pardon me

......while I realign, please.

Thank you. 

oops, i did it again

Remember das boot?

And the lesson I wanted to pass on to you?

Yea, I haven't quite learned it yet.

Yesterday, I sang the Brahms piece in both Sunday services for a remembrance of 9-11 on its tenth anniversary. Our little choir had worked very hard on it, and for some reason, the music just looked foreign during first service, even though we had just had a really good last rehearsal of it prior to that service. I wasn't the only one who had that experience. Our RE director (an alto) remarked between services that she had the same experience. In that conversation, she mentioned that it seemed the person who was supposed to lead the youth group during second service was not there yet. I replied, I'd be happy to go over there after we sang in the early part of the second service. The middle school leader was happy to get them started in the discussion, but had her own class to cover.

Second service's rendition of the Brahms went much much better. It was beautiful.

Then I trotted over to the other building, stopping at my van to switch from the cute new heels (first pair I've worn in ages because the ankle finally felt like I could for a few hours) into my everyday flipflops.

Funny enough, I did great in the heels. I owned those sassy little pointy burgundy fake alligators.

Well, I got all the way to the other building, across a lovely grassy field peppered with spiky horse chestnuts to discover that the scheduled youth leader was there after all. I made a cheerful speedy exit to head back and join Honey for one of his rare appearances, having brought the kids for second service while I was on choir duty since earlier in the morning.

Just as I stepped onto the grass from that little parking lot, my ankle collapsed under me. I dropped and rolled, purse flying, travel mug of tea arching in a totally different direction. I remember a thought process along the line of I better just go with this, because if I try to fight it, I'll re-injure the inside tendon.

I found myself lying in the grass, assessing damages and and realizing first, I was covered in yard scrap, there goes the outfit (I'm not much of a fashionista, but dang it, I'd put in some effort that morning), and then the pain kicked in. I had saved the tendon, but the entire rest of my foot was taking my breath away, briefly. Then I looked around for someone to laugh this off with, and discovered, not a single person had seen my stupendous pratfall. It was youtube worthy - an AFV winner.Then I wondered if I can or should get up and walk. Yes, I actually thought, I've fallen and I can't get up! I did get up, but maybe I shouldn't have.

The choir director and a smattering of choir members were chatting in the lobby as I hobbled back in the door. I confirmed, no one saw a thing. I went in to service, and joined Honey in the back row. Next thing I knew, choir director was leaning into the sanctuary to hand me an ice pack. He's also a kids' soccer coach, he knows about first aid.

Well, after service, we hung around for a bit, I chatted with another mom at the playground, who is also my belly dance teacher, and then we got into the two separate vehicles to head home. I did think briefly about having Mr. Cynic drive the van home, but he's not comfortable on the main roads yet. So I drove wincing all the way home, stopping and hopping for gas. Only Captain Comic joined me for the ride in Bertha.

I put my foot up when we got home and took some naproxen with the sandwich that Mr. Cynic made for me. A couple of hours later, bruising and inability to walk finally made me admit the need to go to Urgent Care, while Honey called me a wuss and Captain Comic slapped him upside the head for the name-calling. Note to self: quit joking like that with the literal kid.

After a few hours there with Honey, and two rounds of xrays, I walked out with a latex free wrap, latex free crutches, and having given my info and Mr. Cynic's to the xray tech because her son is a 16 year old drummer looking for a band, and mine is a bassist and songwriter whose band never gets together to rehearse. But they go to rival high schools, so we'll see what comes of that. I also walked out with orders to get back in das boot and see my podiatrist (the one who gave me the steroid shot back in June). Oh, and  diagnosis of spraining all the ligaments across my metatarsals and a possible break in the second metatarsal.

I twisted that ankle like a pro. I do it often enough. I broke the 5th metatarsal doing so in three inch Mia clogs back in 1980 in my high school's linoleum hall.

I think I just have to admit, that with all of the mayhem that is built into my life with three spread out kids, one with Asperger's, and my attempts to write, take care of myself, help others out, like being in rotation as a youth leader, being in choir, etc, that adding something on the fly, literally takes me down for the count, and beyond.

My appointment with the podiatrist is in a couple of hours. Thanks goodness he could squeeze me in. I hope he doesn't have the same results from spontaneity as I do.

distracted and frustrated

This post is kind of a way for me to work out hitting a wall in my manuscript. All I want is to finish it. In my heart, I still love it. But after so many edits, this edit is really a bore to do. In my house, two kids are gone for a month, including the most distracting one. In and around my house is a lot of neglected house stuff, largely due to my trying to focus on the manuscript.

When I try to write at home, even if I have my mother-in-law take the three year old out of the house for a couple of hours, invariably I putz around finding other things to do until, lo and behold, they return, and I haven’t even pulled the critiqued manuscripts out of my tote bag.  Like the day last week, when Toots decided waking up throwing up was the way to go that day rather than out of the house with Grandma. I sank her into the couch with Netflix streaming kid videos, and the next thing I knew, I found myself hacking branches in the yard in 100 degree heat, because that apparently was immensely preferable to actually finishing my novel.

And I had a good session on it the day before when I did my usual Tuesday routine of packing everything up and taking it to the library to edit. Okay, so the next day, off to the library I went, and knocked through two chapters in a fairly painless edit session.

As I write this, I look back over this very morning, noting that, yes, I had an early doctor appointment, from which I left a bit upset, mostly just burnt out on doing the specialist shuffle, so I gave myself permission to see another human being, I mean tea chat with a friend, and then another friend who is back in town visiting from far far away showed up, and finally I trotted myself off to the library. I couldn’t settle in as the place was teaming with people, and then the summer camps came tromping through in droves, so I turned right around, having never even opened the laptop.

