Have to give a little shout out to dads today. I think moms generally may say they don't get enough appreciation, but really, I often think they do. Dads on the other hand...and I mean real dads...dads that take the time, dads that talk the talk and walk the walk, dads that go out sledding with their little girls at 5:22 at night after date day with their wife, yeah, they deserve a shout out now and then. My dad was, and still is, one of those dads.

Dad was a hard working dad of the 70's don't get me wrong. And my mom did not work outside the home, so he had late hours, and power plant breakdowns, and overhaul, and business trips that took him away, but for the most part, my dad was there. 5:30 home, dinner together, weekends of tagging along, doing errands at the dump and the hardware stores, showing up at swim meets, videotaping musical performances. My dad was 100% there for me, and still is.

We had a bit of a stressful "Christmas Break." Tim was VERY sick right in the thick of it. So much so that he had to go to Urgent Care ON Christmas day. Still, Christmas goes on, and as much as my parents might have wanted to say no to coming to our germ infested home, they came. I mean in part they came for the kids, for sure, but dad hugging me and letting me cry for a little bit in the kitchen as everyone else had fun in the living room reminded me that I am a kid too, and that having someone take care of you, now and again, or when you really need it, is one of the best feelings in the world. It reminds you that as much as you think you need to do it all and be it all, someone else does always have your back.

As the week went on, I went with the kids and other family for a quick trip to NYC. I took along a Christmas gift from my dad, the next in the line of many cameras that he has bought for me over the years. I proceeded to drop said camera and break the SD card door right off of it and into 3 pieces. I mean, yeah, the camera still worked, but the door was pretty much done. And I was mad, sad, disappointed, not wanting to tell my dad. Yet, we came home, I fessed up, and ya know what? My dad fixed it. It is taped for now, because one latch is irreparable, but Dad's close and careful eye and steady hand fixed it up, made it functional. And Dad's sane engineering evaluation pinpointed the problem and is helping me find the full solution.

When I was a little girl I clearly remember that I used to say to other kids "Hey, my daddy can fix anything with tape." Ironically, this Christmas, in some ways that became true, but really, maybe the only thing my dad ever really did to fix things for me, was just being there. Just being MY DAD.

I have this little promise with myself to blog two times a month, and this month has been tough. I have been way to busy to ponder and think off, and quite frankly, am too busy tonight as well. The holidays are upon us after all, on top of the regular busy nature of the everyday. Still, tonight is notable. Do you remember getting new sneakers when you were a kid? Zips, or Kangaroos, or Reeboks, and thinking they totally made you jump higher, run faster, just function better than your normal everyday self? Almost imparting superpowers, if only for that first maiden wearing? Well, today, in the mail, Gwynn got her first pair of real hightop basketball sneakers, just in time for practice tonight. Tim brought her home from practice and warned me to brace myself for high enthusiasm. She was totally on Cloud 9. A beginner for sure, but trying hard, Coach told her, specifically, on her way out the door, that it was her best practice yet.

It must've been the shoes!

No surprise, though, as we all know, a great pair of shoes, heels, boots or even sneakers, really can make your day.

Or maybe it is just a great coach!
Thanks Coach Welcher! You're the best!

So here we are on the last day of November. All month, I have been doing a photo project with a friend, taking a shot of something I am thankful for with my phone, and today, I will shoot my last. Feels weird, kind of, as finishing a project always does. Maybe that is because, deep down, I am not a finisher after all. I am a beginner.

I am always full of ideas, and thoughts and things I want to do. And really I do a lot of that stuff, I think. I have few regrets, and feel like I regularly "cross out" things on my mental "to do" list, as well as my life "to do list," but for some reason I would not characterize myself as a finisher. I am not necessarily the girl you call if you need something to get done. I am not the worker. I am the dreamer, though, and really, in my opinion, that is not saying nothing.

I mean, I am in good company. John Lennon said it, "You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one."

I look at the world with hope and promise and joy. It is something I know, about me, and something that becomes more apparent to me when I do a day by day kind of project. I struggle with it, not grasping for something to be grateful for, but trying to pinpoint what to choose. I am thankful for the big things, naturally, as we all are, but I am also deeply thankful for the simple blessings of my life.

Tonight, we are off to date night, my hubby and I are. The theater even!!! I can hardly wait! Of course it is simply Gwynn's Drama Club "One Act Plays" presentation. To some that would seem an obligation. Even Gwynn said, as Tim and I were "playing up" our outing to the theeeeaaater, "Ummm, guys, remember you are just watching middle schoolers. You do that all the time." Yeah, she has a point, we do, that is true, at work AND at home.

I am a beginner. I have been trusted to raise two amazing children. Watching beginners, fellow dreamers, who are beginning in life. The combination is powerful. It is probably what I am the most thankful for in life. The family Tim and I have created. It truly is the "Greatest Show on Earth."

So thank you November, for your theme, for your project, and let the thankfulness of November usher in the complete and utter JOY of December.

