Figuring out what 10 looks like

The Elder is a giganto 1-0 today...fully embracing that decade status.  You might think to yourself that three's not so much of a difference between 9 and 10 years, but there seems to be big changes on the horizon. 

Case in point: NO birthday cake today.  Apparently, we are raising a heathen.  Instead, she wanted a big bowl of homemade whipped cream, a big bowl of chocolate buttercream frosting (which has been her favorite "food" for years now...we talk about it a lot), and ice cream (sorbet and ice cream).  She conceded to throwing some strawberries in there for some sort of nominal foundation for that sugar surge. 

She is truly living her best life, it seems.

A few weeks ago, she learned how to ride her bike.  And I am furiously OK with her waiting until she cared about riding a bike to do this, even if that looks like 9-years old.  And now we're anticipating this kiddo riding herself to school and then back home again all by herself next year.  It's only through our neighborhood, about 1/2 a mile, but there are still things like intersections and teenage drivers and will-she-get-herself-out-of-the-hosue-on-time-all-by-herself that we're going to need to contend with and bump into and generally figure out is a normal transitioning process for a kid her age.  More compelling in this new next-school-year scenario is that she'll be coming home to an empty house every day after school. 

Is this what really happens when your kid suddenly comes up to your shoulders?  WHO KNEW that 21" suddenly morphs into 48" virtually overnight?  It's a mystery (beffudling many, I'm sure).

Meanwhile, I'll just leave this hear to soothe my tender heart strings.  I might revisit this page a few many, many times (just to, you know, glance at my girl).

 

Daily YES

So I started this 2 weeks ago.  I’m finishing it and posting it tonight because of all that’s coming out in the next paragraph.  That’s me life, mates.

All, listen up.  I have more book-y things that I can’t help but talk about (again).  2019 is my year of remembering what I love about reading, I think.  It just so happens that these book-y things have corresponded largely with ends of semesters and beginning of a new course, and 100 essays due.  But that’s also partly why I’m here today:

What is saving your life, today?

I halfheartedly listen to a podcast that ends every show asking the guest this Barbara Brown Taylor question: What is saving your life today?  And in my moments of mind-boggling business, I’m trying to find those chunks of time (even if it’s just 3 or 5 minutes while I’m waiting for the next thing to start) and to remember those daily rituals that truly do save my life right now. 

One of those key “things” for me right now is BOOKS.

A few years ago, I virtually s-t-o-p-p-e-d reading fiction.  I didn’t stop reading…just fiction unless I knew for 100% and certain that I was probably going to like it, which means that I pretty much quit the habit.  I dove hard into memoir and non-fiction, which I was finding to be more reliably satisfying for me.  I went through a period of time where it seemed like virtually every fiction book I picked up was gimmicky, cheesy, trite, predictable, formulaic, and gag-inducing.  Largely speaking, I loathe first person perspective.  Generally, I don’t want to see the end of the story in the first chapter.  Often, I find dialogue tired and irritating.

However, I’ve discovered book-ish podcasts, as I’ve mentioned.  Spoiler: I now listen to 3 a week. 

These really get my ink filled heart ventricles pumping, let me tell you.  Maybe it’s the soothing tones of the podcasters’ voices.  Maybe it’s their collective ability to hit on the best bits of the stories.  Maybe it’s something else…don’t know.  But it’s almost single handedly reunited me with fiction, and I’ve been hoovering up a good bit of it (at least relative to my recent couple of years).  Renewing my confidence in a good story is truly saving my life right now.

(Also, one particular kind of coconut granola.  It’s perfection.  I buy myself 1 box a week and burn through it often M-W.  There are more than 3 servings in a box.  Imagine how I feel when I read while eating a large-y bowl-ful.)