Home again, Toots was getting a dose of the one program I don’t let her watch, which frustrated me, because I thought I was pretty clear about that to Grandma, but I didn’t make a stink about it. (Do we really need one more show for her to request immediately and often?) I preferred to focus and to attempt to write during and after lunch, Toots’s nap time, and when Grandma typically goes upstairs for a reading rest of her own.

Well, then I started getting ideas. My, isn’t it a lovely day out there, not a hundred degrees, now that we had a good thunderstorm last night. I know! I’ll go out to the picnic table around the side of the house that has a little privacy and an outlet! I got all set up and touched my black keyboard in the sun - youch! like a stove burner that has been left on.

Trot everything - drink, lunch, boiling laptop back inside, two trips - turn on the a/c in the office, and try to “white noise out” that Toots is not interested in napping at that time. Stare at my laptop screen and start typing this instead.

So what is my problem? Why am I having such difficulty with starting a single editing session? Any session for that matter? The excitement is inside me to Git ‘er Done!  Yet instead, here I am devising ways to rearrange the office so that I can work better, more comfortably, get more organized, etc. Frankly, I have rearranged the place a dozen times, and nothing seems to work, and that box of papers that grows and shrinks but never disappears is still in more or less the same spot - not in the file cabinet - it has sat for the past five years since we moved it to Virginia from Massachusetts. Don't ask me how many residences that thing has moved from or the decades involved, I implore you! It is my my little hoarder albatross. It's a smallish box, I swear.

I have little over a week before I retrieve the boys and my mayhem returns to its full tilt, after a camping trip with all the kids.  I have about twelve, albeit, short chapters to go, a bunch of query letters to write and send, and a writing group twiddling their thumbs to see this last draft before I send it out.

Maybe just putting it down where I can see it: twelve chapters in about as many days, is what I needed to do. I sure hope so. Once I get started, I’m good for at least a chapter a session, so now, I just need to do it. Hello five a.m. for the next week?   Any suggestions would be appreciated. 

mountain adventure

I arrived home with West Virginia mountain soil ground into my skin, everything smelling slightly musky and very smokey from rain and campfire and feeling more alive than I've felt in a long time. Hot, sore, soaked, dirty, smelly and utterly alive.

Honey and I have this little thing. When we're in sync about something, any little thing, we have kind of a slide-five, confirmation of everything right between us. We did that a lot more this trip than we have for a long time.

I had dreams, amazing dreams of people far away but near to my heart, as I slept with my head in a Civil War trench on a hilltop, in a damp tent, surrounded by RV city. One friend currently working, far from his family and friends, in Argentina. Others in a far off land...I think it's called Wisconsin. ;)

This is who I am. I am of the land, mountains, rivers, sea and sky and night fires. This is where I am happiest, most content, completely myself.

And I haven't been camping in over 20 years. Now, I know why I feel such discontent. It's not the suburbs. It's not my family circumstances, or other minute aggravations of the day in day out or the lack of writing time to myself.

It's that I haven't fed my soul the way it loves to be fed most in such a long long time. A lifetime. A roasted marshmallow soul under the moon and stars soul. A sun on my skin, rain on my hat, kid in a backpack on my back soul. A dog leash carabiner'ed to the backpack soul.

This is the seven year old Cathy, who when my family couldn't call me in from dinner so easily, my mother sent my brothers out to look up the nearest tree for me.

But I seem to be starting at the end here, rather than the beginning. and this is probably going to be a very long blog with lots of pictures. So maybe I will leave the end here, at the beginning, and give you the beginning to the end tomorrow, and maybe the day after, and again, after that.

I am happy, my family is safe. I love my spouse, and my daughter camped for the first time. Her favorite part was 'camping'. Parental translation: sleeping in the tent with Mommy and Daddy and Lucy.

"Can you see the real me, doctor, doctor?"

Honey and Toots at the confluence of the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers

I obviously need to do this more. The boys are coming next month.  Life is good, go for hike. Roast a marshmallow over an open fire, under the moon.

balance points

This week, between the kids' first week home from school and a gazillion doctor appointments - no worries, just getting updates on old stuff - I have not written or edited, seen only a couple of friends for thirty minutes, and the continuing hovering forecast of rain and wearing a boot have prevented trips to the neighborhood pool. We're all a bit stir crazy, one week into summer. And Grandma caught a bad cold and has been off of her usual exercise routine, too.

I think this week was an exercise in finding a routine amidst overall changes.

I have not watered the garden consistently, because it seems the rain will really pour, then not much happens. Then I think the rain will come overnight, and it really doesn't. And it's tougher to drag the hose around the yard with this dang boot.

Captain Comic wants to learn poker, badly, and I want to teach him. Poker was a big influence in my family life when I was a kid, I love playing cards, especially with my dad.We sure had some good Gin tournaments, mano a daughtero. But I know I need a good visual aid for Captain Comic to see all the levels of win, etc. Somehow I need the time and focus to teach him the multi-step processes of poker, when he is compromised in multi-step processing. It will take more than one session, that is for certain. Much frustration will have to be abated, on both parts.

Honey and I had a late night date at a combo pub cinema place last night for our fifth anniversary. We arrived a bit early for the showing of Bridesmaids, and sat at the bar. While we waited, I learned the difference between us and how that difference is a good thing. We were quiet for a moment, so I asked, "What would you like to see in the next five years?