Oh the complete and utter joy of a daily project. I am working on another one, thanks to Instagram, or as my brother calls it, Facebook for people who can't read, and also thanks to my dear friend Denise. It is just one of those projects everyone is doing these days, to be mindful, to show gratitude. This one is posting a November thankfulness image a day, to a common page, and it is amazing the consciousness it brings to life, for me at least. I am seeing so many things I am thankful for each day, that at times it is hard to choose. I am seeing the simple beautiful. Posting about my life helps me feel unique, but also paints for me a true understanding of the commonalities we all share in our individuality. I can literally see, when my photo uploads, how very much the same our individual stories are. The fact is that we are all just walking our own path, and living our own life, alone, but in conscious reflection, and through shared images, collectively, we are one.

Nothing new just new people doing it.

You're just like everybody else.

Through daily reflection, phrases that have haunted me my whole life, are starting to make sense. There IS nothing new, but what we experience, we experience as an individual and it becomes our own. We ARE all just like everyone else, and that can help us to see and know that whatever we are living through will be weathered, will be endured, will be survived. Joys are universal. Beauty is everywhere, every moment, every day. Love exists and is experienced, by everyone, in so many different and varied ways. Could I be so bold as to say that at 41 I am starting to understand humanity? That through looking at the day to day, I am starting to understand Life?

My obsession with the day to day project is also nothing new. Truly, I can even trace a great deal of it back to my childhood and to my second grade teacher Mrs. LaShire Singer. At the end of the school year, she sent us on our way with our report cards, and also with freshly dittoed calendars of July and August, hand written with activities for us to do each day. I have the calendars up in my attic, somewhere. I recall that she was headed to Europe that summer, and had marked the days of her journey on the calendar for us to share. I remember reading the notes on those days, "Mrs. LaShire is leaving on a jet plane," etc, and just thinking off and dreaming. What would it be like to go on a plane, to go to a foreign country, to GO? Her life inspired mine, even if it was only in my imagination. I wonder if she even knew.

As an adult I have always loved a fresh page, a planner, a journal, a count, down or up. My favorite holidays, Christmas, and then, New Years. Advent calendars, Page a Days, love 'em both. They feed my addiction. They support my need. A need to chronicle? A need to remember? Remembrance, paired with a need to know? Whatever it is, it is there. It is deep.

My obsession has reawakened in a lot of ways the past few years, as middle age has presented itself. Really, though, the renewed interest began in 2008, with my favorite Christmas gift. It was a book, sent to me, out of the blue, by another dear friend, Tarja. It was called A Year of Mornings, 3191 Miles Apart. It was a book of images, pictures of obscure things, of events, of everyday life, taken each morning, by two women living on opposite sides of the continent, then blogged to a website. The site gained a following, they made a book, and my friend saw it and thought of me. A friend that has always understood me, a friend that I don't see often, who I only hear from now and again, but still, she knows me. She knew years ago my need to be creative, and inspired me to believe in myself. In 2008 she inspired me again, 20 years into friendship, and 4055 miles apart.

Today, I continue my November project on Instagram, and blog about it here. I know some people won't get it, as I step into my shower with my phone, to capture a peek at a home improvement that has caused much strife, but also which, now, causes me to say "Ahhhhhh..." with cascades of warm water each and every morning. I shop the book that started it all into my amazon cart, ready to send it on to someone else I hold dear. Today I reflect on reflection. Today I am thankful, for reflection, for unique lives, for the universality of the human spirit,

for LIFE.

Life is full of simple gifts, like today's, of a dental appointment, on a sunny day.
My teeth may hurt, but who cares. I am home, it is warm, there is a breeze blowing through my door at the end of October. Indian Summer for sure. It comes every year, but it always seems to surprise. We have gone to fall mode. The school year is in full swing, and the temperatures for the most part are dropping. We are beginning to prepare for the cold. Still, nature, usually, in her own unusually predictable way, sends us one last treat before her big trick of winter. The cold winds may blow soon, the snow will fly, but for now I will drink in this last blast of summmer sun.

Speaking of Indian Summer, anyone else remember this old movie? Kind of "The Big Chill" for the geeky people who were obsessed with summer camp while growing up? Ummm, yeah, looked it up on IMDB today, and this sentence of the synopsis hit me...

"A group of childhood friends, now in their thirties, reunite at Camp Tamakwa."

HA! One of those reminders that my 30's are behind me for sure. Of course they are behind the stars from the movie as well, Elizabeth Perkins and Diane Lane being two, and they look better and better every year. Bill Paxton? Well, he has improved from his role in Weird Science for sure, but his role in Big Love with all those Mormon wives...jury's still out. Yep, time soldiers on for all of us, but for the moment, I think I will go out and enjoy the Indian Summer on my deck...and prematurely age my skin just a LITTLE more in the autumnal sun...ya only live once!

Do you think that, perhaps, contentment is the true sign that you have finally, fully, grown up? Maybe?

Then again, I sometimes see myself as far, far from grown.

Still, here we are on a Friday night, and I am taking great pleasure in doing laundry. I just threw in a load, and I am reveling in the whir of the machine, doing the work that must be done, as I relax, and recharge, and write.

I used to be such an "out on Friday" girl. All through college, and even into early adult hood, it was like that 90's song...what was it?

"Just got paid, Friday night, party huntin', feelin' right."

Well, these days, even the weeks I do get paid, most of the money is already spent. And the only party I really am hunting for is at my home. The guest list is usually my family, and the dress code is strictly enforced, only comfy clothes allowed.

Surrounded by the the garlicky scents leftover from take out. Accompanied by the belly laughs of my husband, son, and daughter watching some ridiculous show on TV in the living room. There is contentment, there is love, and there is peace.

