I have been MIA I know, but for good reason: I want you to meet my new friends.
Actually, they are old friends but now I know what they look like, and it’s all because of setting Intentions.
I skipped writing about intentions last year as I was apparently on the two-year plan with getting things done. Two-point-two-five year plan I guess, as it is now April. Time flies.
So hang with me here as I explain.
On the Anonymous Good Turn front, it’s still a lot of fun. Some deeds are not so anonymous but if those people pay them forward the world will just get better and heaven knows we need more people being a force for good.
Practicing Music at least 3 days a week: I manage it more often than not. Violin is continually surprising and I frequently feel like giving up but I can’t imagine living without it. It’s like the violin is…I don’t know…waiting for me to keep practicing until I unlock the secrets.
It is a patient instrument.
I had an “A-ha” moment last lesson where I finally felt my bow wrist move the way it is supposed to and my teacher saw it too and it was SO COOL!
I’m glad my teacher is patient, too.
Becoming more physically fit. This one has been and continues to be amazing. Between CrossFit Spark (CrossFit-ish), my local rec center and Eat To Perform, I have lost inches, pounds, body fat and gained muscle. Last month TWO people commented on how good I look and last night another person referred to my arms as “guns”!
Be still my heart.
Eat To Perform helped me sort out how many grams of protein, carbs and fats to eat and fits nicely with my paleo-ish omnivore self (but people who are vegan, vegetarian, whatever-arian follow ETP). Coming from chronic under-eating this has been a life-changer.
If, like me, you have tried almost every weight-loss plan out there and are frustrated, check out ETP. I am almost two years into it and am in my best shape since high school. The kids and I are a CrossFit/Eat To Perform family as Rebecca has signed on also, and likes the structure it provides. We meal prep her food for the week and enter it into her computer, then all she has to do is eat daily and do the dishes. Nifty.
I would like to say it made me run faster, but alas, no.
However, now I run the same distance then bust out some burpees, crush the assault bike (it is my favorite because it has a fan so you get air conditioning) and have enough energy left to kick butt and take names.
I LOVE being strong.
And now…drum roll…writing.
I FINISHED MY BOOK!
AND MY ILLUSTRATOR SAID I WAS GOOD ENOUGH TO DO MY OWN ILLUSTRATIONS!
YES, I AM YELLING!
And I will calm down now because it is annoying, but seriously, I am so stoked I can hardly stand it.
My illustrator said she would be my consultant and so we have this great email system where I draw, she critiques and I draw some more. I am in heaven and I want to call in sick to work every day and make art.
My mortgage company is not agreeable though so I fit it in where I can.
And now, without further ado, meet the girls: Sally, Nell, and their coop-mates playing bug keep-away.
I have learned a lot and will learn much more thanks to mentors who have appeared when I needed them. My 2017 intention is to self-publish this year. For reals.
Thank God this debacle is over.
The gutter brawl between the parties threatened to spill into my front room and had become so, so tiresome.
Now we know and I am not wasting any more energy on this election. There are people to be taken care of, runs to be run, tests to be taken, dogs to be petted and choices to be made.
We have the choice to be better or bitter. There is no staying the same.
We can choose to live with courage and heart here and now.
We can choose to be a source of calm and strength and honor in whatever happens next. For every person you see gloating or wringing their hands or just being a twit about this state of affairs, do something kind.
The people in Washington won’t notice, but our families and friends and neighbors will. That’s what makes these choices so much more important than the ones we made on November 8.
OK I just find this interesting. Some say I am easily entertained.
It is true.
However, the shellfish that live in the sea contain significant levels of the element.
You can get Vitamin D from sunlight.
Isn’t that curious?
Now you can wow people at dinner parties.
You’re welcome. 😉
Lately I seem to be surrounded by a fair number of people who have found happy romantic relationships the second, third, even fourth time around. Everywhere I look people are showing wedding photos, talking about just-the-two-of-us vacations and date nights, while I hang out with the two furry loves of my life, Gandalf and Pippin.
