How To Choose

I went camping this weekend.  More specifically I went camping, with kids, by myself, at the end of a very curvy and steep (can you say cliff?) road.  Well, that's not a completely accurate statement.  I actually went camping with a load of very good friends but the driving part and the kids part is totally true.

 I detest packing and unpacking a car.  I stress over the planning of the logistics of a trip.  I don't really like traveling by myself.  I really, really dislike driving steep, cliff-edged roads.  Coordinating kids and their ensuing safety, eating, and sleeping needs whilst traveling causes enough anxiety to render me unable to enjoy myself.  And don't even get me started on the chaos that inevitably greets me once I return home.

But I did it.  I camped with kids and fed them football field nachos for dinner.  No one showered for days and I cannot begin to imagine how many cans of soda were consumed.  I drank beer in a parking lot and bourbon under the stars.  I even drove winding roads, albeit slowly, and got us where we needed to be.  In one piece!

I noticed on the way home that the vineys are starting to turn.  And I remembered how Bill would always find them at his job and cut several branches to bring home to me.  In fact, I don't think I considered Fall to have begun until he'd brought me home some of those maple branches.

Wham.  And the sadness slips in again.

A while back, I had someone send me a little blurb they'd found on Facebook probably.  Something about choosing a person who wanted to take care of you, not materialistically, but someone to take care of your heart and your soul.  Those maples made me think about those words.

Maybe we should choose to have people in our lives who will take the time to cut the branches or pick the wild flowers just because they know it will make us smile.  And maybe we should choose the person who will bring us licorice or gummy bears just because they know it's our favorite candy.  Or the one who will sweep or vacuum the mess off the floor because they know how much it annoys you and prevents you from relaxing on the sofa.  The one who knows your favorite song and remembers the name of the dog you had as a kid.  We should surround ourselves with the people who just sit and listen to our talking because they understand that putting those words into the air takes away some of their sting.

I guess it all comes down to finding people who want to quietly bring comfort and kindness and happiness into your life.  With no agenda.  Just to see you happy.  It seems like a simple idea but I'm finding that it's rather rare to find people like this.  Seems like there's an awful lot of selfish, cold, blind folks who can't figure out why their lives are so empty and sad.

And I think about those words again.  Heart and soul.  Fill them up with unselfish love.    

I do believe I can find some of those vine maples to cut by myself.  And I'm pretty sure that this time I'll share them with someone else.

Cyclical

As I was driving home from dropping the kids off at school this morning I noticed a few leaves had begun to turn.  No longer were they the deep green, lush array of summer but instead they were looking drier and vaguely yellowish orange.  I suppose that Fall is on the way.  That’s the thing about seasons--nothing you do can stop them from cycling onward.  

When I saw those leaves this morning I have to admit that the first emotion I felt was a vague feeling of sadness.  Of hopelessness maybe?  And that got me thinking.  Why was that the first thing I felt with the realization that the summer was ending?  Why didn't I feel a spark of excitement with the approaching change of Fall?  Why?

I know that I’m not opposed to the comfortable assurance that a new season is always imminent.  There is definitely comfort in that truth.   And I know that I don’t feel this way because I favor one season over the others.  I believe that each season holds its own beautiful magic and is to be honored and celebrated equally.  

What I think is it’s the awareness that change, any change, reflects on us that time is passing.  And with the passing of time I suppose we have feelings of regret over time squandered.  Opportunities not taken.  Goals not accomplished.  Words not spoken.  So I guess that is called regret and maybe that is the reason I feel this indistinct sense of sadness. 

I know that I am not even afraid of the next season.  My melancholy is not the result of uncertainty or trepidation.  The changes that Nature creates challenge me to embrace the particular offerings of the moment.  Like I said before--each new season has it’s own magic to enjoy.  There is no room for fear in these moments.  Think about how New Year’s heralds in new calendars and new resolutions.  How Spring calls you to throw open the windows and clear away the stuffiness of winter and the arrival of flowers and gardens and warm breezes.  And remember how Summer offers warm, star-filled nights and plentiful fresh foods harvested from the garden.   And Fall causes us to feel the draw to go inside again, maybe creating new schedules and thinking about laying the first fire of the season on an especially mild evening.  Hmmm.  I like to think about the potential each moment provides.

But still the sadness persists.