I meant to write a gabby little post over Spring Break five weeks ago about book-y things and book-ness and probably some book-itude, but it never happened because, honestly, I was reading.  So I’ll add this to my life saving moments: carving out thou-shalt-have-these-few-moments-each-day-just-for-reading time has been such a boon to my mental health of late.  I work ever so much better when I set myself up with manageable chunks of work to do each night and then STOP.  Knowing that I have a personality that enjoys a challenge, even if that challenge is DUMB, like “how much can I work tonight?” is h-u-g-e to understanding my limits.  If I don’t set them from the outset, then I just don’t stop well or enough.  That’s another one that’s really saving me right now.  And it only took me a decade and a half of adulthood to start figuring that one out.  (Maybe if I had read a book about it earlier…)

And so, like the particular coconut granola and my book time, I have a few more things that individually are a blip on the day’s radar but collectively are evidence of me supporting ME.

·      Taking a deep breath

·      Not caring if I’m wearing my same, favorite clothes a lot

·      Ice cream – just a few bites

·      Ginger beer – so delicious

·      Food in the freezer – not just the ice cream, but packing lunches is ever so much easier when you can pull a muffin or some flatbread out of the freezer to get things started

·      Project VII front porch lemonade gum

·      Waiting an extra 5 minutes to wake up the girls in the morning – a few more pages of reading & we still get out of the house at the same, general time

Two weeks ago, I had included “Funny, funny teenagers – they’re really something” on my list.  I’ve since removed that.  They’re no longer saving my life (shortening it, more likely); they’re all the feels, though.

It’s been grey and dreary all day, but right now as I am thinking about how to wrap this rambling bit of thoughts up, I glanced out the window and see perfect pre-summer sunset colors.  Less rain lately & more sun…saving my life.  Bless.

A few books of late

Folks,

Every time I work through a couple of books quicker than normal leaves me with a sense of awe.  Why yes, I did just read for fun.  Sure thing I did nothing but just read for a bit.  I know that I've mentioned this before, but it's truly one of the most mind boggling possibilities in my life right now.  The cool thing about the spring semester is that my Spring Breaks are staggered a bit, which effectively draws out one week off to about a month of low workload (read: GRADING).  And. That. Means. More. Reading.

A sample from the last week...

The Reckoning by John Grisham - 400+ pages, done in 1 week while working full-time and keeping 2 minors alive every day

It's a lot of classic Grisham and a decent amount of a different perspective that we've not seen from him before.  Here's the thing.  We still all love Grisham for classic Grisham writing.  But after a couple of dozen novels, I get how he wants to try new things.  I'm cool with that.  I'm even more cool with that when it's caught up in something that's well familiar and, as aforementioned, well loved.  Dang, but he's a good storyteller.  It's hard to get readers to care about characters that they don't like and aren't supposed to like.

Tracks by Robyn Davidson - 200-ish pages, taking longer to get through

I'm a bit too meh about this, but it's gripping in the unexpected.  She's not the best writer, but she also makes no bones about not trying to be.   There are enough Australian moments and wordings that pass me by to keep things tingly as we go, which is really what I like best about it.  I don't want to be reading another American's privileged journey.  Here's the thing...I don't really know WHY the journey was a necessary moment in her life.  And that's a bit disorienting.  But, there are camels.  And who knew that camels could be so interesting. ***Addendum since I've finished reading this: It never paid off for me, but I OK enjoyed it because camels and Australia.***

The Cafe by the Sea: A novel by Jenny Colgan - almost 400 pages, not a debut novel but rather reads like one (a bit twisty, loose ends that are long in the set-up but quick in the resolution)

It's nice to read something that tastes a little bit familiar in a vastly different and unknown environment.  Overall, light and fluffy is sometimes so satisfying just to flip-flip-flip through a chunk of pages.  Skim read.  Who cares if you remember all the details?  Jettison a few chapters instead of just one before bed.  This was my runner-up option to take this new author for a spin, and I think I'll come back for another round once I find the book I was trying for to begin with.