Honey: What do you mean? I can't see into the future.
Me: What would you like to see. What do you want in life?
Honey: I don't know, I'm pretty good. A hot meal, a warm bed, a chance to relaxed a little more.
Me: Really? That's kind of nice.

See, I am always looking around the bend, aiming for something, having big dreams, wanting something, looking for the next adventure. In his way, Honey is content to just be.

At times, this can be a source of frustration for both of us, but I think, at other times, it works to both of our advantages that we come at the world and each other from different angles. I get him off of his butt for an adventure. While it may take a little initial effort, he always seems to appreciate it after the first push. Conversely, he gets me to stay in the moment and just chill and realize that not everything needs to be done right now, not everything needs to be planned or in constant motion. A little stillness is a good thing.

So we find our balance.

I need to find a way to fit writing into the week while the boys are home. I think I will manage that a little better next week, when I don't have so many appointments. Also, Grandma seems to be feeling a little better today and will likely get back to her morning exercises routine, away from the mayhem of home. I know how important her exercise routine is for her. She's better about keeping one than I am.

I have written a summer daily schedule and hung it up for Captain Comic to have a reference as to what this hour of the day is for. Poor guy kept floating around not knowing what to do with himself, leaving a wake of difficult relationships, snack scraps and random detritus until I did.

Toots needs a little more interaction than I've been giving her this week, while I've focused on my medical stuff and whatnot. There's been a bit too much PBS and Netflix children's program selections going on.  I think if the forecast perks up to the sunny side, we'll get to the pool more next week. This will be good for the Capt., too.

Mr. Cynic has been a big help this week, and found ways to hang with his friends and girlfriend. He's getting more and more independent, even if he is still hesitant on the learning to drive sessions.

And, even after all these years, Honey and I continue to learn each other, and how to negotiate what it is that simultaneously drew us to each other, and what drives us most crazy on a daily basis.

Ain't love grand?

It's summer. I think by now, all schools across the country are out for the season, the days are long on light and open hours. Don't forget to enjoy them for what they are, a chance to relax a little more...and maybe have a good adventure,or two.

anatomy of ankleland

Some of you may recall this story from about a year ago:

You can click the picture for a link if you haven't heard the tale, but about a year ago, I hurt my ankle pretty badly. I haven't really recovered. In fact, from favoring the initial ligature/tendon injury which was never properly diagnosed, I developed tarsal tunnel syndrome.

Click pic to read about it.

Then from not dealing with the tarsal tunnel syndrome, I developed tendonitis on the posterior blah blah, a tendon sheathe along a muscle that runs from the knee down behind the calf muscle, close to the tibia. I lost track when the doctor was talking yesterday as he gave me a cortisone injection for tarsal tunnel syndrome. I left the doctor's office and drove in circles (yes folks, it is my driving ankle) to find the place where I was supposed to pick up a boot to wear for the next month, and found it just time for it to be closed, thanks to it's lack of signage. By the time I got home, my foot was on fire up to my knee, and felt dead and asleep, like it was trying to wake up, but never did except partially sometime around five o'clock this morning. Needless to say, it was a sleepless night.  Before I went to bed, I asked a medical friend if my foot/ankle/leg should still feel like this several hours after injection, and she replied that it sounds like I had a classic steroid flare. Yay me and my weird anatomy.

So this morning, I got to drive all the way back across Newport News to find this boot place again and now my fashion statement is this:

May I pass this lesson onto you?

Listen to your body when it is giving you clear signals to see a doctor and take care of yourself, for goodness sake, because if you don't put yourself high 'on the list', this is the sort of thing that can happen to you.

Ironically, in the waiting room, my reading was Hot (Sweaty) Mamas, by Kara Douglas Thom and Laurie Lethert Kocanda, an enthusiastic book about making personal fitness a priority in your hectic life as a mother.

I neglected to mention previously that this book was a win from Kate Hopper's blog, Mother Words:Mothers Who Write. I am incredibly grateful, Kate, thank you. Once I can get back on both feet, I am so on this!

In fact, even before I am back on both feet, I am starting a belly dancing class next Monday. :)

slow down

Is that even possible?

At the moment it doesn't seem so.

Case in point: in the midst of this completely overscheduled weekend (is that three in a row? more, less? I can't even conceive of my past few weeks at the moment), I showed up at a housewarming. My friend whose new home we were warming, took one look at me and laughed in that Aw, are you okay, you look pathetic way. Then I walked into the house and saw a couple of other friends. One took one look at me, threw her arms around me and said, "Are you okay? What happened?!"

I turned to everyone and said, "I made it here, but if I don't go home now and lie down, I won't make it through the rest of the weekend."

Okay, moms who have given birth, especially naturally, you know that point you reach when you've been in labor for hours and you know you don't have it in you to push that one more time, but then the urge comes, and you feel like dying would be so much easier than to do that one more push and you're too tired even to cry, though you feel like that's all you want to do, and you can feel yourself slipping practically into unconsciousness?

That's how tired (minus the painful labor) I felt standing in my friends new home, surrounded by caring women. Thank goodness. They got it and said, It's okay, go home and rest. Hugs, and I was gone. I pseudo napped for a couple of hours with Mr. Cynic on the opposite sofa, old Twilight Zone episodes - funny, huh? - in front of us. And then the rest of the family came home and it was time to go go go to the next events of the evening, and I'll tell you more about everything as soon as I have really recouped and can find pictures, etc. For now, I need to get ready to go to the dentist. again. Wish me luck.

gardening love

I love to garden. I didn't say I was good at it, but I love it. Sometimes I am orderly and plan ahead well, other times I get ideas. Yesterday involved a bit of both.