Don't get me wrong, there is a world to explore. There are places to go, people to see. But they'll be there tomorrow. For now, it is Friday, and I am home.

It is that simple...and yes, simple IS beautiful.

Hair cut and color. Life changing? Maybe not. Attitude shifting, mindset changing, for sure.

Have been waiting for September to end, and it does, tomorrow. Monday starts a new week at school, and a new month.

Today, in preparation, I got a cut and color, a little shorter, a little deeper.

The shorter is easy to put to metaphor. My languid summer days are gone, my free time is limited. I have to make each moment count. I have things that HAVE to be done, so that the things that I WANT to do can still exist. I need to find the pockets of time, for my own children, for Tim, for friends and family, and probably most importantly, for me. Still, when time is more precious, sometimes it is better spent.
I go shorter.

The deeper is a tough one to admit. There is pressure, I am pressured. There is new - everywhere. New classroom, new schedules all around, new reading series, math series, and Common Core standards. Probably the most stressful and intimidating "new" have been the new teacher evaluations. Each and every one of these things has pressed my mind to go deeper into who I am as a person, a worker, a teacher. I have had to remind myself of what I believe in for children, for education, and, ultimately, how I am going to navigate this new and turbulent storm. I have 14 more years in education, I have to make it work, and I can and will. My mind goes deeper. I can make it work, for me, and in turn, for my kids.


I go deeper.
Time carries on.
Welcome, October.

My balance has been in extremes lately.

I noticed today when my iTunes downloads were the following...

Green Day...and Taylor Swift.

It made me think back on this September, and what it has been full of.

I've had some beautiful days, with what is shaping up to be the cutest class of fourth graders, contrasted with more days than I want to count with co-workers breaking down in frustration.

Weekends full of fun and family, and work on our house, have been contrasted with some time of extreme quiet, where the four of us seem to be existing in the same house, separately. We are a family of introverts, at heart, and are merely in self preservation mode, refreshing from the busy busy start of the school year. It hits us hard every time.

Nights where I sleep like the dead, and dream the strangest dreams, are contrasted with nights I wake up and can't stop thinking for one, two, or more hours.

Dinners of four star quality, where Tim and I comment about why we ever go out, contrast with nights of franks and beans.

Evenings where I have started back on a path I need, practicing yoga, balance, in the extreme sense, with nights where I am channeling Lloyd Bridges in "Airplane," saying "Guess I picked the wrong month to quit _____." Just pick a coping mechanism and fill in the blank, drinking, chain eating,"cocoon-ing" on the couch with my "Cymbalta Blanket" and my iPod, watching TV I don't even want to watch. You name it, some nights, that's where I am.

I know it will end. I know the extreme balance I have now, the highs and lows, will even out and we'll hit a groove. I know it will come, I'm just wondering when, and wondering how bumpy the journey to that point will continue to be.

Green Day says, "Wake Me Up, When September Ends," and I would seem to agree.

Hangin' in my house by the bay...wastin' time.

It comes to this point every summer it seems. And it is probably a good indication that it is time to go back to work, but, I am finding these days that I am exceedingly good at wasting time. Now mind you, the laundry is caught up, things are fairly organized, and the house as clean as I am going to bother to make it being that we are still in the midst of constructing the upstairs bath. Food is shopped for and dinner is even ready to go in the fridge. Bills are paid. Lawn is mowed. I just, literally, have nothing I need to do, so, I have come to find myself frittering the day away doing just that. Nothing.

Granted I have spent some time today reading, and eating, and watching TV. I have done the menial cleanup of breakfast and lunch. Folded some laundry. I am helping my son clean out his closet of old toys and "stuff" his 14 year old self finally doesn't really need. I am helping my daughter in her quest to build a rather involved Lego structure. I'm keeping an eye on the dog, who is holding her tail funny and favoring her back side from some overly active chase with a now destroyed ball.

So really, is that even wasting time?

Naturally, as any skilled time waster would, I posted a status update on Facebook concerning my considerable sloth. A former teacher of mine replied to me, though, that I was just resting my brain, which is an important thing to do. That really hit me. It is exactly right. That is exactly what I am doing. I am so thankful to be in a career that allows me time to rest my brain. It is in the summer that I have the time to zone out, and with that I recharge. I ruminate on all things. I tend to come out of the summer rested, happy, adjusted, and able to face the stresses of a new school year. Goodness knows this year promises to be a crazy one too, what with Common Core standards, SLO's, new teacher evaluations, and, for me, a new role as Union VP. Phew. That on top of just old regular everyday silly stuff like teaching 22 fourth graders.

Yep, I may be wasting time today, but really, I'm resting my brain. And it's a good brain. It has served me well these 41 years. And it had better be thankful for this so called wasted time, 'cause soon enough, it will be on overdrive. When things get crazy, my brain and I will need to think back on this August day and say to each other,

"Hey, you remember when..."

Phew, has it been hot or what the last few days? Today was such a relief, paired with the fact that I had the best night sleep of the past several last night. I was back on my OWN side of the bed after all.
You see, the way our room is laid out, our window fan blows on my side of the bed. Most nights we just switch the direction of the fan to blow out and things are fine, but as hot as it was, we had to bring in some cool night air. I HATE a fan blowing on me as I sleep, but again, as hot as it was, we decided to adjust ourselves to avail the fan. Tim took my side, I took his, and all was a little bit cooler in the world.