Maybe it's also how the passing of time takes us farther away from our prior life.  There are plenty of things we want to leave behind us and move away from.  For sure.  But there are many things that we begrudgingly move beyond and I suppose that is why there is a gloomy, heavy-hearted sense to the awareness of time and the world moving onward.  It just takes me farther away from the happiness that gets smaller and smaller when I look at it over my shoulder.

And now, I think I'll go for a run and be glad that the cooler weather is just around the corner.

My favorites.

Hey, so how about we depart from the normal gloomy, whiney reflections about my life and do something way more fun?  Let's take a look at some of my favorite things!

I promise to get back to the deep stuff soon though.

Rodan and Fields!  I love this stuff.  It's the best skincare I've ever used.  A little pricey but it lasts for months and really delivers what it promises.  I think I actually save money in the long run because I don't wear foundation and I don't spend money on the latest skincare trend anymore either.  

I'm usually a Tide girl, though I will admit to bouts of making my own laundry detergent before.  Persil wins in the end.  It even gets rid of the sock funk from Jack's work socks.  And no one has broken out in a rash from it either, which happens regularly with my sensitive-skinned spawn.

WTF weather app.  This is the funniest app on my phone.  You can moderate the language if you choose.

Down Dog yoga app.  I use this yoga app several times each week.  You can choose your level of yoga-ness, length of time for the workout, and type of practice.  And it's free!

These are the greatest hair products that I have ever used.  And having done hair for a gazillion years I'm pretty sure I've used almost everything on the market so I am definitely qualified to make this claim.  My hair is fine, curly and frizzy, and color-treated and it still feels soft and healthy when I use this.  A little goes a loooonnnnggg way so my travel-sized bottles last forever.  

I had never shopped at Kohl's until a few months ago.  It's a great store!  I'm not much of a shopper really (unless you count Goodwill) but I have found some excellent deals and cute stuff at Kohl's.  And that Kohl's cash?!  Well, it's awesome.

This is the herd share where I buy my milk.  Wonderful family and wonderful milk.  This is definitely worth the price!

Great recipes and beautiful photos.  And, I know the people who created this site!  I have not tried one recipe that I have not loved.  Even the paleo treats are excellent.  Visit Justin and Erica for some healthy eating inspiration.

I love my Vitamix.  I bought reconditioned off the Vitamix website and received the same warranty as if buying a new one.  I use this appliance more than anything else in my kitchen (except maybe my tea kettle).  Salsa, graham cracker crumbs, grinding spices, smoothies, milkshakes, margaritas, sorbet, the list is endless!  Buy one of these!

The Game.

*This was written for the boys and coaches and parents who were part of the MCGRA 7th/8th JBO team at the end of their 2017 season*

For those of you (are there any who are reading this?) who didn’t know Bill, let me just tell you that he loved baseball.  He loved it more than most people because I suppose he understood it better than most people.  He would speak about the magic of baseball and until now I guess I didn’t exactly understand what he was talking about.  

Let me try to explain what I mean.

The magic of the game is not tied to the superstitions of the game.  Things like wearing the same pair of socks during a winning streak or jumping over the baseline when taking the field instead of stepping  directly on it.  Or maybe walking onto the pitcher’s mound with the same foot with each approach.  It's not even with the elaborate rituals a batter goes through when steps up to the plate.  Superstitions and habits are not magic.

It’s not about the constancy of the positions regardless of the age or the team either.  No, second baseman aren’t always “failed” shortstops.  Closing pitchers are not always a little crazy.  Right fielders don’t always watch the clouds to find pictures in them instead of paying attention to the game.  First basemen aren’t always the coach’s kid who can’t play anywhere else nor are they always fat.  Oh, I think there’s a little truth to most of it but it’s definitely not magical.

I think what Bill meant was that there is something magical about the game itself, the subtleties and nuances of the game.  The way a field looks when it’s freshly mowed and the infield is drug until it’s smooth as silk.  It’s in the moment when the lights are switched on and a game suddenly becomes a night game.  It’s also in the moment when the dust settles and you can finally see whether the runner is safe on the bag or not.  In a perfectly executed double play or a bunt that is laid out right along the third base line.  The magic is in the smells and sounds of the game:  The sound of the ball hitting the bat (sometimes on the handle even!) or the way the leather of a glove sounds when a ball is caught.  The smell of dirt and grass and seeds.  

That’s what he meant, I think.  And he was right.