First, I have been neglecting the front flower patch's needs for a while and second, I really needed to redo the driveway pots. Captain Comic has picked all the leaves off of two sets of small evergreens, first juniper, then vertical japanese boxwoods. Some of the storms we've had did the final damages. We have flower pots with something tall in them so Grandma and I can navigate around the brick borders of the 'bridge' over the culvert. We can't see them from our five foot two and three perspectives as we back out of the driveway.

Before: if you look way in back you can make out what I am replacing.

These are the pots, new plants,some homemade humus in the wheel barrow

 and some good potting soil with food.

After: left side of driveway, five leaf Akiba.

After: right side of driveway, Carolina Jasmine.

I planted white Star Jasmine which grows on my fence near the wisteria in my backyard a few years ago.

Yes, the brickwork is broken, no I didn't do it.

 It was like that when we moved in. 

One of these days...when I get a Round To-It.

Anyone remember that old 70s truck stop souvenir? Tap-Tap?

I liked the little bird trellises at Lowe's garden center, and they were the cheapest thing that wasn't plastic and still fit my idea for replacing the evergreen skeletons.

Self-portrait of a gardener

I looked down at one point during mulching and discovered I was covered in dirt from head to toe.

Life is good. Go plant something and watch it grow. 

easter aftermath

Have you ever tried to get three families' worth of kids of varying ages to pose together for a holiday shot? This was one of a handful of choices, all fell into the category of close enough. My favorite high school English teacher always said,"that only works in horseshoes and hand grenades," but I believe it's apt for group shots, too. 

We gathered at friends' new home, seriously, they moved in Saturday, and we tried to help but showed up a bit late because it took me that long to empty and clean out my van. So I showed up in a dress with all of my kids and Honey, on Easter morning, and promptly decided I would move their bookcases into a different room. We were there for an Easter egg hunt. 

To back up a bit, we had a weekend full of family, my in-laws galore, not just the ones down the street, we hosted visiting aunt and uncle. Also in Grandma's generation, was a vacationing cousin and all of his nine teenage granddaughters, his daughter, and his wife who were staying in Virginia Beach. So when I joke about the in-law invasion, there's a bit of truth to it, at least in sheer numbers. Thankfully, I was lucky enough not to get the full dose of the nine teenage granddaughters. I managed to only meet two. I can't say the same for Grandma and Toots who got a full dose with a botched and whiny trip to Busch Gardens and Colonial Williamsburg. It'll remain in family lore for generations, I am sure. 

There was also a 50th birthday party for a friend this weekend, which was packed with cake and pies and Easter breads and a potluck, maybe two. I've lost count. And of course Easter baskets galore. I hopped on the scale this morning - hopped is a loose term, it was more of a floorboards creaked trepidacious step - and I have gained five pounds this weekend - even with helping with the move!

Toots love her twirly dress and enjoyed modeling it. Pardon the blur, I wasn't awake yet. I don't think the camera was either.

A lot of sugar was eaten, and not much else especially by a couple of my kids who would have done better to get some more protein and veggies in them over the weekend, and maybe a bit less candy and pies. There was some major sugar fallout this morning. Not that I should say anything, see confession above about gaining five pounds. 

But a weekend full of friends, family, food, fun and sunshine is worth a five pound gain. 

It occurs to me that with the amount of cookie posts, etc., I should have a food tag, shouldn't I? Someday, I'll backtrack and find all the baking and cooking posts and add them to it, but the food tag starts now. :)

I regret I did not get a pie picture. Grandma and her sisters really outdid themselves with the Easter pies this year, and I believe that is mostly to blame for culinary lapse of reason. Auntie B's homemade lasagna may have had a smidge to do with it, too. And the vat of pasta a fagioli I made Friday night, and, and, and......peeps for one. 

Time to get back into an new exercise routine....

ugh

1.  I want to edit the manuscript.

2. I am still working on the upstairs room switch. My room is the worst mess right now, especially my little worship space which needs to move out of a dusty cramped corner and to where Toots's crib was.

3. I am so exhausted I can cry at the drop of thought.

4. I have the second of many dental appointments to come today, because I did not go for years.

5. It is a sunny beautiful day and I need to do something about this:

I have an issue in my lavender. I have bulbs that would like to bloom there. I have wild flowers taking over the driveway edge.

I think I will opt for garden gloves, spade and vitamin D absorption right after I finish this egg.

It is the Ides of March and the forboding I feel is not exactly on par with Ceasar's, but close. I feel like there is not enough time or energy for all that I want to accomplish.  But I'll be fine, eventually.

And when Toots comes home from preschool, she wants another game of marble run in her new room that is "mine so stay out, [Captain Comic]!"

To be fair, the three of us really enjoyed a marble game yesterday. But boy, am I going to be in trouble when she's a teen, right?

non-sequitur boy

After my phase one dental trauma this morning, I really wanted a treat to take the kids out for a treat.

Did you know it's Starbucks 40th birthday?  They are giving out treats on Thurs, Fri and Sat afternoons this week with purchase of a drink.  So I took the kids.  I really don't take them out for things like that enough.

Captain Comic usually tosses out some good non-sequiturs any old time, but he was in rare form today.

Piece of convo in the car on the way to treat:

Mr. Cynic: But mom, Frappucinos are so sweet they make me want to throw up, except the bottled ones.
Captain Comic (from the wayback in the minivan): Did you know that one milligram of antimatter costs three hundred billion dollars?