Last night, after a line of thunderstorms came through, was much cooler, so we switched back. When I woke up in the night at one point, though, I realized that while I had reclaimed my side of the bed, I did not reclaim my pillow. We were both so wiped out when we fell asleep last night that we never even noticed, but at 3 am, I felt the single piping along the side of the pillow, where mine is double and thought, damn. Could I have woken Tim back up and had him switch with me then, sure. Did I? Nah. I just laid my head back down, listened to the drone of the fan, and fell back to sleep.

Over the course of 19 years of marriage, Tim has sometimes called me "The Princess" when it comes to bed, since I can ofttimes detect "The Pea" beneath the mattresses. I will need it cool and yet warm enough, no blowing air, I will need to have washed my face, brushed my teeth, the covers will need to be just so.

I will have to share last nights epiphany with him...seems the times they are a changing. Bending. Flexing. Growing.

Or I am just THAT tired:)

Add it to the list I guess...

Some things I have learned in 19 years of marriage...

Sometimes it is OK to go to bed mad.

You might love him/her a lot, but you won't like him/her every day.

The biggest stressor in life will be the house...well, if yours is an old house like ours.

Kids are a close second.

Kids are also the deepest joy.

Laughing together after a long day is the best medicine.

A glass of wine (or two, or three) together after a long day is a good plan too.

Shared interests are great,time alone is great too, and "alone together time" might be the best thing going. Find time for it all.

Go AWAY together...explore...adventure...be someone new, someplace new, every now and then.

And finally, realize that yes, sometimes, you can switch sides of the bed, and somehow, you will survive.

Happy 19th anniversary babe!

And we come to the half way point of summer.

If I were to look back at my past several summers I surely would see that I usually have over-analyzed my inability to hit my stride until this point.

This year, I've just been living my life, and you know, I kind of had to sit and think for a minute about that fact that, at this point, summer is both half empty and half full...mostly full of fun.

We've had two weddings, an explosive fourth and a trip to the beach.
We're headed towards several more trips, and some home reno again, but this time with the support of good friends and some good cocktails to keep us keepin' on.

As Tim and Devin were doing some electrical work this past week and putting in a new light on my front "Zen Porch," it was revealed that Gwynn's bedroom, with its bowling alley length and roof influenced ceilings, has long been labeled, in the breaker box as "Fun Room."
Well in this house, in summer especially, every room is a fun room. In fact a gentleman who is related to the people that used to own our home stopped by our house today. We had him in for a bit, and he walked through the house with us, reliving childhood memories and repeating how this is such a great place to raise kids. Truer words could not be spoken. We have been truly blessed all the years we have lived in this house. The house that has a fun room is also a fun house, and it has been a fun summer so far.

And if I were a gambling girl, which I am, I'd bet the best, as always, is yet to come.

Dearest Love of my Life,
All I ever really want you to do is paint my house.
Really.
Just like Jon Bon Jovi in that movie "Moonlight and Valentino."
You want to turn me on? Just paint my house.
I don't want you to build, or remodel, or support, or install, or plumb. Not that you can't do those things. You can. I just don't like you when you do. I don't like me when you do. I don't like us when you do.
From now on, let's hire things out, and we'll just paint.
Sincerely,
Your Loving Wife

See, we've been under the spell, here, of a stubborn bathroom for nearly a year. We started a so called "cosmetic" re-do at the end of last summer. We always seem to get to a point with our summer money where we know what we can afford to do, but sadly, once we are at that point financially, we are also at the point where our time is compromised as school lurks just around the corner. Last summer we stripped VERY stubborn wallpaper, and painted, a very bright and unforgiving color, over very much not so nice walls. School started. We stopped there. Short of a new vanity and hardware and toilet and flooring. That all would have to wait until later. And it did.

Then, spring brought a sign. A chance to have some help installing the toilet came our way. And we took it. Along with help getting the floor started. But we had to stop there as other responsibilities loomed, and April break brought travel. So new toilet and half a floor it was for several months.

Finally, in this first week off for summer vacation, while the kids went to stay at Camp Grandparents for a while, we figured the time and money were both ripe for just finishing up the job. Quick and simple. Do the floor, vanity and molding. Yet it has been a roller coaster of this that and the other thing going wrong, right down to a faulty gasket in a beautiful, even a little pricey, Delta sink fixture. Yep.

So again, it has cemented my belief that you can only be good at so much on the home front. Tim and I are pretty good in the marriage relm, and have pretty cool kids, so I always feel like we have those areas workingly under control. Then there are the other things that eat up life...work, house and home. We do fine at work, and home too as our place is cozy, decorated comfortably, we keep up on laundry, do fun stuff as a family, and cook great meals. You know what we truly SUCK at though, and I hate that word but it SO fits here, the HOUSE part...as in HOUSE fixing, HOUSE cleaning, HOUSE maintenance...we suck at it all!

And I don't know that we are really all that bad at it. It just is NOT what we enjoy. At all. Either of us. We do what we have to. And we know what we'd LIKE to do TO the house. But it is the actual doing that is like torture. Especially in the summer, when time is available, but books, and the boat, and kids, and good food, and travel and fun calls.