My phone is filled with photos of Pippin doing cat yoga and the three of us going for walks.
Not that I am bored or unhappy or want to start dating again, mind you. I didn’t like dating the first time around and am even less enthusiastic about it now. I have been almost asked out twice in the last couple of years and I basically hyperventilated and fled on each occasion.
Let’s just say I have trust issues.
So maybe it was also because Spring was in the air that I found myself in a Princess Bride state of mind, wondering: Is there really Twoo Wuv? Is there truly someone for everyone? And if so, how many frogs does one have to kiss, for Pete’s sake??
Whatever the reason, I was feeling a teensy bit sorry for myself and my moodiness increased as the day wore on. Night came and as nothing looks good when I’m tired we turned in: Pippin to his apartment on the patio, Gandalf to the cool tile floor and me to bed.
Ten hours later, it seems that all I needed was a good sleep. The cloud of pity from the day before had dissipated as I slept and I made plans for the day over coffee. Gandalf and I headed out for our morning walk and stepping through the front door I nearly threw a hip out attempting to avoid the tiny inert body on my door mat.
Dead mouse, courtesy of Pippin.
I stuck the landing (scored a 9.5), collected my chapstick and keys which had gone flying and stood there in the sun, overcome with wonder. Not at the mouse, but by what it represented.
Not just from Pippin, who was weaving around my legs and meowing with pride, or from Gandalf, waiting patiently.
But from...everywhere and everything.
I was not only loved, I was beloved, and I belonged in this house, this time, this life.
I was home, I was good, I was…keeping Gandalf and Pippin waiting.
Am I overly sentimental?
Am I one of the luckiest people in the world?
I was at work when the tragedy in France unfolded and did not understand why my friend was posting that she was “Charlie” (No…no, I am pretty sure you are Beryl….) until I read the news that night. I found it ironic to remember that while the shootings were going down in Paris, a Muslim woman and I were hugging as we celebrated her last chemotherapy; we had found much common ground in spite of dissimilar upbringings.
The magnitude of this horror sank in as the days wore on and Boston came to mind; neighborhoods on lockdown, police searching and innocent people dead and wounded. All in the name of the prophet of a Higher Power. Dear Lord. What is wrong with these people?
My heart broke after Boston and I did the only thing I could think of……I ran. After Charlie Hebdo I dragged out my Julia Child French Cookbook and I cooked. I made haricots verts and sent an email to the local French consulate, never expecting a reply but wanting to send some good out into a world where there are people who use the name of God as an excuse for their mean and rotten and hateful behavior:
Please know your country is in my thoughts and prayers. In honor of those involved I will make the small gesture of cooking something French today. Kind of silly but a way of holding the French in my heart.
Vive La France!
Imagine my surprise when I received this several days later:
Thank you for you prayers and wishes!
What you write is so moving and not silly at all.
Hate and murder and death make the news all the time; drama and heartbreak sell. While the bullets and bombs are real enough and we need to have situational awareness, it does not mean that when events shove us through the door of the house of fear and hate we have to unpack and live there.
Unplug the media when the re-hashing begins and come back to your reality. Take Mr. Rogers’ advice and look for the helpers. Run. Breathe. Paint. Cook. Write. Do something nice, no matter how small, for someone. None of this will make the news but sending beauty and good into the world is never wasted effort and warms your soul like a cozy fireplace.
2015 has dawned bright, clear and cold (a balmy minus 9 degrees). Snow covers the ground and yaktrax are in order when I take Gandalf out for walks, which are quite short in these temperatures. Pippin declines to go at all when it is below zero.
My long holiday season started in August, at the three year mark of being out on my own, and a lightness of being I hadn’t known in I-don’t-know-how-long settled around me. The fog of the last several years has lifted and I feel….I don’t even know how to describe this…..safe and content and alive and…..at home. And unspeakably grateful.