Captain Comic and I were walking through Starbucks to get some milk to cool off his hot chocolate. A man in a black trench coat and tie stood waiting for his drink to be made.

Captain Comic (mutters without eye contact as he walked past): Nice suit.
Man (looks around): Oh, thanks. It's really more of a sport coat.
Captain Comic (having already moved on): What's half and half?  Why is it called half and half? What is it half and half of?

Back in the van, KT Tunstall disc comes on.

Captain Comic: IS THAT LADY GAGA?!
Mom (bursts out laughing): I love you!
Mr. Cynic: OHMIGAWD! You are FAIL!
Capt. Comic: Why am I fail?
Mom and Mr. Cynic in unison: Because that's KT Tunstall!
Mr. Cynic: and if you FOLLOWED the MUSIC Industry AT ALL, you would know the difference IMMEDIATELY.

Aside:
Mr. Cynic: Mom, if you EVER get a Lady Gaga CD, I will have to slap you in the head with it.

Toots (listens quietly to the many exchanges, briefly pulls her two sucky fingers out of her mouth): CannI hab a sip uff yer toffee?
Mom: Sure. (it's decaf - hands it back to her in the middle row)
Toots: slurp noise
Mom: Is it good?
Toots: It's dee-wicious! (passes coffee back up and promptly returns sucky fingers to their original position.)

New song starts

Captain Comic: Is THAT Lady Gaga?!
Mom (bursts out laughing)
Mr. Cynic: OMIGAWD! FAIL!
Mom and Mr. Cynic: It's KT Tunstall!
Captain Comic: Oh riiiiiight. Mom?
Mom: What?
Capt. Comic: Do you laugh so much because I'm so random?
Mom: Absolutely. You are the most random person I know.  (chuckles)
Capt. Comic laughs with pride.
Toots: Ahre we ahmost home yet?  I want my juice.

rebirth

Duck, NC 1.14.2011

This time of year is so odd. For most of the Northern Hemisphere, and certainly for my own forty years lived in New England constitution, the world lies most fallow, yet there are hints of the promise of spring. The renewal of the land.

In Ireland, it is the celebration of the birthing of the lambs, the burgeoning of dairy abundance, the harrowing of the fields. St. Brigid's Day celebrates the creative fire that burns within all of us of poetry, childbirth and craftsmanship, esp of iron.

Chinese New Year is now, the time of the seedlings underground, and the promise of abundance crops. The sun is returning, and so the fire within burns a little brighter.

Now, when winter can be so brutal, we find signs in a random clear bright day that assures the sun has not forsaken us after all.

Here, in this most wintery winter since I've lived in Virginia, last week I saw robins flocking in the trees. A raven cackled at me from high up in a tree whose branches were tipped in buds. Some of my gardening friends reported daffodil sightings. Mine have not made an appearance.

This weekend I went out to a handful of events, obviously overscheduled. I missed spending time with my family, I missed the rarity of hours spent with Honey. But I took time to pay attention to myself at two different meditations, and to have fun with friends. 

I wore myself out, also because once again Honey and I squeezed in a Home Depot date on Saturday afternoon, too. But I needed to take time to find my focus again and these meditations really worked.  I found my personal strength and was reminded that my personal strength isn't only for giving away to everyone else.  I need to keep some reserves for myself in order to focus well on my writing and finish the manuscript.

I went through a period toward the end of 2010, in which I started taking better care of myself physically, but let it drop off again, various reasons, the main being that I am allergic to the first gym altogether. Then in joining the local Y, I found I was allergic to their workout room and their yoga classes were inconveniently scheduled during my precious writing time. And then it was too cold to consider waking up before dawn to go swim laps and freeze in the winter morning air with wet hair.

But now, it is beginning to warm up.  I ache all over again when I wake up in the morning, and all day long. This ache will never completely go away, I have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, and I am aging.  I have a significant lack of collagen to take care of my muscles, even less now that I age. I am more prone to muscle injuries and not so great in the healing department. But when I take the time to exercise, whether I do laps in the pool, or walking around the neighborhood, it makes a huge difference. Not just in my muscles and posture, but in my mental and spiritual wellbeing.

The meditations and the game night Saturday with friends I rarely see, took me out of my daily rut and into my interior to wake up my creativity and sense of purpose.

Honey and I have planned and he started some spring household projects - mended the porch rail himself while I was out and about yesterday. And he did the taxes, which will net us a much needed return. For this, I thank him. He's my guy.

We're going to build some storage solutions and a partition in Mr. Cynic's room in order to move the boys in together, and move Toots into currently Captain Comic's room. I'm going to milk paint some antique twin head and footboards for Toots, and sew new curtains for both rooms.

Honey and I agree it's definitely time to move our little miss nearly three year old out of our room.  That decision has definitely begun a sense of renewal for our relationship.

So you can see, not just this weekend, but leading up to it, I've been doing some harrowing of the fields of all the acreage of my life.

1. In writing, I am rewriting for the third time, my little novel with the purpose in mind to send it out come spring.

2. Shifting around and taking care of the house -

3. will also take care of Honey and my relationship.

4. The changing of the season is renewing my health needs, mentally, physically and spiritually, not just so I can take care of others and contribute more for their wellbeing - mainly I mean the kids, but that in taking care of my personal strength, I will be giving myself the gift of self-respect and confidence to be who I really am and accomplish what I set out to do. All of it, with a clear head.