I'm dabbling in the possibility of utilizing more audio books, something I've never really used for myself being more of a podcast kind of girl.  But those podcasts are going to have to go on hiatus for a bit.  Because it turns out that I can listen to a couple of Mary Roach books, which have long been on my list to explore.  And if you're on the Mary Roach fan club, let me know which is your favorite (I have Stiff waiting on deck ready to go tomorrow).  

I have words to hear and sentences to explore, new story lines that I've never been privy to before.  I'm 10 books done for 2019, and it's a comparable feeling (I imagine) as looking up from your iPhone one day in a crowded cafe and locking eyes with the one who you used to believe was going to be the love of your life but has only turned into a passing acquaintance.  But then that eye catching moments leaves you realizing that YES, you remember why this person is so perfect in any way, despite the flaws and weird quirks (s)he has.  It's time to rekindle some of that old fire.

Today: nothing special & pretty great

Today,

1.  I got paid to sit at my desk on my day off and grade for 5+ hours...sounds like a scam, but it even involved doughnut holes.  For the win.

2.  I played Scrabble (the real one) with my 6-year old, who is thrilled to play 2 & 3 letter words and didn't that I got the J, the X, the Z, and the Q and threw them down on a couple of triple letter tiles.  Boss points that we weren't keeping.

3.  I made dinner.  And extra dinner for the week.  And cinnamon rolls for a carry-in brunch at church (have sweeter words ever been uttered before...!?!).  And no one complained that dinner was 40-ish minutes late in so doing.  And it felt great flexing my triple-dipping-at-a-time skills.  Cutting board kung fu.

4.  I got to just read out loud to my child.  Some day they won't want me to anymore.  My soul feels a little bit shrively when I consider that possibility.  (Our pastor will tell me "You read well" when I volunteer for the prayers at church.  I think to myself "I have months upon years of practice.  I can narrate Paul in his letters to the Corinthians like a boss.")  Voices for every chracter.

5.  I ate 2 1/2 of the cinnamon rolls in front of my child while they were perfectly warm, soft & pillowy, and she didn't notice.  Admittedly, I take some joy in my ninja skills.  Plus, I needed her to eat some peas for the love of vegetables.  All were happy.

6.  The boy single parented most of the day, and props to him because winter is wearing on that guy's soul, and the girls have been sharp like icicles a few times too many when he's been wearing the proverbial parent hat.  But then he had some quality Monopoly time and work time and chit-chat-just-because-time with the Elder.  Some things are true and necessary.  For the love.

7.  I got to write a court report tonight for my CASA kid and just glow in it for the first time - so many good things happening, so long in coming.  We're on the upswing here.  Thanks be.

8.  I heard the Younger sing.  And sing.  And SING unconsciously.  She just does, with all of the joyful verve and abandon that a 6-year old can bring to to the table.  She has a knack for picking up on lyrics, and there's something delightfully ironic (if not forehead-slapping-I-can't-believe-my-kid-sings-this) about a tiny tot putting some soul into "Jolene" and the one who's "begging on my knees, don't take my man."  Eat your heart out, Dolly.

9.  There have been a couple of rounds of thunderstorms roll through - honest to goodness, I just jumped out of my skin thunder boomers.  Tonight, the boy added "spring thunderstorms" to our thankful prayer because any sign that the end is drawing 'nigh is a praise ye, hallelujah.  Let it be so. 

10.  Books are saving my soul right now.  Get thee to a book repository and read Tsh Oxenreider's At Home in the World: Reflections on belonging while wondering the globe.  Post haste.  I may have absolutely searched flights and guesthouse rental options for Europe last night.  There's validation in the pages that discomfort and childish airport shenanigans are, you know, worth traveling through.  Why do we need the OKAY in order to take our children and go do world things (not resort things but real, honest-to-different-culture-world-things)?  I don't know.  But validation sure helps.  My itchy travel itch is getting all itched up.  Let's go.

unrelenting grossness

Folks, this winter is the worst.  I’m sure I think that and feel that every winter.  But I’m serious this time.  (Until next winter.)  As a point of comparison, the boy hasn’t had a full 5 days of school any week yet this semester, and they returned from school on January 3.  This winter has all of the bad weather possibilities.  Literally, all of them.  On consecutive days.  Snow, fog, and thunder storms within 24 hours…mind boggling.

