July 11 17

I slept through the night once this week. And I even took a nap.

I have slept so little since 2001 that I have resorted to talking about myself the way people talk about their infants. She went for a three-hour stretch and then was just up and ready to play for the rest of the night.

But the past ten days or so, I don’t know. I have snapped — significantly — less at my family. I spent over an hour outside one night playing basketball with my son. We have gotten together with friends for bbqs, for pea picking, for mini golf, for board games, for dinner, for drinks, for sitting in the backyard for an entire Shabbat afternoon. I started taking on only one bar or bat mitzvah per month, to help balance my schedule and my family. I replaced my lost (for the second time) driver’s license, made important appointments that I’d just been too busy or too meh to make. I devoured GLOW (You guys, RUN DON’T WALK TO WATCH IT). I have been flying through photo orders (I ordered three albums and two canvases last night) and I am even almost up-to-date with my invoicing (invoicing *hork*) I had heartwarming conversations with my siblings over text, Facetime, and the phone (I KNOW!) I said no to something that I would normally have said yes to (that I most definitely should not have said yes to).

There have even been solo dance parties.

Today I took my office into the backyard and just spent the afternoon working in the sunshine, soaking up joy.

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I don’t even know who I am right now.

Or maybe it’s actually more accurate to say that I don’t really know who I’ve been over the last few months. I haven’t been me for four and a half months. Four and a half months. {I really miss my heartfriend} Maybe it’s the laid-back feel of summer. Maybe it’s the fact that I am feeling the sun on my face for the first time since the fall. Maybe it’s because I’m making plans to do things that get me out of my office. Maybe it’s because I’m taking on fewer of the more time-consuming photo clients and taking on more of what I love — getting down on the ground and capturing the beauty of family. Maybe it’s because Isabella is at camp. Maybe it’s because I’m not stressing about 6th grade, or 9th grade, or 10th grade math.

{Edited to add something important I don’t want to forget} One of my loveliest of friends just asked me to show her my ways. I told her that I think what is helping me right now is trying to channel my sads into less sads. Making plans has been a huge one for me. Choosing to surround myself with people who make me think, laugh, love — when my first instinct is to be at home in jammies with my office computer and netflix. Instead of working all the time, I’m choosing life. It’s hard, so hard, since I have so much work to do, there’s always work to catch up on (and I love love love love so much of my work and take pleasure and pride in it) but I was drowning in work and basically living in my office and I truly believe that it’s the people in my life who truly raise me up, Josh Groban style.

I don’t know.

I just know I want more of these…

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I hope this me sticks around for a while.

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We had a case of stomach flu in our house last week and I only had one panic attack. Progress!

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What IS it about dresses with pockets?

I don’t even know why this little party at my pelvis brings me such joy. It’s certainly practical — when I’m using both of my hands to photograph events, they hold my phone, gum, medicated chapstick. [THE TRIFECTA OF THINGS I AM NEVER EVER EVER WITHOUT] And well, if you’ve ever been photographed you know that one with your hands in said pockets is always nicer than the matching version where your hands are just hanging around with nowhere to be. Also I can’t even articulate this — and I’m a person who articulates often — but a dress with pockets transforms me from someone who is wearing a dress to someone who is wearing a dress. Confidence. Yes, pockets on dresses provides a level of confidence in me. I can’t even explain it. I walk a little taller, I sometimes, dare I say, strut.

I love dresses with pockets more than I love cardigans and, well, if you’ve ever seen me ever you know that I love a cardigan.

“Ali, I love your dress.”

“THANK YOU IT HAS POCKETS!”

“Okay weirdo.”

“AND I GOT IT ON SALE, paid almost nothing for it. Also, this old thing? I’ve had it for a million years. Bought it in the clearance section at Target. It was the only one they had and it was, like, basically free.”

Why am I like this?

This also leads me to another topic I was going to talk about on my now-defunct podcast — CARGO SHORTS. Apparently, cargo shorts are no longer a thing (although I can tell you that I spent Saturday afternoon with at least three men who love the heck out of their cargo shorts and one of them carries a receipt for a marriage certificate to me in his wallet, which incidentally he carries in one of his cargo shorts pockets). Nope. They are dead. They are really that bad. They are a plague that’s contaminating our neighborhoods, I guess. But what if cargo shorts are men’s versions of dresses with pockets. Not only can men store their phones, gum, chapstick, but cargo shorts can store a Mary Poppins bag amount of important things. Sandwiches. Beers. Hammers. Do you have strong feelings about cargo shorts?

What about men’s sandals? This basically sums up how I feel about men’s sandals.

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I really need to bring the podcast back. And probably show you my new dress. It might be Isabella’s. But it has pockets!

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  1. Love your openness!! Living life is the greatest decision!!

    [Reply]

    Comment by Doris on July 11, 2017
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