So the next time we get an idea to redo/fix/demolish/update or renovate our pain in the ass turn of the last century farmhouse, it will be a phone call, and I do hope it is Jon Bon or an equivalent look alike that shows up on my doorstep to help out. Tim and Dev will probably be out on the boat, Gwynn and I will be putzing around the house, doing whatever, myself probably watching, happily, from an adirondack chair, sipping some wine and reading a book. The job will get done, family balance will remain as it should be, and all will be right in the world again.

And before that, we WILL finish this ALBATROSS of a bathroom.

But from now on, let's come to an agreement. You, babe, just paint my house:)

Sometimes God, or Allah, or Buddah, or whomever, the universe if you will, sends you a sign.

It has been a somewhat long school year for me in some ways. I guess any thing, though, that you are a part of for coming on 20 years does warrent examination. So hard school year? Perhaps not. Reflective school year? Absolutely.

Anyways, back to that sign.

Last week, a former student contacted me asking if I wanted to get together for coffee. With the heat, I suggested a drink instead, and that is just what we did a couple of days ago. Drinks on the deck at Pleasant Beach. It had been a long day at work, with students for a half day, and wellness activities involving sweat like you wouldn't believe the rest. Then we had meetings and worked on report cards in a convection oven like setting. Still, or especially after all that, a beer on the deck and the cares of the day drifted away. The hazy, hot and humid was merely the back drop of reconnecting, reminicing,and reflecting...those illusive but ever so important three R's. It was so good to see my former student, and realize I had meant something to her. And it was even more wonderful to see and hear about the highly successful young woman she has become. I was so proud of her and all of her accomplishments.

Sometimes I miss those good old days of teaching. I miss the days I had more time to connect with kids. It was the days before I had my own children, so, lets face it, I had more time overall, but also, things were looser. Demands were lesser. State standards hadn't even been spoken of. Even curriculums were simply white bound booklets from the state, very vague, and not very helpful, but in retrospect, sort of freeing. There was some feeling of "anything goes," there was the abliity to teach about what mattered to you, there was the time to really delve into the teachable moment. Did anything go? No. This is teaching we are talking about, done by teachers, and we are a highly responsible lot. We do what we should do. We are highly accountable individuals, for the most part. And I think, back in those days when I had less structure given to me, I, in some ways, had more structure to my teaching. I owned it. I did what I knew was right when I knew it was right. I listened to kids and metered my teaching to them.

Well, today, school ended. I finished my 19th year as a teacher. Things have changed, a lot. Some for the good, some for the bad, but one thing is sure. And I learned, or was reminded of this, when meeting up with my former student the other night. Regardless of it all, we are growing humans. There may be demands put upon us, by new evaluations, student learning objectives, and assessments that feel sometimes like they will do us in. But we need to keep in mind that it is the connections we make, as people, that probably matter the most. If we can spark a love of learning and send children out into the world with a drive to do their best, sometimes, they come back to us, and, if we take the time, we might notice that this is a sign...and we know, once and for all, that what we do is the right thing and what we do, each and every day, matters.

Really, it is hard to believe that 20 years ago today I started to wear the ring that is pictured above. I told the story of how the ring came to be on my finger before, but how it stays? That, I am finding these days, is the real story.

After 20 years I have been debating whether I might like to upgrade my ring...trade it in for something new...styles and tastes change after all. But for some reason, every time I think of it I just get a funny feeling, like it just wouldn't be right. And today, at this 20 year mark, I know that is for sure. I can feel it in my bones as deeply and certainly as I felt Tim would be my husband, forever, just weeks into the time we were dating. It just was right. It just was true.

This ring just is my ring.

Rings are just jewelry, I know, but THIS ring has been with me, with us, for it all. The planning, the wedding day, the honeymoon, but more importantly, it has been there for the marriage, for our LIFE.

Rings are just jewelry, as weddings are just days. But Marriages are a life, and I have been blessed with an uncommon one. We are truly lovers, and partners, but most of all, friends.

And I'd do it all again

The things we do.

Made a delicious, if simple, dinner tonight, with some yummy, if cheap wine. It was so uplifting. Just brought me to that completely centered place, loving my husband, family, self, and life.

Said husband, to bring himself up and recharge, has gone for a bike ride.

Why is it I can't find zen in exercise? Over the years I have enjoyed exercise, at times. There was Swim Team in Highschool. And Yoga. I do love yoga, and even more so yoga wear. Walking is OK, especially with the addition of an iPod, and without the tugging black lab. But exercise is never what I choose to clear my head. Never. I wish I could make that connection. Maybe it takes a more focused approach. Maybe one of my summer projects, along with my extensive reading list, all the things I want to do, and the places I want to visit, not to mention the objective of twice a week on the boat minumum, should be to incorporate meaningful exercise into my life. Maybe if I do that it will become a part of me, something I want and desire, something I choose to do, on a regular basis, to center my mind and my body as well.

Or maybe I will just have a little dark chocolate along with the last of my wine.

Positivity...

I just was driving down the road and that word, if it is even a word, popped into my head. In light of all that has been going on lately, I began to reflect on how that word IS me. I am a positive person. I mean, yes, I complain about life in general, about my job, and I have my down times, but really, no matter what life throws at me, I see the good side, or at least the OK side, or at least the "we can handle it" side, and we always do, and that, in a nutshell, is me.