For the holidays this year my kids and I planned a vacation as Christmas; giving each other experiences instead of things to dust, and December found us traveling on the east coast. We raised our traditional toast of “Well, here we are!” at Becco’s in Manhattan and logged almost thirty seven FitBit miles in NYC and DC. Afterwards, making photo albums with Apple and Shutterfly for Michael and Rebecca was such a hoot that I am making one for myself. The best part was watching Rebecca open hers….it looked like a store-bought book and *surprise* there she was inside! And my boys were glad when I came home.
Christmas Eve followed soon after and Gandalf and I spent it at Rebecca’s with Twinkle in her traditional spot….under the bed. Santa delivered treats to her stocking and Christmas was saved again. We headed to Sarah, Jared and Michael’s house for Christmas night where I gave my electric train set to Michael. In between building an “epic” track system (which incorporated a Star Wars base) we looked at his photo book and talked about our trip; he is becoming a good traveler. Rebecca is a kitten harlot and their new kitties Smudge and Spooky were the beneficiaries of her devotion as well as a source of almost constant entertainment for all of us. Sarah reports they were practically comatose for twelve hours after we left.
Solstice intentions were not forgotten and the time seems right to set a major writing one that has been bumping around in my head the last two years.
2013: I intend to publish my book this year.
2014: I intend to get this new book version down on paper. I only got parts of it down on paper but I did find an illustrator!
2015: Press on with writing. My book, and……blogging, with the intent of reducing my hours at work to build my writing career. I think this is the year to do it. There. I said it out loud. *Takes deep breath* Whew.
2013: I intend to continue doing anonymous good turns; “pay it forward”.
2014: Keep it up. I must confess, this is a guilty pleasure. The most fun I had was having my snow removal guy plow 18″ of snow out of my neighbor’s driveway while they were out of town. They arrived home in the middle of a bitter cold night and didn’t have to shovel to get into their garage. (Cue the warm, fuzzy feeling. Delicious).
2015: Keep it up.
2013: I intend to practice my music at least 3 days a week.
2014: Play music as often and long as possible. I started violin/fiddle eleven months ago and have loved it; maybe in another year everyone else will too. I play bodhran and sing with my group and we put on some fun performances last year; our circle of musician friends is getting wider and we even made enough money to pay for gas to gigs. That is progress!
2015: Can’t wait to see what music this year brings!
My new little intention for 2015: Become more physically fit. I have been working out more consistently for a few months and the other day I actually caught a glimpse of my left deltoid when the light was just right. Woot Woot!
I have been writing this post on and off all day and it’s now dark. Gandalf and Pippin are sleeping at my feet and the first day of 2015 is in the books; time for me to hit the sack, too. To quote my friend Beryl: “So far, so good.”
I have spent a pretty big chunk of my life perfecting the art of being hard on myself. I swear, if self-criticizing was an Olympic sport I would always be on the podium (and it better be the gold!). While being very understanding of others (and excusing inexcusable behavior in some) I have a history of lingering way too long in bashing me over my own shortcomings. The last few years have brought an astounding revelation: there are people who recognize that tendency in me and use it to my disadvantage. This is an odd thing to know but since it keeps coming back, it is something that is apparently essential for me to recognize, and I think I “got it” this time.
We all have deep dark secrets and here is mine……I say unkind things when I am pushed, (and then I get called on it by the people who pushed me). I do pretty good with “is it true? Is it necessary?” Yes and yes. But when stretched to breaking I flounder, sometimes fairly spectacularly, on “is it kind?”. I stay over-long in situations that are no longer tenable and this pushes my buttons.
So….what is the Universe offering me here?
1. Recognize the feeling that a situation is not healthy and get out, emotionally until I can get out physically. I have a huge sense of obligation to protect others and throw myself into the breach, which often results in nothing really changing and I flame out to boot. It’s OK to say “No, that doesn’t work for me” instead of being the team player and screwing myself over. It’s OK for me to be my first priority and I can’t help those who think otherwise.
2. Keep my mouth closed when I am beyond frustrated by the metaphorical “being put in a round room and told to spit in the corner”. Just walk away. Writing this now the feeling of being trapped comes back; walk away. Stay away. Breathe. Keep myself safe. This is not selfish, it is sane; the oxygen mask.
