It’s been awhile since I’ve written a secret spill.

Okay, I just saw the date for the last edition of dirty secret spill (when I went to add in that link) and it’s been a loooong while.

I guess you could say that I’ve been feeling a little bit like a Scorpionic emotional horder. But! It’s time.

So here goes.

I’ve finished season four of Glee and I’m hesitant to start season five.

Partly because—and I think this is obvious to anyone familiar with the show—in only two short episodes we lose Finn Hudson (Cory Monteith) and it makes my stomach churn and my heart shed tears before I’ve even seen the episode titled simply The Quarterback.

However, it’s also because I’m not sure that I want to pay 99 cents an episode on Amazon Prime.

Because of this, I’m looking for a new (kind of crappy, but not crappy enough to not want to watch it) television show for my rare-spare-moments viewing pleasure.

Nothing, so far, has stuck. (Please feel free to leave suggestions in the comments section below. Thank you in advance.)

Also happening in my life lately is my pregnancy. (For anyone who visits my site regularly, this isn’t a shock either.)

So, I’ve been looking at baby names on God awful websites—the kind of internet searching that happens when I should be falling asleep but am, instead, continuing to scroll on my iPhone. (Please don’t leave name suggestions in the below comments section. Thank you in advance.)

And the names that I’ve come across are, frankly, appalling at times. I’ve sincerely questioned whether or not these site owners are spewing stuff out there in cyberspace only to laugh if so-and-so name actually does become fifth most popular.

I mean, Ajax?

Biff?

Maybe I should apologize (in advance) if a reader’s child is, indeed, named Biff or Ajax, but I feel it more appropriate to apologize to the child.

Moving on.

Right now you probably won’t guess what I’m doing.

I’m baking my first un-birthday cake.

Apparently, I made the wrong flavor for (ahem) a “special someone’s” birthday. I’m currently rectifying the situation by making a new cake. (Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and berries in the middle—photographic proof to follow that I am officially once again the most wonderful wife friend ever.)

Also, I used the time on the first picture to remind me of when I put the cake in the oven.

And, lastly, I’d like to share that I wrote this fairly early on Monday, but in order to not ruin this (un)birthday surprise, I didn’t publish it immediately.

How’s that for thoughtful.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish getting ready for our first ever unbirthday party…

Photo credits: Helga Weber/Flickr; Author’s own.

The post Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill. {Unbirthday Edition} first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

Here’s the first dirty secret: I’m writing this on Sunday.

Yeah…

Also, I’ve been realizing that shopping for maternity clothes isn’t for the feint of heart, the feint of wallet or for any woman who wants to feel sexy while she’s pregnant—unless you live in Australia.

Hey, Australia folks, why do you guys have all the amazing, great fabric, eco-friendly maternity clothing shops? Hmm?

Moving on…

(I’m feeling much more pregnant at the end of my first trimester with this, my second pregnancy, than I did midway through my first, so it’s on my mind.)

Another thing that’s on my mind? This:

And this:

(Also, I’m admitting that I searched for quite awhile to add this Dan Band song from Old School to this playlist, and I couldn’t find it. I’m blaming the fact that I was tired and writing in bed to missing it. Because here it is.)

Oh yeah.

So, my Netflix suggestions are all kids’ shows now. Seriously. All. Kids.’ Shows.

I used to have categories to choose from like nerdy documentaries that were made in the 1970s that no one but your scientist husband wants to watch, as well as random English movies featuring strong female lead who is way too hilarious for the Victorian time period, and awkward romantic comedies that involve fart jokes, attractive people sticking out their lips to look sexy and at least one bad accent.

You know, things like that.

Now, I swear, every show we watch features an episode of how to go on the potty and, what’s worse, is that I’m relieved.

I’m like, Oh thank God we’ve found another series that shows things children are interested in and working on.

Another thing that relates to my pregnancy (probably go ahead and prepare yourself for this type of entrance line in many of my upcoming articles), is the reality that there is significantly limited time to workout when you have children.