Is any one else finding themselves in this place of assessment and focus on change for a better life?

clean desk

When I finally felt better, and had the house to myself for Tuesday morning, I was going to write, but I did this instead:

There's no before picture, I didn't think about showing that to the world at large. I should try to describe the sea of papers and household effluvia from blocks and legos to totally random single playing card - queen of spades, I decided to keep her because of this. I figured I needed a reminder from time to time that I am one of those women.

Anyway, the mess was taller than the tape dispenser on one side and where the name book is standing up, it was about half way up the hard drive - a completely nonsensical pile that went all the way back to last spring, with a class autograph book from Captain Comic's elementary school.  The pile buried the adding machine, half the lamp stand and ramped down toward the keyboard.  Things slipped off and into my mouse constantly. Yes, I keep my mouse on the left side. I am lefthanded. It works better this way.

See all that brown surface? Nonexistent.

So now I can spread out my manuscript critique copies to the right and work on them, I hope. Minus continual interruptions...

On another note - at the writing retreat, one friend and I decided to meet every Tuesday morning to write. I was in a brain fog, sick as I was when we discussed it, and forgot that this first Tuesday was out because she had another meeting. I think that's how I managed to clean my desk instead, I had allotted the time to writing elsewhere.

So because I was home when I expected to be out, I didn't quite know how to start here instead, then the mess just made me crazy. There was no where to put my stuff with all the kid crap and junkmail, etc all over.

I think that says a lot about how I am present in my life. Even when I say, "No more crap on my desk!" It happens anyway.

Even when I say, "No this is MY time!" I do for other anyway.

Cleaning my desk was a good reminder to take care of my own priority, too.

No wonder it has taken so long to write this dang book!

white out

Predawn, of course. I do love that boy.

Christmas was a blur of a whirlwind. My parents were going to leave yesterday morning to head back to Connecticut from our little Southern Virginia corner, but Mother Nature had other plans.

A little later in the day.

Toots lifted it out a little, it was actually at the red foot marker when I stuck the measuring tape in for her to hold steady.

Our shed at the 15 inch mark on the roof.  We discovered that sometime in the past few years that we've lived here, the snow shovel was moved out to the shed from the garage. Because we never needed to use it on the driveway. I trekked across the yard to rake the snow from in front of the shed door to retrieve the snow shovel.  Something is wrong with that picture - I used the rake to dig snow to reach the snow shovel.

This is the beginnings of clearing off four cars. Snow is taller than the broom head.

This is my parents' car yesterday afternoon.  Grounded. They are driving Mr. Cynic and Captain Comic to visit their father up North.  The boys were so disappointed to not leave.  But they head out shortly. Packing the car now. I know, I sent Honey out there.  Look, I started the driveway and car clearing yesterday and my fingers paid a hefty frostbite price because I do not have good weather gear anymore, because I live in the South. But I had fun, I love this stuff, even if my circulation doesn't.

That's right, I said it, I love shovelling out the cars. I may be alone in my joy, but it's mine.

So, yesterday afternoon and evening we played games and looked at old family pics my cousins posted on Facebook. My mother was cracking up at all the old memories. 

1974, My mom is the babe front row right in the serious navy and red print polyester, next to their mother, with all her siblings. Her brother behind her, and her sister in red to the left are the only ones still living besides the baby, my mom. That sweet little grandmother in the front next to mom gave birth to everyone else in that picture, starting with the twins in back.  She also rather raised quite a few of her 26 grandchildren.  She was da bomb. I miss them all.  Daily.  We sure had a lot of fun together at family gatherings coming up.  We lived the farthest away, so saw them maybe once or twice a year for about a week or two.  But boy, that was a crowded, boisterous house full of fun, food, love and family.

I walloped my mother and mother-in-law in Scrabble, and they conspired against me in Apples to Apples later.  They both usually kill me in Scrabble. It was payback.  But we had lots of fun. Even Honey and Papa played Apples to Apples, and Capt. Comic for as long as he lasted, which was pretty long for him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, they are on the road now.  I forced a kiss on Capt. Comic's cheek while he sat in the car. "URGH!  You know when you kiss me, Mom, I imagine the microbial bacteria multiplying right away and I have to wipe it off immediately!" 

If only he felt the same way about showering and brushing his teeth....

So the house is quiet.  Maybe tomorrow when everything in town opens again, I'll be able to start cranking on my ending edits and get my manuscript out to my writing group.  Grandma said she would take Toots out with her in the morning on her usual exercise excursion.  Time to get back to the routines now the gluttony time has passed!  Oh yea, I should do that, too....

opera girl

girl:

I have at various points in my life been a fashionista.  Not a generally known fact and not one I am prepared to admit readily.

If it's brought up, I usually prefer to mention my past as a thrift store junkie peacepunk cross between Deadhead, punk, and vaguely Audrey Heburn styling moments. In my clubbing days I had an awesome green with gold brocade jacket that would have fit Prince. Literally and figuratively.  Oh, and there was that one antique black lace over red satin 50s type number that usually ended up being used at Halloween for a flamenco dancer...

Not so much these days.  But last night I went to the Opera.  My current wardrobe consists of worn out jeans and go to stretched out comfy t-shirts covered in stains of 15 years' worth of parenting.

And then I remembered I picked up one Calvin Klein black dress several months ago at Ross.  Serious rack dig moment.  I am not a good shopper.  I am very picky, it's tough to find anything that fits me, and I can always find fault with whatever I try on, so I walk out empty handed if I walk into a store at all.  Mirrors and I have a difficult relationship at best. Especially since I still, on some level, expect to see a 95lb stick staring back out at me.  But I have had three kids and a lot of life since those days. Women's bodies change.  I like the curves I have now, but they aren't always exactly where I think they should be. The good part is a lifetime of chipmunk cheeks has finally left town.