But I have come to think of it a little bit differently.  I think the magic of the game lies in the community created by those involved.  The players, the parents, the spectators, even the umpires.  The magic is that everyone, regardless of height, weight, age, color, sex, level of education or intelligence, socio-economic status, whatever, can gather to essentially become one crazy, diverse, extraordinary family.  

That’s my take on it.  There lies the magic.

Bill endeavored to teach kids enough about the game that they, in turn, could perpetuate their love of it to the next generation.  “It’s a simple game,” he’d say, “you only have to throw a ball and catch a ball.”  I’m certain that he would be proud of this team and he would feel relief that his influence and instruction would not return empty.  His legacy will live on every time one of these boys shares their love of the game with someone else.  More magic.

He’d also say that JD was safe on third.

A Lesson I've Learned. Or a Truth I've Accidentally Discovered.

I had a conversation with myself while running on the treadmill the other day that was prodigious.  (That's just a big word for eye-opening. I liked the sound of it.)  It's not unusual for me to talk to myself while running or doing anything else in all honesty.  But I seem to have much more clarity in my thoughts when I am in the throws of running and this was one of those moments when I finally understood something that I'd been pondering for a good while.

Here's what I discovered:  I'm no good at people.

I like people and everything, or at least most people, but I'm not so good at understanding them.  I figured out that I expect others to have similar thought processes and intentions as I do.  I believe that people are simple and straightforward and don't play games.

I believe this and that's my problem.

But how come I can believe so easily?

And that's when I realized the answer to my question.  It's because of my relationship with Bill.  I was so young (and had not learned to be cynical and suspicious) when we met.  I never had to mess with typical relationship crap.  Oh sure, there were times of teenage drama.  And there were times before we were married that we dipped our toes into that back and forth stuff.  Gosh though, it was so small-scale and silly that I never "learned a lesson" about relationships from it.  I was never seriously hurt by any of it.  Consequently I carry no suitcase loaded with emotional baggage around with me.

Naive?  Possibly.  But more like simple, honest, and uncomplicated.

You see, Bill was my best friend.  When I first met him we would spend hours just talking.  And fishing.  Always fishing and talking.  Even after all the years and the kids and the rough parts of life that we experienced we could still spend hours talking.  He was my favorite person and I know I was his.  I would talk to him multiple times throughout every day.  He was the person I never hesitated to call to complain or celebrate or cry to.  Naturally this went both ways as I was always, always ready to hear what he wanted to say.  We had no ulterior motives or methods of manipulation in our intent.  Nope.  We just really liked each other.

And that is why I assume everyone else lives this way.

I am learning that most people have been hurt and betrayed by some person or situation and cannot let their guard down anymore.  Where there was once trust and openness has now been replaced with reservation and suspicion.  And often times I'm seeing that those betrayals cause us to adopt self-sabotaging behaviors too.  Maybe the hurt makes us feel like we're never going to be enough?  Or that we don't deserve something better?  Either way, we end up packing our bags with sadness and padding it all with a whole lot of self-preservation.

I'm not sure that there is a solution to this.  We all have to carry different bags filled with different burdens through the wanderings of our lives.  Some people get fancy, flashy bags that hold glittery problems while others get plastic Walmart bags filled with garbage.  Some carry veritable trunks filled with all different kinds of troubles, both big and small.  Personally, I like to think that the people who we find (or who find us!) are put on our paths to help us carry the load.  So maybe that is the solution:  we can only be relieved of our burdens when we trust another to share the weight.  Each time we relinquish an item from our bag our life becomes a little brighter, a bit less oppressive.

But to trust enough to allow such a thing, well....  that's a hard one to conquer.

Mowing the Lawn

Disclaimer:  This will be a depressing post filled with a fair amount of whining.  There could be some swearing too.  Just a little heads up for you more sensitive snowflake types.

I cry when I mow the lawn.

There.  I've admitted it.

This is not an occasional truth, for it happens every time I start up the mower.  It is, though, a rather recent phenomena.

I've been spending a fair bit of time pondering this development and I'm starting to grasp why a crying jag might accompany my yard work.  And as often as I mow the yard it's a damn good thing I'm getting it figured out!  There's still 3 more months of weekly mowing to consider and I think I could get dehydrated.

I used to like mowing the lawn.  It was a chore I could complete with little interference from any children and once it was finished no one could mess it up.  I liked the sense of accomplishment I felt when I finished.  It was a break from the regular house stuff I was always doing and a way to get outside and use a few muscles.  I really did enjoy it.