Who knew.

You get a these moments of clarity here and there. As Alanis sang to us, you live, you learn.

What prompted this reflection? Well, along with the thrill of Devin's knee injury, and navigating that as of late, today Tim woke me up with "Honey, you'll need to shower downstairs. The upstairs shower is cracked." He was trying to say this in the nicest way possible, gently stroking my arm, knowing I am NOT a morning girl and was likely to blow, like he already was, inside. But I woke up, digested the news, groggily, and responded with "Well, it has been on its last legs since we moved in, guess it finally decided it was done." Seeing my calm, Tim realized that he could safely complain and lament the "not fair" nature of the whole thing, the "it's always something" story, the "if only it could have held off for a month until school is out and we have some money" irony. One is calm, one is not, yin and yang. It is why and how we work.

Still, it comes down to the fact that the shower was a piece of crap anyways. Time to fix it. Time to move on.

In life, it really is always something. It feels like we've had our share of somethings lately. They could move on to someone, somewhere else, and I'd be just fine with that. But if they don't, I still choose positivity. Look at the problem, and see it with new eyes. See the silver lining, as the cliche urges. Be in the now, and make the situation work. I have always tried to be like this, like Oprah always said, you have to have gratitude, keep the journal. I even downloaded an app for that now that I have a smartphone. Still, each and every time I try that, I fail. I forget to record, daily, all that I have that is good. I forget to put on paper the things that are going well for me, and to give thanks. But still, each and every day, no matter what faces me, I am a person who has positivity. I do see beauty, and happiness, all around me. I feel love beyond love from my family, every day...every moment. I don't always write it down, but boy do I know it is there. I revel in the beauty of our lake, each and every time I drive by it, or get out of my car and see the blue water, even if it is over a marina. I cherish my cozy little house, even as it falls apart around me, as it is home. I hear good music and I smile. I hear laughter and I laugh along.

I hit a rough patch, and instead of crying, I ponder.
I brainstorm. I dream and strategize.
I do see the good. I guess I am a positive person.

Positivity..don't care if it is word or not...it popped into my head this morning on the boring, yet full of beauty 8 minute drive up to school for a reason. And even for that word, I am thankful. Now, off to work, and to tackle the next thing life is going to throw my way.

Bring it!

It's always something these days, I'll tell ya. And I am pretty sure I have blogged about it before, but really, when did life get so crazy!?!?

Coming off of a wonderful long weekend at camp, that can sometimes be crazy itself, and less than relaxing, but this time was heavenly, we end up at a doctor's appointment where Devin is sent for x-rays and a knee immobilizer. Just to be sure, yeah, but still. I could have stood for a slip/twist of the knee that was just a slip/twist of the knee. But no. Sigh. Then, we apparently have a follow up with an orthopedist in Syracuse next week, again, just to be sure, and because ligaments are tricky. Oh well, add it to the list of fun and frolic that always seems to be on our doorstep these days.

At least all this doctor running means Tim is bringing home Oswego Subs for dinner.
It's the little things.
Has to be the little things these days, as the big things are starting to PISS me OFF!

Oh glorious summer like day...how I wish you could go on, and on, and on. This time of year is such a struggle for me. Change. I love it, and hate it, all at once. And much much change is on the horizon. There are endings and beginnings a plenty, and while my work life revolves around them, in that they happen every year, with a new class and all, year, after year, after year...and you would think I would get used to them, somehow it seems, I don't. Perhaps it is because the changes, the endings, and the beginnings are magnified these days by my own children.

Next month,Gwynn leaves me behind in the Elementary School, forever, and Devin heads to High School, a mere 4 years from College. They are becoming real PEOPLE before my eyes, and I am humbled to think I have raised two people I am proud of, and enjoy, as much as I do these two. But still, when I sit back and think on it, as I did a great deal this weekend, I can't believe how fleeting it all is. When you have a child, you can't believe, and in my case, resent, how your life has changed forever. Now I can't imagine life any different than it is right now. It is perfect, it is a dream. And I know when I was the age they are at, life seemed to crawl at a snail's pace. Each year went on, and on, and on. But now, I know, each year is but a blip on the radar...each year flashes by at the speed of light, of life, and I intend, somehow, to slow it all down, to take it all in, to savor every moment. To be thankful for the happy little family I have worked so hard to create. To love.

Wastin' Time...

Felt like I was going to get so much accomplished this weekend. In fact, Tim and I made an exhaustive list on Saturday morning, knowing it was a bit ambitious, but also saying aloud to eachother not to worry, we'd get to it over the course of the WHOLE weekend. Well, here we are on Sunday evening, and I can say that truly, I have done about one and a half things that were, essentially, "mine" on the list. I, instead, spent my time wasting time.

Not that this was a problem at all.
In fact, both yesterday, and today, I feel like I totally lost track of time. Every now and again, when that happens, if you ask me, it is such a sweet escape.

Yesterday, after being up the road at my friend Mary's house for a little get together, I came home totally happy, and refreshed, and puttered around a bit while Tim napped and the kids hung in their rooms. When I looked at the clock, truly SHOCKED that it was 6:15 pm, my dinner plan to make Saurbraten was completely shot. Still, soup and grilled cheese sufficed for all, and we settled in to watch a movie with minimal kitchen cleanup. Winner winner, no fuss dinner.