I put on make up, wow!  I got dressed, including textured tights and heels I couldn't walk in.  I had Mr. Cynic take the pic above for proof.  Hence, the shoes are cut out, but that's okay.  The necklace and earrings are by Kelly Warren of Happy Shack Designs.  Go to her blog, she has the best attitude.  Then go to her Etsy shops, because her jewelry is gorgeous and fun and her photos are as bright and layered as she is.  Go ahead, I'll wait. 

Good, now go start dropping holiday hints to spouses, etc.

And back to me.  Bottom line:  I cleaned up quite nicely, and besides the shoes, it felt good to spruce up for a change.  Every woman, mother, etc, needs to feel pretty now and then.  I suggest it  periodically even if you don't have an event to go to.  It just feels good.  Now remind me I said this a few months down the line when I have a sucky winterized attitude.

opera:

I had the opportunity to go see the Virgina Opera perform Mozart's Comedy Cosi Fan Tutti at Harrison Opera House in Norfolk, with Honey's young cousin because no one else in the family wanted to go!  I leapt on it.  Live Mozart?!  Are you kidding?!  Pick me!

It was also her 19th birthday, and it was sweet to spend with her and talk about how things are different now than when I was 19 (ie drinking age changes, etc).  She also just got her motorcycle license the same day!  So she was excited about that, too.  But the cutest was when we finally arrived at the opera house - after a comical circuitous route which involved counting stoplights a la The Count of Sesame Street fame - we found ourselves in the balcony elevator with obvious lifer opera fans and she threw out that this was her first opera.  The sweet elderly couple told her what fun this one was and that she would likely enjoy it a lot.  And she did! 

And so did I.  The sets were gorgeous and simple, although there was a funny malfunction of a venetian blind.  The voices were beautiful, as were the costumes which had another malfunction. 

Mozart's treatment of the rather silly libretto is stunningly gorgeous, and though what they were singing at times was rather bawdy, in Italian, it might as well have been singing to the divine.  Mozart couldn't write a bad note if he tried.  It would still be fun.

So, if you haven't ever tried it, I highly recommend going to an opera.  I hadn't been in years, and loved it even more than I remembered!  Life is about the experiences we share, and sometimes going out to a live performance takes us out of ourselves for a couple of hours, and reminds us to laugh and love in community. Because that's the best kind.  Art is good! 

crawling under a rock

I usually have a pretty good attitude, even when I'm grumbling.

Today I feel like crawling under a rock and staying there for a while.  Possibly setting up house.

I had a terrible allergy attack yesterday, still trying to breathe today and trying not to take more meds for it so I can sleep tonight.  I have also had many in the past couple of weeks, more than I've had in the past 6 years.

I have an IEP meeting at Captain Comic's middle school tomorrow, and I feel like I have conflicting communications from them.  I get calls from teachers about problem areas, and I email with his case manager about her concerns as well as his teachers. Then when I put it in official language what he needs in place as to accommodate him, she backs off and says he is doing wonderfully, and they are accommodating.  When I reinforce that he needs a paraeducator in every class and with specifics details re: the para's function to address the concerns that are brought to my attention by them, she backs off again and says he's doing fine.

When my conversations with his case manager are not in an official documented capacity, she swears she is, and asks me to trust that she is really advocating for him.  As soon as anything looks official, suddenly I am a pita parent asking for too much, when I'm only asking for what has always worked for him.  When it's not in place, we get what we are seeing now, and it will only continue to get worse until he has the support he needs in place. 

I'm not asking for anything for him, that I have not provided myself for higher functioning students than he is.  I provided classroom support and learning center support to students at the high school level.  He is in 6th grade, and I am only asking for classroom support. I am telling them exactly what works for him.  It's four points of support.  Nothing extreme.  It's less than I have provided for other students twice his grade level, who were more capable of self directed coping skills. 

I have worked in classroom support in a 5th and 6th grade classroom with a student who presented extremely similar to Captain Comic in his needs to function successfully.  There is no way, no matter how wonderful the teacher I worked with was, and how aware she was, that he was not going to miss instruction, assignments, understanding of material, if I did not keep an eye on where he was, what he was focussing on and if it was relevant to the task at hand.  I checked on his understanding of the material regularly.  And this is all I am asking for Captain Comic.

He is not going to fit a neat box of the types of supports they have for more remedial students.  He is extremely intelligent is some ways, placing him in higher academic classes.  If he were in remedial ed, there would naturally be para support in every class.  But he is not, so only receives it in certain classes.

He's twelve.  He just started at a new school, with a new schedule, new team, new teachers, new everything, and he is lost at sea.  Because of this, he is struggling at home, too.  It's tough on all of us, and I feel I have to translate what's going on for him, and how to deal with it for everyone.  He feels like everyone at home is on his case, and in a way, we are.  But we're only trying to help him. 

I'm exhausted and I just want to breathe.  But really, I want to clean house, go adventuring, love everyone a little more.  It's been a tough week.  Thanks for listening while I try to work out some of this outside my head.

creaky

I did 3 90 minute yoga classes this week.  I also had 2 1 hour weights sessions with a personal trainer. 3 sessions came free with the membership, and I did the first last week.

I entered this regimen in the worst shape of my entire life.

I ache in places I had forgotten about.  I really enjoyed the Hatha yoga classes I had been attending for a couple of weeks.  And then I walked into a Power yoga class this morning, dragging Honey in with me.  He could barely lift his sandwich at dinner tonight.  I could barely do half of the yoga poses today.  He powered through them. 