Because of this, I’m realizing that I need to choose days for cardio (Spinning, my 1980-whatever Nordic Track, etc) and my beloved yoga classes. Back in the day (b.c.; before children), I could do both in one day easily.

I’m not complaining. (Honestly.)

I guess I’m just closing my Monday Morning dirty secret list by acknowledging that I’ve always loved a blended exercise routine and that now’s the time to strengthen my body, and reinforce this, by committing to my varied athletic interests.

Hey, I might be a stay-at-home yogi—but that doesn’t mean you’ll always find me practicing on my mat.

Over and out.

Photo: YouTube screenshot.

The post Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill. {Featuring The Dan Band—You’re Welcome} first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

Sometimes I read the news.

Okay—I always read the news, but sometimes this “news” is…People magazine online.

Here’s my big secret spill, though: I tried to watch Downton Abbey.

However, I’d waited so long that I would’ve had to pay to view the episodes I missed (which is nearly the whole season, since we broke up). While I was considering giving Downton another chance, I’m not interested enough to pay. (I mean, I am still seeing Glee after all.)

I also wrote an elephant journal article titled Dear Husband, If You Do These Things, I’ll Make Your Dreams Come True, which is pretty much just one big secret spill. Yet it’s important to keep in mind that, as my husband puts it, I take artistic license with nearly all of my writing. (You never know exactly what is true.)

So I guess that’s another Monday morning dirty secret spill—that I liberally write with artistic license.

But there’s absolutely the reality that my writing comes from soul-deep nooks and crannies of secret spaces within my mind and heart and my emotional being, and I would love to say that I’m one of those writers who feels insecure and oh my God, I can’t believe I just hit “publish” on that last one, but the truth is I don’t.

And it’s not because I’m arrogant or because I don’t have boundaries. Rather, it’s because I believe in who I am.

In those soul-deep nooks and crannies where light is rarely allowed in, I see myself—I let light in as I witness myself—and I’m okay with what I find.

Are you?

And not are you okay with who I am, because I don’t care—which is exactly my point.

It’s when we become okay with who we are and with what we’re putting out into this world of ours, that we no longer need to seek approval.

Are rave reviews nice? Sure, of course. Are they necessary? No—and if they are, then we’re not living from soul-deep, possibly secret compartments, but from our ego-driven cravings for pats on the back.

And that’s why I have my Monday morning secret spill.

It started out purely as something fun for my friends on Facebook and it’s evolved into something that my readers love to see, and I think I know the reason why.

It’s because we connect with these little nuances.

It’s when we discuss these minute aspects of being human, we’re able to connect on a fundamentally profound level that allows us to open up and expose other more important parts of who we are—in short, it’s the start of communication, which makes the world go ’round.

Also, sometimes it’s good to just tilt your head back, show your teeth and laugh a little—or a lot.

(Oh, and if this sounds familiar, it’s because you read that blog I linked in earlier, so thanks.)

Photo credits: Yes, I seriously posed these dolls.

The post Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

Yep, so that happened again.

My amazing web guru (the one who is in charge of this site) sends me awesome music links, knowing I love new finds but that I’m not always that great at, well, finding them lately. He sent me this and I’ve been listening to it while writing all week long:

First Listen: Nothing, ‘Guilty Of Everything.’ Click here to experience on NPR’s First Listen.

Because I was a total 80’s child who grew up and lived a gorgeously rebellious teenage youth in the 90’s—in short, I loved raging guitars and Shoegazing: My Bloody Valentine, Ride and Slowdive to name a few.

And since I was a kid of this subgenre, I experimented with a lot of off-trend looks.

I’ve tried not shaving my armpits (that didn’t last long), flannel (duh), any pants with bellbottoms, green mascara, braless tanktop days and a myriad of other things that will shame my husband for admitting in print (we dated as teenagers).

But, oh God, does this musical distortion and the sound of layered guitars set my soul on fire like I was still 15 years old.

Sigh.