Today, I stopped at Sue's house on my way to get groceries, and Gwynn played with Jillian for a while. It was so nice to kick back for a few, and talk, like we can't in our "7 minutes" at work everyday. A dragon berry lemonade and myriad topics later, I, again, was truly shocked when I looked at the clock and it was 2:30. I had lost time completely, and it was wonderful.

Life at times is so scheduled. The last two weeks at home have been hectic, like so many are. Then at work, with NYS Testing, things have been truly hellish. 6 days, 90 minutes each, over the course of 10 school days, with 9 and 10 year old children, was just plain too much. This time wastin' weekend was just what I needed even if I didn't know I needed it. Yep, Mick, sometimes, you really do get what you need.

When did it get so hard?

What I really want to know is when did a night of doing nothing become a night of cooking and cleaning up an entire meal, mowing the lawn, putting away scads of laundry, paying a couple of bills and cleaning a bathroom? When did I start seeing this as "not too much?" What did I DO with my time back in my twenties, when it was just the two of us, living in a barely two bedroom apartment with no lawn to speak of that we didn't even have the responsibility for?

All I want to do is finish the book that I have been trying to finish for the last two plus weeks, but of course those two plus weeks included parent teacher conference week at work, then vacation which we spent exploring and learning some more, in our nation's capitol.

Now were back, to work, and the routine, but the routine is also off kilter due to hours and hours of state testing that is going on in my classroom this week. And when, while we speaking of change and increase of responsibility here, did that get so out of control? I can think back to the days of 3rd grade PET testing, a one day cloze test, which was fairly innocuous, and which, quite frankly, allowed me some time to get some work done in my classroom. Now, our testing is more and more and more...about 9 hours when all is said and done this week with ELA...and I get less and less done.

Why?

Well, because I am policing the room like never before, cracking the whip on some, soothing the furrowed brow of others. It is a lesson in human sanity and tenacity and nothing else. I have been so proud of my fourth graders, for rising to the occasion, and truly doing their best. I don't know that I would have had the stamina they have had. They need to have even more for Book 3 tomorrow, the third and final task, and if you ask me, the hardest. I don't know why we ask it of them. I don't know what asking of them really does to their young minds, but yet, I, no we, labor on...and on...and on...and for what?

When did it get so hard?

...so bizarre that I sit here in my son's sweatshirt.

I came home from work today to 58 degrees and sunny...fabulous for March in Upstate NY, but not as warm as the 75 I was in at work all day, a mere 8 miles away. Still the lake is in the 40's, so a mix with warm air created an eerie fog, and, naturally, damp cold air as well. There was still sun, and it was so nice to sit outside, but I needed a sweatshirt. His was on the chair. I threw it on.

Only moments ago, simply sitting in the living room watching TV, did I take in how warm and cozy I was. And I realized, I am in my son's sweatshirt. The little boy I carried, is, these days, very nearly bigger than me. His sweatshirt, roomy. But warm. We're at that turning point, where I still protect him, I am his mom, I am his strength, but at times, now, I feel a reassuring pat from him as well. He has a way of knowing when I need time, to myself, or time with him. He sits close, snuggles and talks, or me gives space. I hope I give him the balance of space that he needs as well. I am still the mom, but we talk, at times, more like equals. He asks big questions, and instead of simplifying, I give him big answers.

Yep, that's our family, we talk, and talk, and talk. So much is happening, so much newness, so much change, everyday. He is getting older. It feels like time is just flying by. But it also feels like a whole new beginning.

On the heels of buying my son a pair of dress shoes in the same size my husband wears, I needed some retail therapy myself and bought these cute as heck black silk shantung espadrilles. It was a beautiful sunny day today, and realistically, I could even wear these to work this week, if my toenails were in any way ready to see the light of day. But I think they were my little pick me up for today, and I will save their debut for a day when it is more truly spring...not just a somewhat perplexing seasonal confusion like this week feels.

Driving home from our shopping trip, I had some great music playing, the sun was bright in the sky, and Devin was next to me, but quiet, as he was engrossed in The Hunger Games. ("Mom, Dad, this book is SO good!!!" No, really? Didn't we TELL you you should read it a month or more ago? Ahhh, the satisfaction of finding something on your own...) I was thinking fondly of my new shoes, and also got to thinking of my fourth grade teacher...always interesting to think back on your own teachers, in particular when you are one yourself.

Mrs. Snover was not a teacher I disliked, or liked, really. When I think of her she is just kind of neutral, but I have two very distinct memories nonetheless. One involved a note written to her, by my friend Sally and myself, explaining to her that we really were not happy with our placement in a cooperative group with a boy in our class named Harold. And no, I am not making these names up...weird ones even for the 70's, eh? Harold, infamously, peed his pants in front of the class while giving a book report, and in our letter, we wrote a sentence that we found quite eloquent. "Quite frankly, we both feel he has BO." I remember giving her the letter and standing there while she read it. I was quizzically reading her body language and had no idea why, at one point, a ways into the letter, she seemed to, almost, laugh. She finished reading letter, then gently informed Sally and myself that she would not be changing the groups, but that the groups would not be forever, and weren't we at least happy to be seated together. Life went on. We survived Harold. We did get moved, eventually. Still, that possible laugh on her part, it haunted me.

