why mason jars?

~ hilly miller ~ 3 Comments
Image
Started watching Dr. Who to get stuff like this. Was too big of a nerd to stop.

I have a question.  It’s one of those things that’s been bugging me for a long time, but I don’t bring it up often because I don’t want to seem uncool. 

But I’ve had enough. 

There’s something I don’t get, and I feel like I’m on the outside of a Dr. Who joke, asking, “Are you saying jiberish?”

 

So here it is: why mason jars? 

Now, I know much like arrow tattoos and kombucha, mason jars are a part of the current rage, but I don’t really get it.  Is there something I’m missing?

Why is it better to take a to-go salad in a glass (BREAKABLE) jar?  And to then have to invest in an extra long fork to reach the goodins (aka the redeemable bits of a salad) stuck in the bottom of said jar?

Putting a cupcake in a mason jar is the surest way to turn what should be a magical cupcake eating experience into extreme frustration with icing covered fingers.   I thought mason jars were supposed to be full of weird things your mom pickled that never went away from the pantry.  Seriously, who’s idea was it to make something as enjoyable as eating a sugar-filled dessert in the most inconvenient way possible.  Is this a part of a new diet that I’m not aware of?  You’ll get so sick of the effort to eat that you’ll stop eating!

ImageAnd then there’s the crafts.  These I’m not so adverse to because combining all of your leftover candles into one candle, while sure to cause a headache, does, at least, sound frugal.  But the crafts like filling a mason jar with olive oil and sticking a picture inside?  Why? Think about all of those olives Vincenzo Cortino’s dad had to squeeze for that thing (Jane Austen’s Mafia! anybody?)

 

I mean, is it that they last forever (until dropped)?  Do they feel old?  Like an antique that you can buy new without the weird I’ve-been-in-an-antique-store-good-luck-getting-me-to-smell-differently smell to them? Is it like the idea of putting flowers in ice cubes? It looks pretty and sophisticated until the ice cubes melt, and you attempt not to swallow wilted leaves.  Do you feel cooler drinking out of mason jars?  Okay, I will say yes to that one.

Also, I will admit that while looking at pictures of mason jar crafts, a few of them look kind of fun and cute.

But I still hold to my beginning question: what’s with the mason jar?  What am I not getting?  Why are people packing their lunches and “framing” their pictures in the least convenient way possible? What tv show do I have to watch to be in on this one? Because I am way out.

love letter to my dog

~ hilly miller ~ 2 Comments

dear estelle getty,

Here are 10 things I hate about you. <— because I know how much you love 90s teen movies and modern Shakespeare.

1. You get hair everywhere, and I have sympathy for this.  I really do.  I’m a girl.  I used to have hair long hair.  I get it.  But you don’t clean up your hair from the bathroom floor… Okay, I never did either, but still.

2. You make me get up early every morning.  Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, all of the sudden having an ear itch that must be scratched as soon as the sun appears in the sky, or even a little before.  But you’re stealthy, I’ll give you that.  While other dogs hop on their owners’ beds and lick faces, you stay on your doggie bed, and make your collar jingle like it’s the most accidental sound in the world.  Well played.

3. Last winter you chewed up my favorite pair of heels.  No, I’m not over it.  And the worst part was that you didn’t even chew them completely, making me keep a pair of chewed heels for two months wondering if they were salvageable.  And then you found them again and made sure they weren’t.  Thanks for that.

4. You do that thing at the dog park when you get excited, where you roll around in the dirt.  Listen, I barely want to give myself a shower most days.

5. Sometimes I walk to the store with you and tie you up outside while I run in, and it literally makes me run through the store because I’m so worried someone’s going to steal you.

6. When people avoid you, in a way that’s very “I hate dogs,” it makes me not trust them… actually, thanks.

7. I know I mentioned the shoes, but let’s be honest, last week’s classy job to the crotch of my newest jeans was really your pièce de résistance.

8. Do you know how expensive your dog food is?  So it’s not as expensive as human food, but couldn’t you just eat the neighbor’s cat or something? I want to buy new shoes and jeans.

9. You name is ridiculous.  I realize this could be considered my fault, but you’re the one that looks like an “Estelle Getty.”