"Is this the first yoga class you've taken, Hon?"

"I can honestly say it's not the first." 

His tone suggested to me it might have been the second.  And the first was likely over a decade ago.  The man has trained heavily in Martial Arts, sort of taught me some Tai Chi, has been working the weights for a couple of weeks since we joined the gym together.  But Yoga?  Not really his go to workout.

He went in skeptical of what it would actually do.  He left saying, "That was not wussy yoga!"  (I censored slightly)

It clearly wasn't.  My ankle and back are telling me so now.  We also got quite sweaty.

In my last of three training sessions with my personal trainer on Thursday, we were working abs a bunch, and my bad shoulder, among other things, and I kept laughing at myself for how weak I was when I tried to do almost anything and we had to drop weight. 

She was a great and gentle-on-me trainer, taking into consideration my surgery earlier this year, my old back and shoulder issues, and my most recent ankle injury.  But told me in her lovely Argentine accent,  "Stope laughing!  Be seriooz!" 

I mean it was funny, I was on the lowest weight settings for ab machines and shoulder/upper back machines, and the thing wouldn't move!

I tried to tell her I was taking this very seriously, I just felt really pathetic and self-conscious at how low my strength had become. It was laugh or cry, so I opted for laugh. Other than that last little scold, she and I did have a lot of fun training together.  I wish I could pay for more sessions with her, but I left with a good training sheet to start two separate workout regimens with weights.  Maybe down the line, I can get some more sessions with her when it's time to change things up.

I never thought I'd be working out in a gym.  I love walking outside, going for hikes, riding real bikes through scenery, but I need to get on target with taking care of myself now.  I'm not getting any younger, and If I don't start taking good care of mysef again now, I will not have a fun aging process into my later years, and likely not many of them.

So, the workouts are tough, but I'm going to stick with it.  I already feel more mentally alert.  And that's half the battle.  If I feel alert, I will easily want to do more. 

It's working already.  And you know what else?

It's actually fun.

obsessions

I have 2 new ones:

1. My new gym's yoga classes. 

2. This fabric site for quilting: Spoonflower.com

Help me, please.  Is there a Quilters Anonymous?  or Yoga Anonymous? 

I may need them.

Soon....

new leaf

I tend to start new things in September, with the start of the school year. Always have.

This weekend, Honey and I joined a gym.  It's a struggle to fit it into our already stretched budget, but we both recognize if we don't prioritize our health and wellbeing, everything else falls apart, too.

Honestly, at this point after the myriad health issues I've had for the past few years in order to bring Toots into our lives, I'm so back at square one physically that I really don't have the stamina or physical capability to work at a job on a regular basis. I need help getting back into a normal gear.

We found a gym that has personal trainers who are also Physical Therapists.  I signed up for one of them to start me off gently and consider all my weaknesses, both generalized weakness and specifics from my back issues, surgery healing and my torn ankle tendon that is resisting healing.

Wish us luck!  My PT health assessment appointment is tomorrow morning.  Today, I am going to go to the morning Gentle Hatha Yoga class for a kickstart.   Let's see if I fall over in Warrior Pose, like I did at home last week....

My objectives with gym membership:
1. strengthen and build endurance
2. lose 15 pounds
3. reshape body parts and put some back where they belong - or  a close approximation to their past positions.

Honey is looking to lose weight and feel more on top of his physical wellbeing.  We both know we have let things go way too far while we were trying to take care of everything, everyone else. For Honey, that included me a lot, too. 

Thanks, Hon, I really appreciate all you did and still do.

Addendum:  Back from yoga class.  Great class, but I must say my ankle is the worse for wear after that.  I tried very hard to not wonk it, but it is highly wonkable at this point. 

happy shack

Kelly Warren at The Happy Shack and I have become friends over the past couple of years because of an introduction over at  Studio Mothers.  We shared our woes and triumphs in the great balancing act that is maintaining creativity while devoting our lives to our families' wellbeing, however that manifests.

We arrived at the conclusion that we are twins who were separated at birth.  We're both somewhat goofy, not afraid of embarrassing ourselves, rather clutzy, dimpled Capricorns with a mix of reticent perfectionism and go for it spunk.  She is the much taller and more energetic twin.  I'm the more reticent one.  Reading about her work in Student Life at a college, her go get 'em enthusiasm for her jewery making and selling, mothering her twin redheads and growing menagerie, and blogging, I boggle continually at what she accomplishes every day. And she organizes creative retreats! All this while battling periods of severe vertigo.  She's a fine art photographer and master collager, too!  Oh, and she just happens to live in a colorful house that sits at water's edge where she can sit back in her dock chairs and watch the sun set over the water.

I've been admiring her jewelry for ages.  Then she blogged about making this necklace:

I had to have it.  It spoke to my ocean, beach loving soul.

So I bought it and asked if she could conjure up a pair of matching earrings, and she did!!!
They arrived on Thursday with a polishing cloth to boot, all wrapped up in purple tissue paper with a little bow. It was truly a gift.

Thanks, I love them, Kelly!

Having the above necklace in hand, really made me admire the craftsmanship of her work. It looks quite delicate, but it is rather sturdy. I don't need to worry about Toots pulling on it or one of my own brilliant maneuvers that have destroyed countless other pieces.

Please, go check out her Etsy shop!  Don't forget to peek at Kelly's fun colorful photos, too.  I love her rusty old car series.  And this one:

Isn't it dreamy?  Don't you want a nice matted copy of it on your wall so that you may dream escapes to other worlds around that bend?