Because I live here and that means I actually live in the upstairs of our house for the 6-months of the year when the furnace is in use and hot air rises, I haven’t seen the boy much lately.  He is of the (s-t-r-a-n-g-e) notion that if one wears enough socks and t-shirt/long-sleeved t-shirt/sweater/sweatshirts all at once, then the downstairs is bearable.  I disagree.  I do, however, require slippers/2 blankets/a sweatshirt/a heater of a cat/all of the upstairs heat in order to maintain my winter comfort.  But that also brings about more possibility of STATIC ELECTRICITY. 

Again, I insist that we all consider this to winter to be the absolute worst. 

Case in point: The boy washed a load of blankets because a mercifully short but still germy round of sickness & contagion hit the house.  Some of us like to wrap up in blankets when we are not feeling in tip-top shape.  Some of us like even more to wrap up in MOMMY’S blankets when we’re not feeling at our very best.  So into the wash went Mommy’s blankets.  I retrieved them tonight from the dryer deliciously warm and toasty, ready to wrap up in that luxury only to be (figuratively but also literally) DEMOLISHED by static electricity in separating the blankets to reposition into perfect tuckage-innage-nestage. 

Serious face: During this process, I did entertain the thought that “This hurts now, but it will all be worth it.”  In other words, no pain – no gain. 

One shouldn’t have to contend with considering her personal pain threshold when trying to tuck into blankets.  THIS WINTER IS THE WORST.

As a last point of contention, exhibit Q: I have to dope myself up with 2000 units of vitamin D because my levels are PERILOUSLY LOW (emphasis & embellishment mine).  In other words, THIS WINTER IS THE WORST BECAUSE THERE HAS BEEN NO SUN IN WHICH I WISH TO PARTAKE. 

(Conversation with P.A. who ultimately sent me over to “the labs” for an $800 blood draw that I DID NOT know was $800)

“Are you tired a lot?”

“I teach 9 classes.”

“So…are you tired a lot?”

“See previous answer.”

“Take vitamin D.  Women in the Midwest often have really low levels which leads to feelings of tiredness.”

)

But no matter what the cesspool that is WINTER throws at me, I can still eat ice cream. 

(Yes, it probably is because of the layers upon layers of clothing and languishing in all of the warm air in this house.)

Also, snow banks are fun to drive through and I hope that I don’t accidentally hit someone’s mailbox in so doing because sometimes, I think I get really close.  That would be embarrassing. 

1,000 miles

When you sit down to hammer out the deadlines and details and end up a couple of hours later with your head spinning because all of the numbers to juggle...

The beginning of the semester: lots of dates, lots of assignment points, lots of bits and details that you sometimes remember to do and sometimes don't.  And I'm also trying to jam in all of the reading that I can manage and all of the rounds of Skip-Bo and Yahtzee that we can happily play together.  But it's a good kind of busy.

Except for the painting that I'm (hopefully) finishing up today.  I'm done with painting.

But I'm also going to run first because painting makes me tired, it turns out.  And this year, I'm tracking my exercise miles with a goal for at least 1,000 miles this calendar year.  I broke out my new pair of shoes to start me off, though some of my toes are still getting a bit numb around 15-18 minutes in, but they fit like champs and they have that delightful, grippy feel that just makes me feel faster. 

(But I'm not faster.  True story:  I've slowed down a couple of ticks from where I was running last year and added a couple of extra pounds last year.  I see a correlation, but I'm also hungry a lot.)

But 1,000 miles: 20 miles for 50 weeks.  If you want, check in with me throughout the year.  Once the semester starts, it's really easy to justify a short run every time (2.3 miles = 300 calories x 5 times a week = not enough miles). 