10. You really stink at posing for pictures, no matter how many vogue poses I show you.

Now, I know you probably expected a Julia Stiles turn here at the end.  I would suddenly tell you that I love that you get me outside everyday, give me kisses each day, and are so excited to see me when I get home.  Maybe I’d go on to say that this whole living by myself would be a great disaster without you, that you are more precious to me now than when I first carried you home inside my sweatshirt, that we can listen to Michael Bolton and have a connection deeper than woman and dog.  But I won’t, partly because that last one was weird and also because, Estelle Getty, you’re a dog, and it’s really freaking me out that you’re reading.  So stop.

cheers (barks),

hilly

photo(1)

 

school starts, everybody farts

~ hilly miller ~ Leave a comment

The Hunger Games school semester has begun!  And I’ve never been more relieved to go to school in my life.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always liked school (yeah, I was that kid), and I’ve always relished summer break.  However, this summer was… how to describe? difficult?  a learning experience? glorious moments of fun encompassed by long droughts of sub-par? lonely?   I think I’ll stick with a necessary window of growth and maturing, or at least, that’s how I hope to pigeon-hole it in my memoir. 

This was my first summer away from home.  I know what you’re thinking, “Hils, you’re a little old to be homesick for one summer, don’t you think?”  And someone else drones on, “Like cha, didn’t you ever go to camp?”   And here’s what I tell you:  Don’t call me Hils.  You don’t know me!  Just kidding.  Call me whatever you want, except Frida (all unibrow jokes are a low blow).  I am a little old for a lot of things, like how happy riding a bicycle makes me or buying underwear in a package.  Get over it. Some things I will probably do forever, and I’m okay with keeping one foot in childhood for the rest of my life.  And it’s taken me until now to truly be okay, if not reassured, with the fact that I missed my family this summer.  I missed grilled burgers (food first), swimming, hearing about the carnival in my hometown that I never go to (because ferris wheels shouldn’t collapse to fit into a truck), watching The Price Is Right with my brothers, going to the zoo with my sister, helping my nieces ride bikes, singing in the kitchen with my whole family, and watching my Mom and Dad sip coffee on the deck.   I missed out on all of that this summer, and I’m glad I’m human enough to be homesick for it.  I’m also glad that it puts into perspective the reason I’m here.  It must be pretty darn important to miss out on all that.

Oh, and to you “campers.”  I went to camp twice, kind of.  The first time, I think I was nine.  I thought my mom didn’t pack my hairbrush, so I lived with a rat’s nest (worse than a bird’s) for a week, only to find the brush as I was packing up to go home.  I was also taller and fatter than the other campers my age.  I don’t know how that fits in here. 🙂

The second time, was Hoosier Girls State, in high school. Death. Torture. Tears.  Smelly campus. That’s what I think of this experience.  All I can say is, never volunteer to be the town crier (in charge of waking people up).  Everyone will hate you. Summary: camp isn’t all a found-my-lost-twin-starred-in-a-musical-or-took-down-a-fit-ben-stiller experience, okay?

Don’t have much to say about the second half of this title.  There’s a story there, but I’ll save it for another time.  Besides, my dedicated readers reader (hi, Mom!), already knows about it.

Image
First day of school! Someone named Hils believes in me! #SelfEncouragement

Memoir Title Brainstorm:

Everybody Farts, Except Me (And Other Lies)

The Book That No One Read Because ‘Twas Never Written

I’ll Never Be Good Enough For Pinterest

Made It (Having Never Pooped My Pants Past The Age of Thirteen)

Times When I Made Inappropriate Jokes

Times I Couldn’t Stop Laughing (at Funerals) / I Swear I’m Not A Jerk

I Was Here (And Other Beyonce Quotes)

No, Pepsi Is NOT Okay

The Month I Read Lucille Ball’s Wikipedia Page Everyday (and Other Months, Too)

