I know...another camping story

I am happy to report that when your children are exhausted while camping, they sleep through raging neighbors and raging thunderstorms.

Ask me how I know.  (Actually, I'll just tell you.)

Also ask me how well I slept.  (Not well.)

Another week, another camping trip.  The foam pad + self-inflating camping mat are working like a charm even for this side sleeper; I may have sleeping woes, but these aren't part of 'em.  On the other hand, I loathe sleeping bags.  They're restrictive and almost always too hot for camping in the summer.  

We joined some extended family for a few days in Wisconsin and ran into both the hottest/muggiest/grossest weather + loudest/intensest/grossest storms of the summer all in a matter of a couple of days.  

But the bugs weren't terrible. 

The food wasn't terrible, either.  This family knows how to eat.

But the heat was relentless, which really puts the kibosh on family-bonding-hiking time.  I mean, we still went hiking, but the experience was something of a challenge, especially for The Elder, who has a happy temperature zone of 71-74 degrees with low humidity, mostly sunny, no bugs, and almost no humidity.  Given those conditions, she's a smiley child who is a joy and a delight; she will explore new places and marvel at nature.  Outside of those conditions, she has easily notched the 20 or so worst days of her life.  (She'll tell us so because each time, "This is the worst day ever."  We continue to find new ways to ruin her life experience, it seems.) . Her broodiness is prone to infecting others of her age set, so there's no doubt that this kid is a leader.  In other words, we had a few grumpy kids among our hiking group.  

A joy.  And a delight.

At least nature was surrounding us with craggy views and gorgeous lakes.

The kid did have a bit of a point, though: We ended up walking/hiking/plodding almost 3.5 miles with some significant changes in elevation and general rock clambering.  It was also about 2.5 miles longer than I anticipated, so imagine The Elder's delight when my promise at the beginning that "It will be short and easy...no one wants to go on a long, difficult hike in this heat" turned out to be 1000% false.  She was basically expressing all of the frustration that I, too, was feeling toward the 60-year olds who chose the trail.  Who knew that these people felt like tapping into their mountain goat younger selves when the heat index was hovering around 100 degrees and it was s.o. h.u.m.i.d?  

I'll repeat:  At least nature was surrounding us with craggy views and gorgeous lakes for these are the times that try men's souls.

Ah, one tiny detail that I cannot forget:  I had around 2 1/2 hours of sleep from the night before.  The boy had around 3 hours.  BECAUSE OUR NEIGHBORS WERE LUDICROUS AND THE STORMS NEVER STOPPED THE NIGHT BEFORE.  

I mean.  It's hard to start your day with a fortifying gulp and thoughts of doom & gloom.  

The 2 camp sites across from ours had EIGHT tents of people and the children were still crazy hellions at 1 AM when the park ranger finally drove by and said "Hey, friends, this has probably gone on long enough.  FOR THE LOVE."  Even The Boy couldn't sleep, which is telling of their ludicrosity.  We did enjoy a generous 15 minutes of silence then before the first round of storms came.

SO LOUD.  Rain is quite thunderous on a tent.  Searing lightening + bone crunching thunder = no sleep gonna happen.  And these were crazy storms with at least 3 sustained rounds rolling through right on top of each other: one round starts to taper off, the next round rolls in just as fiercely.  I did drift off for about 30 minutes around 2:45 AM before waking back up for a bit and then finally getting to some deeper REM sleep after 3:45 AM.  The Younger, who slept through all of everything, did wake up at 4:30 AM and decide she needed to snuggle (of course she did).  Fortunately, we got to doze for a bit after that.   

My sleep schedule is just to let you know that it was a slog.  And while we have 1 more camping trip planned for the year, I'm ready for a break.  It's just too extra right now.  If you find us vacationing in some fancy schmancy resort in Aruba next year, this could be why.  

Camping whip lash -- a bit of yin to this year's yang.

A 2-week countdown

Interweb people:

I am 2-weeks-from-tomorrow back to my full-time gig and I still have a pile of 12 books waiting to be read.  Because I added 3 more to it today.  That might be possible for some and that "some" is not me.  I've been chugging along at a brisk-ish pace, though, and it has been a good stretch of reading that I'm all in for. 

I do believe that I'll miss that the most of all come 60-work weeks on top of keeping 2 humans alive.  And I'll miss my top-knot-bun thing I've been living with all summer.  Deep layers of sadness and sorrow happened to my hair when my normal hair dresser was at a conference (in somewhere Norway/Sweden/Denmark-y, none the less) and I told the sub, "I usually tell Hannah to just do whatever as long as I can still pull it up in a ponytail."  DEEP layers of sorrow and sadness.  And my hair is fine, slippery stuff, which means that you can tell me all you want that "You can pull this into a ponytail, no problem," but those deeeeeep layers defy your foolish words. 

I've been managing my sorrow, but just barely, as you can tell. 