3. Work on delivery. Another of my favorite sayings (I collect sayings like a groupie collects rock bands) is this: “Diplomacy is the art of telling someone to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip.” Word craft; a finely turned sentence puts me in mind of eating a perfectly ripe peach.
So I am walking away. I will make amends as appropriate (thank you, Al-Anon) and move on. I did my best and there’s always room for improvement and that’s the way it is. I am home with my “work family” now, in safe harbor and I am the luckiest person in the world.
I started this post in our typical un-spring-like spring; an entire season ago. Too much time has gone by and so here it is, a little disjointed, but that is kind of the way things have been lately.
Walls of water snuggled the tomatoes and squash through the snow and cold of early summer. I have this great little banana belt micro-climate up against the house that keeps the veggies protected from the frosts that we have well into June. Rain chains now help rainwater to the ground and I am sure they will be equally beautiful with snow and ice this winter.
Easter found me in church and during prayers of the people I heard myself forgiving my former spouse. This was followed immediately by the thought “and stay the hell away” so maybe it doesn’t really count. Ah, well.
Work has invaded every aspect of my life. Being flexible, learning on the fly and thinking two steps ahead are my forte and I feel like I have been living at the bottom of a Niagara Falls-like deluge of new information for the last two months. As if this wasn’t enough, the long-promised new institution-wide computer program finally went live and I began to feel like resistance was futile. I know this for sure: I want to be retired before another electronic medical record change like this comes about.
Gandalf and I put some miles on my new running shoes to let the over-worked problem-solving part of my brain take time off. Running reels (reals) me back in….the focus is on the moment; breathing, feeling my muscles power me forward, finding the cadence and zoning out. There is only the dog and me. And the bugs; nothing like inhaling a small insect to break your stride.
The answer of how to restore equilibrium to my life came one morning upon awakening and when I got to the clinic I asked my former manager if I could work for her again. We chatted, struck a deal and I gave my notice (two month’s worth) as there was much training to be done before I left. Tomorrow is my last day and although I will miss the good people I came to know and have I learned more than I thought possible (molecular biology at my age!), I am relieved to be going. And I am only going down the hall, it’s not like I am moving to Canada, eh?
The last time I was in my old/new department I was married; so much water under that bridge I had to burn it down. Gandalf and Pippin are great house partners and I spend a fair amount of time supporting Rebecca. William, Sarah and their families make me realize what a lucky momcat I am and I like flying solo. My last date was in 1976 and I almost got asked out about a month ago but when I said I was busy and happy and had a restraining order and a Glock he moved on. Hmmm….apparently I’ve lost my touch. Bummer.
So here I am on the eve of change again; three years ago Independence Day was marked by the realization that if I was to stay alive I had to free myself from the way things were in my marriage. This year it is merely moving to a different job and gifting myself with a week off to get my sea legs back. I tend to stay too long in situations that are no longer working; maybe with practice I will get better at maintaining balance.
Growing isn’t just for gardens.
Odd little word, “spry”, and I don’t care for it. I know it is supposed to be a good thing, but it sounds so…I don’t know….patronizing.
It was also the brand name of a Crisco-like product my Grandma used; would it make one’s baked goods remain spunky and delicious even when they got old? Makes you wonder about marketing think tanks, doesn’t it?
I bring this up because Gandalf has just turned ten, which we all know is seventy in human years. He bounds through the snow and anticipates every outing with the same good nature and energy he had when he was much younger. In actuality, I think he is in better shape than he was a few years back; we don’t go for walks; we do dog-trots with pauses for him to sniff and investigate and do dog things….I know I am getting a work out.
When I first moved out and Gandalf was my only companion it dawned on me that I didn’t know how long Norwegian Elkhounds lived and I googled frantically; surely I couldn’t lose him now, too?!
Whew…..average lifespan ten to twelve years; we were golden.
Time has flown and here we are; everything else is icing on the birthday cake……perhaps the main ingredient is spry.