Naming My Dog, And Other Bad Decisions

throwback thursday

~ hilly miller ~ Leave a comment

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I think about the sixties, the 1960’s that is, and I think about everyone and their mother smoking and drinking, pregnant or not.  How unusual.  How hilarious.  Thank goodness we don’t have something that embarrassing going on in the time we live, am I right?!  Then I remembered, I used to love to play with this metal container in the back seat of our van growing up.  It made a super annoying sound, and being the youngest child, I flipped it open and closed very often, sure to fulfill my role of aggravating little sister.  Now, it just hit me the other day what that silver container was.  It was an ashtray built into the backseat of the car, so, you know, everyone in the car can smoke with the windows up and not get ashes everywhere.  How hilarious.  How weird.  The only hope I have for this is that my neon t-shirts and stirrup pants will someday be looked upon with the same retro nostalgia of the Mad Men skirt suit. A girl can dream, and I do, often of dole whip and long hair of yesteryear…

Image

future dreams and liberty themes

~ hilly miller ~ Leave a comment

This past summer I was able to participate in an internship program (in the film industry) run by a libertarian organization, and last night we had a dinner party for the interns and fellows of the organization in the LA area.  I’m not good at these things.  I am too excited, too happy to be there to fit in.  I should have worn glasses and brushed up on my cool facts about myself, but I didn’t do either of those things.  While others ranted on their current noble endeavors to make documentaries on prisons and refugees, I explained my desire to make a funny movie that people would go see.  While they mentioned obscure political films, I talked about Goonies and poop jokes. The further conversations went, the more I became wary of telling people I wanted to help create a movie that wasn’t solely fueled by libertarian ideals.  To be clear, I thought their ideas were awesome and told them as much, but I just wasn’t being reciprocated.  A few hours in, when strangers asked me what I wanted to do, the mantra, “just make it libertarian sounding,” entered my head.

Apparently, this worked so well that the last time I was asked about my future goals I said, “I just want to live in a cabin with lots of land where I can write.  And I, uh, I want to have a basement full of ammunition.”  After that I called it a night, and I am still mentally shaking my head at myself.

Oh, and look what I did to my phone…

Image

corn

~ hilly miller ~ Leave a comment

Corn.  Also known as Indiana.  I am convinced that corn can do anything.  Don’t believe me?  Let’s look at the facts.

What’s delicious?  CORN!

What is a part of this country’s history?  CORN!

What can be any color depending on how long you leave it in the sun? CORN!

What can be milled to make delicious powder that mixes with eggs to make johnny cakes? CORN!

What can be made into fuel? CORN!

What’s the bad sugar you’re supposed to stay away from?  high fructose CORN! syrup.

What has its own band?  KoЯn!

What’s my favorite summer food? CORN!

What have I not had since being in California and refuse to pay for corn by the ear and not by the dozen?  CORN!

One day CORN! may rule the world. 

pretty views and pretty blooms

~ hilly miller ~ Leave a comment

So the title doesn’t rhyme, but it sounds like it almost does, right?  Throw me a bone.

I live in a pretty place, and sometimes I forget how beautiful it really is and how much I dreamed of living here when I was younger.

Image

But like so many dreams becoming reality.  Living here, in California, is different than I imagined.  It’s busier and more expensive and more real.  Isn’t that what happens when what we wish for comes true?  It’s simultaneously more and less and different than you thought, but that’s because it’s not just a thought anymore.  The dream has been thrust into reality and that means it’s so much messier than you imagined.  But, can I just say, it’s so much greater, too.

Image

There is someone out there “who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.”  Isn’t that awesome?  Because I imagine some pretty great things.  I ask for specific, crazy, wonderful things in my life, and yet, everything I receive is so much better than anything I could think up to ask.  I’m not trying to paint a picture of perfection here because my life is FAR from it, but even if it isn’t perfect, it’s certainly beautiful.  Every day, here in California, and at home, in Indiana, life is beautiful as dreams manifest themselves in reality, and something greater, something more than we could ever imagine for ourselves, takes root in our lives.

Image

throwback thursday

~ hilly miller ~ 1 Comment

Image

The ocean.  One of my favorites then and now, too.  The ocean seems to me to be the ultimate metaphor for a good life.  It has it’s stormy days and it’s weak days, but no matter how many times the water recedes from shore, a new wave always comes back up. No matter what tragedy or bad day or any worldly happening, the ocean just keeps on washing over the sand, making it new again.