Another thing that’s been setting me on fire this week is my daughter’s latest obsession with coloring on her easel.

She woke up this morning and before she wanted even a drink, she sought out her crayons—and I was one proud and happy mama.

And the same auntie that got her this awesome easel sent me this via text last week:

Since it’s absolutely, without a doubt, The Year of the Unicorn, this also lit me up from the inside out.

My mantra for the last few months has been I believe in magic and, let me tell you, it’s been a magical few months.

And I’m randomly throwing this in my blog because I love you and believe that all humans deserve good music:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhxXn60Z0yk

I’m also tossing it out there that I get super excited about some of my articles and that I can’t wait to see reader responses after they’ve been published.

My latest piece that brought on this type of sensation was one that went up last night while I was asleep. The Healing Power of Tears: 5 Poignant Quotes to Move Us Beyond Regret was shared on elephant journal, where I write as an extremely joyful featured columnist.  Anyways, it already had two stellar responses by the time that I woke up at 5:30 this morning.

Here they are, copied and pasted:

From Facebook: “This is the best article I have ever read on EJ. Thank you!”

(Um, wow, thanks to you!)

And from a comment beneath the actual piece: “this is really fucking good. and i’m highly critical. i’m going to read more of your stuff now.”

(Although that one made me a little bit nervous, heh heh.)

And here—just because—is another random Shoegaze moment for you:

Aaaaand, another major goosebump share (this one is a complete classic):

You know, what, I’m ending here today—I cannot top this last video.

Enjoy! And happy Monday! Erm, Wednesday!

Photo credits: Author’s own; imgur; Suzanne LaGasa/Flickr.

The post Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill (Wednesday Shoegazing Edition). first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

Yep, it’s Wednesday, and I’m still calling this my Monday morning dirty secret spill.

For one, it still kind of feels like Monday since this week has flown by and, for another, it’s my website so I can do that if I want to.

Okay, are you ready? Because here…we…go!

I love rinsing my sinuses out with saline water.

I’m ecstatic that it’s snowed two days in a row and that it’s cold again (and I’m not kidding in the slightest).

I don’t like Instagram pictures of food—but I’m guilty of putting a few up myself.

(That’s (stellar) whole wheat pizza dough made from scratch and homemade sauce and, no, I’m not ashamed.)

I don’t like Instagram pictures of yoga postures, but—you guessed it—I’ve put up some of my own.

Oh, and while I’m not even at 100 Instagram followers yet, I’m doing better than my previous tally of 8.

I like the word tally.

And sandbar.

And I strongly dislike the word lunch (even though I adore lunch itself).

I like the word Legos, though, and I’m still digging playing with them. Actually, I got my husband a set for his Valentine’s Day gift. (That gorgeous creation above is his and that teensy hand is my daughter’s, who’s impatiently wanting to play with it.)

I’m still watching Glee and—although the Glee club is called “New Directions” (please say this over and over again until you get it) and despite my husband insisting that it’s making him dumber—I’m still having fun watching.

I haven’t seen Downton Abbey since my previous announcement of our break-up (but I’m not saying that I’ll never watch it again either).

Because I don’t believe in saying never.

Also, I don’t understand writers who think their writing stinks or who fish for compliments. If you stink—or if you think you stink—why are you writing? There’s nothing wrong with owning your strengths. We are so afraid of being perceived as arrogant that we sometimes can’t even embrace our confidence. Let’s reclaim confidence.

Okay, off my soapbox now.

Speaking of soap, I loathe laundry and mine tends to pile up because I wait and do it all in one day in a few large loads. I tell my husband (and myself) that it’s because I have a small child and the laundry room is downstairs and that if, someday, we have a washing machine up near the kitchen (where they should be), that the laundry will always be done. However, this doesn’t completely take into account that the part about laundry I dislike is the folding.

I know how to fold a fitted sheet…wait for it…two different ways! (But I still bundle it up in a kind-of-neat ball and put it in the linen closet.)