But now, now it feels like one more task that needs to be checked off my never-ending list.  It's an unwelcome burden now.  That, then, is the first reason I cry.  Mowing has become just another detail that I must attend to and I'm tired.  In my world the more tired I am the better the chance for emotional incident.

Another thing I used to like about mowing the lawn was how the monotonous nature of the task gave me ample time to think about life.  My life, Bill's life, the kids' lives, the neighbor's lives--you get the idea.  I would use the time to consider my options about any upcoming decisions I might need to make.  Or I would think about rearranging or redecorating a room (I was always having babies during this time so I was pretty much always in need of reconfiguring space!).  I even planned meals and vacations and running routes while I mowed.

To put it simply, I think when I mow.

Aha!  And now when I think, I think of crap.  What should've.  What could've.  How I need to.  These thoughts chase me around the yard like a pesky May fly, torturing me with their persistence and never letting me forget their presence.  So there's the next reason I cry--just thinking about how much my life has changed and how much I dislike it.

Now, before anyone starts lecturing me about needing to have a better attitude and, my all-time favorite, "getting over it"  let me tell you a few things.  And this might read offensively or harshly.  Yeah, but I don't care.  There is no getting over it.  Doesn't matter if I'm talking about my shit show life or your divorce or disappointment or job loss or death or illness.  Doesn't matter at all.  You never (and I do mean never) get over any of it.  You just assimilate.  You just figure out how to do the next thing.  You don't forget or "move on".  What the hell does that even mean anyway?  Move on to what?  Where?  Who?  You just get up and do the next thing.  Notice that I didn't mention anything about happiness or cheerfulness or gratitude.  Sure, I think those things probably come around eventually.  But it's mostly bullshit to expect anyone to follow a prescribed pattern of understanding exactly how to function after a traumatic upheaval in their life.  Is there a chart somewhere that I've not had access to?  Something like this:

Death:  16 months to get over it
Disease:  6 months  to get over it
Job Loss:  3 months to get over it
Divorce:  12 months to get over it

Time, people.  What everyone needs is time.  Plain and simple.

And your time is probably different than my time and neither one of us is wrong.  To judge a person on their walk through life is not only mean, it's also the worst example of arrogance.  Is one person so omniscient that they can command another how to "get over it" or when to "move on"?  Judging feels that way to me.

Circling back around, I do know that I won't always cry when I mow the lawn.  With time, it will just be another task that I complete.  I might even like it again.  I see it, albeit far away, but I do know it's waiting there for me somewhere down the road.  Until enough time passes I guess I'll just embrace the tears and feelings and let them do their thing.  God knows that ignoring them or pushing them away does not work.

Time.  It is the only healer.  It is also the only equalizer that captures us all eventually.

A List

I haven't done a list in a while.  Lists are kinda fun.  Here's a list of some interesting things I've learned or observed in the past while:

1.  Pigs really do fly.

2.  Audible books make car drives or housecleaning just fly by.  They do not, however, speed up treadmill time.  I think that treadmill time is lost time, like when you get abducted by bigfoot or aliens.

3.  Broken bones are a nuisance but definitely NOT a reason to stop doing things.  Like driving.  Or traveling.  Or working.

4.  Despite the feeling that this season will never end (both figuratively and really) the next season will always come.  But it cannot be rushed.

5.  Boundaries keep good things safe and bad things out.  Always set boundaries. With people, with gardens, at movie theaters.

6.  People who post too much stuff on social media are a) insecure as hell and looking for validation, b) playing a make believe game of grownup, c) searching for attention.  I suspect if you were really as happy as you'd like us to believe you wouldn't be posting every annoying detail of your life.

7.  There are many, many children who are masquerading as adults.

8.  Trying to recreate a lost or ruined opportunity is like trying to unbake bread.  It cannot be done.  You'll just end up with a soggy, inedible mess.  Move forward to the next good thing.  It might be a different thing but it might also be a better thing.

9.  Time is the great equalizer.  It cannot be fooled.

10.  If it looks like sh*t and smells like shi*t it's definitely still shi*t.  Try to dress it up and cover it up anyway you like but no one will really be fooled.

11.  People lie.  A lot.  People are also mean.  A lot.

12.  People are self-centered and will throw you under the bus without so much as a backwards glance.  They will use you and pretend you do not exist.  Learn from this and do not treat others the same way.

13.  Words are not always true, actions are often temporary, but patterns cannot be denied.  Think about that one for a while.