God’s work

~ hilly miller ~ Leave a comment

Okay, so in my world, a visit to Costco is delightful.  It’s special.  It’s exciting and adventurous, and if you’re frugal, it can almost be heavenly.  Almost.  Apparently, things were a little too divine on my most recent visit to Costco last Sunday.  While visiting family in Arizona, we put my membership card to good use, exploring the warehouse’s plethora of bulk items.  We also partook of the only thing small at Costco, the samples.  Now this was no ordinary day.  This sacred day, to my utter (and surprisingly strong) delight, a small booth settled in the chips section, was handing out sweet nectar, or Diet Dr. Pepper.

“Have some,”  a kind Costco worker said.

I obliged this heavenly club worker, even pumping a fist before lifting the fine dixie cup to thine lips.  Yes, I do love Dr. Pepper, and I enjoyed it immensely as we moseyed down the next aisle.  Turning the corner and rounding back up, we found ourselves once again by the beverage of my heart and the angel who served it.

“Since you were a fan, how about you have some more,”  my angel in a hairnet said.

“Really?”  Could this be true?  Better hurry before she changes her mind.

“Thank you,”  I said as I picked up the drink. What happened next was out my control.

By that I mean, I don’t what I was thinking.  I tipped the glass to her, as if to say, “Cheers.”  I winked, and I loudly said in a deep voice, “You’re doing God’s work here.”

The lovely woman was a little takenaback, and I left her immediately with a confused look on her face, a little confused myself.  God’s work?  Did I really just tell someone that serving DDP was God’s work?

Now, I think that this story has a few morals: (1)  I am ridiculous (less of a moral, more of a fact of life), (2) Apparently Costco is a spiritual experience, (3) God’s work can actually happen with only giving out delicious coke, and (4) although it’s risky saying things before thinking about them, it often produces moments of hilarity to be enjoyed as often as possible.

satisfaction, pt. 2

~ hilly miller ~ Leave a comment

A few more small things that bring me satisfaction.

IMAG0544
EG and her cousin

6. BRUSHING MY DOG.  I know what you’re thinking, “I know!  I love brushing my dog, too!”  Calm down, okay? I don’t really like brushing my dog’s hair.  It’s annoying.  She flips around for the first five minutes, and I will inevitably be covered in hair afterwards.  But, my puppy, Estelle Getty, truly enjoys this, and I enjoy not having black lab hair everywhere.  Sometimes (lots of times) satisfaction blossoms out of things I have to choose to enjoy.

7. GOOD WORDS.  This could be the writer in me, but I love saying words that pop out of your mouth.  They don’t have to be fancy or remarkable in any way other than the way they sound.  Words like punctual, crisp, garbanzo, pustule, persnickety, or waffle are a few of my favorites.  In my defense, if I’m talking to you about a timely, stubborn pimple or eating bean waffles, it’s probably an excuse to use those words.

IMAG0546
Arizona’s dog (the food, you jerks)

8. EATING.  This could probably be the list.  Food is good and makes life good, too.  One spectacular food venture I engulfed recently was the Sonoran hot dog, or Arizona’s all-out attempt at a heart attack:  a hot dog covered in bacon with beans, onions, tomatoes, some sort of jalepeño sauce, and some sort of white sauce in a delicious bun.  LOTS of satisfaction with that one.

9. BEING OUTSIDE.  Man oh man.  Sometimes I think I (and everyone) forgets what gifts the great outdoors have to offer.  Whether I’m running, planking (that’s a joke), lazily biking, walking my dog, standing on the sidewalk (wish this were a joke), or soaking up the sun, the fresh air and calm sounds of being outside can instantly make the day better.  Not to mention, moving around always seems to make the day better.  No, that’s not me dancing in my room when it’s raining out. No…

10. PEOPLE.  Let’s be honest, sometimes people are jerks.  Sometimes I am one of those jerks.  But most of the time, with one-on-one interactions when you are positive, people are so cool.  From crazies who invite me to their 34th birthday party with a handwritten invitation after just meeting me (true story) to a best friend who makes you belly laugh, people are simply incredible.  I like to be alone, but I also love people!  And interacting with them, even the “crazies,” makes the day seem real and worth it and satisfying.