My daughter is snoring next to me. She’s only napping because she’s home sick. While I don’t want her to feel unwell, her little body sleeping soundly next to my furiously typing one is like a tiny piece of heaven that I’ll keep stored away in my heart forever.

I’m using Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You? as a mousepad, and I’m leaning forward at an awkward, uncomfortable angle to reach the mouse because the book is wedged between my slumbering child’s leg and my own.

I refuse to use my laptop’s lame attempt at a “mouse”—and I insist on using a real one instead.

Finally, I hope my little girl sleeps for awhile, because, frankly, I need the break.

Over and out.

Photos: Author’s own.

The post Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill—Um, Wednesday Edition. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

I’m aware that this is Tuesday, so let’s first get that out of the way.

Also, I’m aware that inappropriate is spelled inappropriately in the picture above, but I love this image regardless.

Okay, here goes.

I’m still watching Glee. Actually, now my daughter and I are having regular jam sessions with our recently purchased CD of season one.

I finally took my Christmas tree down…this weekend…and I miss it.

I haven’t been to the yoga studio for a live class in my longest away-from-studio stretch ever, nearly a month (due to weather and illness and general child care related to both of these things) and I’m both dying to get back and also, unexpectedly, enjoying my time “off.”

I don’t actually take time “off” from my yoga practice. I believe all yoga practitioners should have some form of practice at home.

I placed my purple stuffed kitten with the filthy mouth from my kisses on my new yoga room table as part of my collection of special, inspiring things.

The reason that I didn’t say my “childhood purple stuffed kitten” is because I got her in high school.

I’ve already pre-ordered Frozen on dvd (and I’m as excited as my toddler about it).

Not only am I not sick of winter or snow or below-freezing Midwestern temperatures, I’m glad that darn groundhog saw his shadow.

I’m still a little sorrowful that I never got to see the groundhog ritual when I lived in PA. (To be fair, I lived nowhere near Punxsutawney.)

Can you believe that the groundhog has an organizational website page—and that I seriously took the time to visit it?

I unfollowed a few people on Instagram this week because I got so tired of seeing their yoga photos.

I feel like a superstar when I wear my new animal-print Teeki pants. I had the most invigorating practice the day that I got them in the mail and I’m positive that it’s not a coincidence.

Yep, that’s my butt. My husband thinks I should be embarrassed to put it out into cyberspace. But I’m not. And sadly that doesn’t embarrass me much either. (Oh, and I Instagrammed that—yes, I get the irony.)

My daughter and I have matching unicorn Teeki pants, and I’m not sure which one of us gets a bigger kick out of dressing alike when we wear them. Wait, I’m pretty sure it’s me.

I might be an openly sensitive person, but when something shakes me deeply, I instantly want to retract, pull back and coldly detach. I wish I was the kind of person who, when stressed, resorted to needing tender, cozy hugs and soft words, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be this person.

Over and out!

The post A (Belated) Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

Here goes.

My second dirty secret spill, in what I hope will be a weekly special here on my website.

The above picture is from roughly four years ago, when I was asked to be a hair model. I like the picture, though, and I like to switch my bio images up every now and then, so I used it.

And…Downton Abbey and I broke up.

It wasn’t messy and I don’t have hard feelings, but, last week’s episode, frankly, wasn’t enjoyable to watch. It was, for me, just too much horrible drama.

Yet, part of the reason saying (a temporary?) good-bye to Downton wasn’t terribly difficult was because…I’m already seeing someone else.

Yes, I’ve been watching—drum roll—Glee.

This might be a television show from 2009—and I may or may not have religiously made fun of it—but I’d never seen even a five-second clip of this show until this past week.

Because after last Monday’s dirty secret spill two things happened: one, my daughter got sick and we spent quite a lot of time holed up together at home and, two, well, I’ll get to that shortly.

So, back to my child getting sick.

She loves music. Loves. (I actually think that she could be in a glee club someday.)

