to yourself. I wanted my boss to acknowledge what I had put myself through over the past five days, so I made sure he did. I wanted a reward, so I arranged my own celebratory dinner. At a bare minimum, when you achieve something you should look at yourself in the mirror and tell that amazing person they did great.







I’m sure that at some point in her life my mother has met someone who didn’t like her. That’s just the way life works. However, I’ve never seen it in person. She’s one of those people that others gravitate to, want to talk to, respect, and remember. I’ve seen her, more than once, meet people I’ve known for years and have them more engaged and comfortable in a hour than I’ve ever seen them before. My friends have always loved her. My coworkers adore her. When she sits down next to a stranger, she ends up making a new friend.
Mom, volunteering at school events for our entire educational career (and even some after we graduated).
I will never forget the first time my mother asked me for help with something big. She had been asked to present an award to a coworker in front of a large group of people, and she confessed that she was borderline terrified at the thought of writing a speech and then talking in front of a crowd. I was in high school, acting in school plays and competing on my school’s debate team, so in retrospect it makes perfect since that she would ask me. At the time, however, I was floored that my capable, confident, grown-up mother was coming to me with a problem. What she understood, though, was that there was no shame in admitting that she, like everyone, wasn’t good at everything and couldn’t do everything on her own.
Mom and I both were effortlessly thin until our early twenties, when it started becoming difficult to avoid weight gain. It isn’t just about diet and exercise for either of us (although that does come into play sometimes); we both have medical factors that make it hard to regulate our weight. Over the years, we’ve both bounced around the range between size 8 and size 14. I know I would have gotten hung up about it, except that she had been through it and gave me some perspective early on. “Here’s what I’ve always done,” she told me. “If I’m unhealthy, I feel bad physically, or I can’t put on stylish clothes in my size and feel good about the way I look, then I make changes to get back to where I need to be. Otherwise, I don’t worry about it.” She got out the photo album and walked me through her various sizes over the years, and that reminded me that Mom has always been beautiful (and that isn’t just me talking-everyone says so), even at her heaviest.
In my parents’ house, everyone was at the dinner table at five-thirty, unless there was a special circumstance that warranted permission to be absent. Guests were always welcome. As an adult, I meet my parents for lunch, dinner, or brunch an average of once a week. The entire family gets together at least once a month. There’s something especially significant about sitting down together over a meal that deepens emotional ties between people. Recently, one of my friends joked that I must be obsessed with food because I’m always either cooking for everyone or herding them into a restaurant. I do like food, but what I really love is the sense of connection that develops when a group of people sit around a table and share the experience. Mom has always understood that, and because she did, we’re all blessed by knowing it, too.

Endgame picks up just as dark, so if you haven’t seen it, be forewarned. The good news is that the grim hopelessness lasts just long enough to make you want it to stop, and then it does, leaving the viewer with an emotional resonance that makes the introduction of hope welcome and impactful.