Also, my kids were about pushing me over a gentle cliff with their anxious we're-waiting-to-leave-the-house-ness, and then they both sat down with books.  My word, that is what dreams are made of (which is also while I'm here for a minute -- when in Rome...).

I had other things to say but am currently beyond irritated at my computer/printer combination.

Also, I am going to eat an ice cream bar today, I believe.

I must go read.

Camping in Our 30s

This is the summer of the camping trip.  We have a whopping FOUR trips planned, which is a couple more than normal.  We're usually down for 2 definite camping trips and sometimes slip a 3rd into the mix somewhere, but scheduling purposes have allowed and encouraged four trips to happen.  

And folks, we are tent campers.  Also, the boy and I are solidly in our 30s and THIS IS NO JOKE anymore.  

Case in point:  As I lay on my bedding situation Sunday night at approximately 1:36 AM (not approximate at all, mind you...I was still trying to fall asleep and had just looked at the time after trudging to the bathrooms twice which is not common to my current life situation & nothing wakes you up more than coming face-to-face with a campground-fat raccoon), I wondered A) how is it that we went from blithely sleeping on grounds/floors/hard surfaces to these-hips-don't-lie in a matter of a mere decade, and B) how do people do it on the regular on legit hiking trips?  Props and claps and all the nods to them.  

I don't know if you've noticed, but this spring has been 178% saturated.  Nary a day has passed in the last 24 weeks (give or take a couple) that hasn't included either threatening or downpouring skies.  I know we're just wallowing in our inconvenience here, but this family is over it.  We have been inside more and crabbier.  We.  Need.  Sun.  

And like any fully technologized person of 2019, we obsessively followed the radar for seemingly by the minute updates on whether or not it would dump buckets on us SLASH throw more severe storms at us.  It turns out that the correct answer here is both "neither" and "yes."  There was rain, it turns out, but it was always conveniently located and the dense foliage basically kept us happily comfortable.  There were severe storms but only as figments of our radar's imagination as they kept magically breaking up.  So, around the witching hour (the one where our children turn into ravenous, impatient little people who must be attended to right now or else they will become banshees), we faced a decision:  There was a (literal) room at the inn and we had the chance to grab it as insurance from those promised and threatening severe storms but we had to make that decision imediamente.  

We paid the $130 insurance policy.

There were also no subsequent storms.

It was a beautiful night for camping.

Oh, the joy that nestled in my heart.

The boy and I were on a camping trip with siblings 11 years ago that was the opposite of this experience.  During ye olden era of 2008, none of us had smart anything or tuned into anything resembling THE WEATHER FORECAST.  Here's what our rationale for the trip likely entailed:  It is summer.  Summer is hot.  Today is sunny.  Today is a sunny, hot, summer day.

Did you know that sunny, hot summer days can also (freakishly) turn into scary, turbulent, stormy summer nights?  True enough.

That trip resulted in leaking tents, scary lightening, high winds, a mad scramble for a hotel room that could house 6 people sometime in the midnight-2 AM range, a wallet left out on a picnic table, and a brand new turned ruined canopy.

It seemed like the prudent idea to grab the room at the inn and not challenge the camping gods again.  And I did get to sleep in a bed instead that night.  But still.

IF we had the space and IF we had a few extra grand (can we talk about a new shed and a new roof and new flooring-that-costs-more-than-the-roof-because-the-previous-owners-installed-it-wrong), we would probably be looking for something like this: 

Because nothing says "riding out the storms at the campground" like a vintage 1970 Shasta camper.  

(It's actually pretty sweet inside.)

It has to be an upgrade over sleeping on dirt and tree roots.

One more trip around her sun

Birthday season happens in some furious bursts around here.  Fresh on the heels of reckoning with the Elder's age change, we have another one today with the Younger.  She is every bit a force clothed in the guise of a cuddle bug.  This one is my special little something that is alternately incomprehensible and perfectly predictable.  Sometimes, that's how our days go as well - as if a veritable pendulum swings us one way and then another.  She loves her people fiercely, and I have no idea what her future will look like.  She's a chameleon who doesn't give us any indication where she will establish her groove into her life's journey.  I find that delicious and tantalizing that there will be options a plenty: It's a joy to watch her casually explore her possibilities.  

She is always our last one to ... and that gives me the feels on a day like today.  She's the last one that I will carry across a parking lot.  She's the last one who will let me hold her hand.  She's the last one who I will drop off before school.  She's the last one who will let me read to her.  I'm not one who cares two pennies for many a socially expected sentimental milestone (my children want to skip the rigmarole of a graduation ceremony...good for them!  skip Senior year entirely and graduate early...YES and PLEASE!), but these are my milestones that I care deeply about, ones that are largely found in the solitude of just me and my girl.  My favorite milestones are measured in the distance between our hands, the space between our cheeks, and the span of our arms.  

This is enough.

 

 

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.