I like round numbers.  I like goals to aim for.  And I really like the accomplishment of an extended effort.  Slow and steady this year, folks.  Let's do it.   

It's been forever...my brain hurts

This is a momentous day.  I have FINALLY looked up the password for this old blog so that I can sign in on the computer that I actually use on the daily minute-ly basis, which should (I'm hoping) restore some of my blogging frequency.  'Cause folks...it's been over 2 months.  And per my normal, I've been thinking blog frequently and even wrote a post once and then never took the time to wrestle with the other computer. 

Thanks be to employers that gift me with faster, more reliable computers.  It's really all I want for most of my day.

I also want a brain break.  I'm hot in the middle of a stretch of every-minute-is-scripted-and-vital-to-getting-everything-done-in-a-matter-of-weeks.  I'm doing a wee bit better this semester finding little chunks of break time and keeping those sacred and all the difference right there as far as fighting the mental fatigue.  But still, some of the days-turned-weeks are still heavy. 

Meanwhile...

• I renewed some amount of my voracious reading appetite over Fall Break thanks in no small measure to the What Should I Read Next podcast.  It's like walking into a French pastry shop after you've been walking around Montmartre all morning and didn't realize how hungry you were.  Then suddenly, you must have all of the pastries.  Perhaps this isn't a familiar situation to many of us, but still, I have full confidence that this is the same emotional outpouring that I'm experiencing about books right now.  A favorite book candy author of late is Sarah Addison Allen, who dabbles in just a skoshe of magical realism and the fantastic, a pastry-esque bite of it: quick reads & leave you wanting another one.  (Confession:  I've read several of her books and still had to just look up the author's name.)
• My baseball season combined both exultation and heart rending emotions.  It was a fun year.  Feel free to ask me about the post-season awards this year, but come prepared to that conversation with a beverage of choice and maybe a comfy pillow to sit upon.  You'll be my captive audience for a while.
• We took the girls to the biggest, closest body of water that we could find in October for a couple of days.  And it was frigid.  And we still had lovely, lovely times, proving that YES, my children are growing up.  
• Every couple of years, I remember that I have an electric tart warmer and pull it out for a day or two.  Well.  We're all delighted with the copious amount of smell goods of late.  
• We spent weeks puttzing around on figuring exact figures for adding a 3rd bay onto the garage for storage and, frankly, aesthetics rather than finally getting that shed.  Because while we're not at all hoarders of things in sheds, it's still convenient to have a place to put both a car and a push mower inside at the same time.  Our mini garage doesn't fulfill that dream.  But the projected cost of the 3rd bay kept ballooning, and now we are the tepid owners of a shed that is nominally the same tannish color as the house that is plainly visible from the street (kudos HOA...that doesn't look pretty dumb AT ALL!!!) and was stuck IN THE MIDDLE OF OUR BACKYARD FOR A WEEK before *they* figured that situation out.  It's a mostly hate-hate situation between me and the shed.  And then I still had to pay for this annoying thing.  There's obviously a story here (a couple of them, in fact), but it's all about a S-H-E-D.  I'll spare you the gory details.
• Also, I'm crafting a brand new course this semester that a) no one else teaches (i.e. I'm not terribly accountable to anyone at or above my pay grade) and b) is currently studying horror in literature.  Gory details indeed...
• I don't really like or need 95% of what constitutes as Christmas and lo it is still coming.  I shall soon hermit myself.  (Maybe I'll blog more...?) 
• I do like Thanksgiving.  I want to keep this one.  

I'm currently reading Buttermilk Graffiti by Edward Lee.  IF you like food stuff and IF you like memoir writing, I encourage you to give this one a read.  It's more anthropological than memoir, but there's a definite strand of that intertwined and, frankly, it's an interesting take on food origins.  Let me know what you're reading; I'm primed for new suggestions!