I was browsing our Amazon Prime selections and noticed Glee as a “recently added tv show” and I knew instantly that she would adore the musical aspect of it.

Needless to say, she did break out her microphone to begin singing along after less than five minutes of the first episode, and it helped make our week amazing rather than difficult.

And, the second thing that happened last week.

This:

A

And this:

(Yes that’s a one-horsepower car.)

And this, too:

(Yep, that’s a full kitchen, a loft—oh and my husband later made me a lava lamp.)

Oh, and…this:

Yes, my name is Jennifer and I’m obsessed (again, at age thirtysomething) with Legos.

Also last week, I officially diagnosed myself with ADEVVC.

Adult Delayed Eddie Vedder Voice Crush.

I might have owned Pearl Jam’s first album Ten on a cassette tape (Google it if you were too young to have ever used Myspace—which, much to my joy, is often referenced in these early Glee episodes), but I was never a Pearl Jam fan. I lost interest after Vs. (Although I did buy that on—ahem—CD.)

Anyways, I’m still constantly listening to the Into the Wild soundtrack (hence my ADEVVC).

I now have 51 followers on Instagram rather than 8. (Not to brag or anything.)

I keep tissues in my bra because I’m usually wearing yoga leggings with no pockets. (Hey, at least I don’t keep pencils, money and a full-on purse selection in there like my great-grandma did—yet.)

I feel bad a$$ when I drive my stick-shift Jetta.

I haven’t listened to my voice mails in nearly two weeks.

I’m still not used to my iPhone’s touch screen. (Which is probably why I didn’t text you back yet.)

I’m down with Madonna’s general need for attention, but not with her recent usage of the N-word.

I was rooting for Gwen Stefani to have a girl.

I won’t let my husband take our Christmas tree down.

I was thrilled to finally share some of my storytelling with the world via this article about envy, but I’m not really an envious person—which is why I wrote it.

One last dirty secret spill for this Monday morning:

That caged girl piece I wrote?

I’m really proud of it—it’s my personal best so far—but it wasn’t hard for me to share.

It didn’t feel courageous or brave or any of the other beautiful responses that readers have messaged me (but thank you). And here’s why:

Some things shouldn’t have to be secrets in the first place.

Over and out—for now.

Photo credit: Author’s own; Neal Jennings/Flickr.

The post Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

I began watching Sex and the City prequel The Carrie Diaries on Netflix during my sinus surgery—and I haven’t stopped. My husband put plex on our TV so I can watch new episodes (I don’t own cable and my television is. not. flat.)

I waited up until 10 pm for Downton Abbey…only to discover that it’s on at 9. (Yes, that’s waiting up for me. Hubby went to bed mad at me because I was “overly angry” about missing the show.)

After many years of enjoyment, I won’t be renewing my Yoga Journal subscription.

I’m an Elephant Journal member, and I’m still excited that they upped the reads from two to three per day, for non-members.

I’m drinking coffee out of Santa’s head…and I don’t give a damn.

I will never be able to spell occasionally correctly. Yep, I just had that fixed thanks to my handy, dandy computer.

It might be a lot too late, but I finally bought the Into the Wild soundtrack and I can’t stop listening to it. (And I think Chris McCandless was an idiot who went into the wild.)

My daughter’s favorite show is Mr. Rogers spin off Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood—and maybe only parents want to talk about their kids learning Spanish from Dora or weird, drug-induced monster creations, but this show is better than any other kids program I’ve ever seen, with the exception of the aforementioned Mr. Rogers.

Okay, I think that’s enough for now…but only because I can’t remember the one that made me start writing this in the first place.

P.S. Oh, and I’ll add that I joined Instagram—and I only have 8 followers. Yep, so there’s that.

P.P.S. I created the category “Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill,” so I guess look for another edition of this next Monday!

P.P.P.S. I haven’t written post scripts in such a childish manner since, well, I was a child (passing notes in, probably, the fourth grade)—and I’m digging it.

Photo: Rennett Stowe/Flickr.

The post Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.