The other memory, she wore high heels to work every day, but changed into well worn blue canvas espadrilles that she kept beneath her desk every day in the afternoon.

I think I understand Mrs. Snover now.

No day but today.

Days don't get much better than high 60's in Upstate NY in the middle of March. It was fortunate that some friends of ours stopped by unexpectedly because it at least got me outside. Gwynn had her friends here to (not) sleep over and I was up, buzzing on little girl energy myself, until about 2 am, which, with the time change, was actually 3. They were up at 7, left around 11. I cleaned up, got some laundry started, and watched a DVD with Gwynn. She drifted off on the couch, and I was close behind, but then, thankfully, Val and Roger and their dog, stopped by. I got outside. I got a zap of sun energy. I spent the rest of the day pretty productively. I will surely be OUT on the couch in an hour or so, but still...no day but today.

The DVD Gwynn and I enjoyed today was Idina Menzel "Barefoot at the Symphony," full of music from Broadway...Wicked, Rent, Chess...standards and "others"...truly an eclectic mix. It was just released, and Tim pre-ordered it for me from Amazon for my birthday. It arrived yesterday. It was really the sweetest gift, as this was a recording, done in Toronto, but from the symphony tour we saw in Buffalo in September. A way to re-visit one of our "epic adventures" that are so much a part of "us."

Today, watching it, I was welling up just as much, if not more, than the night we were at Kleinhann's Music Hall. Her voice, her acting ability, her lyrical interpretation, the songs themselves. It all just moved me, as music always does. And let's face it, on the eve of my baby boy turning 14, and on the wave of very little sleep, well, let's just say, emotion was close to the surface. The kids always laugh, a little uncomfortably, at me when I cry. They are not nasty or chiding in any way, but, obviously, they are wondering what is wrong. To them crying is for the sad times, for the bad times. If they only knew, yet, I am glad that they don't. They have the most beautiful lives. I am so blessed...and let's not candy coat it. It has been hard work these last 14 years, but I think Tim and I have created just what we always wanted. A family.

No day but TODAY!

There's only us
There's only this
Forget regret-- or life is yours to miss.
No other road
No other way
No day but today

There's only yes
Only tonight
We must let go
To know what is right
No other course
No other way
No day but today

I can't control
My destiny
I trust my soul
My only hope
is just to be

There's only now
There's only here
Give in to love
Or live in fear
No other path
No other way
No day but today

Jonathan Harris : Today

So I can't get over, tonight, the fact that today,leap day, is, essentially an extra day of LIFE. I know, I know, that in the linear nature of our existance, I will only have so many days,and that this one isn't an extra, but is merely a space along the way. But in the context of 2012, I get one extra day to live it. In my first year of my forties, I get 24 more hours. Hmmmm, might have been better last year, whilst I was holding on to the bitter end of my 30's, but you know, really, 40 so far has been just fine, so I will take the gift as it is presented to me today. The past is the past,the future uncertain, but today is the present, after all.

...took a little time today to write a little message for Tim's Grandma Colby. We are having a 90th birthday party for her tomorrow, and all the grandchildren got Pandora charms to represent their families to give to her. The write up explains our charm. Overall, there are 11 grandchildren...10 great grandchildren...let's just say she's gonna have to keep up her weight bearing exercises for this bracelet! Happy Birthday Grandma! We love you!


“The River”

We see you in many ways, Grandma, and enjoy you at many times and in many places, but the place we really see you is at the river. At camp. It is a place of chaos for sure, when we have gaggles of people and all their stuff there! But it is also a place of rest, of peace. A place to have fun, to fish, to play. It is a place we come to be together and to sit, for a small moment, in awe of all that a family can be. People often hear of our antics at camp, and of how many people will be descending upon a tiny group of islands to share a humble abode for a few days. They see the pictures. They marvel at who we are as a family, and at what our family does.

Are they confused? Probably.
Are they envious? For sure.
Should they be? Yes!

WE have a wonderful family, and a wonderful place we get to share. It is all because of Grandpa, and because of you. Thank you from the bottoms of our hearts, and when you look at your Happy Fish charm, think of us, and of camp, and of all that it means to us, to you, to us all.

Such peace...sitting here...finishing my morning coffee out of a mug. The kids are off at their grandparent's. The only noise is quiet banter of morning TV talk shows. The sun is streaming through my window, glinting off the snow, and the droplets of water coming off the bay window roof. It is soon time to get moving. It is time to get dressed. As much as break is meant for rest, it is also time to accomplish some stuff, while we have some time. But for now, I just take in the peace, and quiet, and stillness, of some time, at home, alone.

Feeling listy today...February break has just begun and it was SO needed. Today, Devin had a bowling tournament...varsity bowling team, yep, that's how we roll here...and so he was off in Rochester, Tim was working on the house, and Gwynn and I got to go to lunch and shop.

1. I feel so lucky to have a girl who likes to play with her mom. Lunch was fun. Shopping too. Then, tonight as I cooked dinner, she was alongside me, baking a dessert.

2. Got a new book today...French Lessons by Ellen Sussman. I was re-reading French Women Don't Get Fat yesterday...goodness knows why. Inspiration to do SOMETHING to take off the 5-8 pounds that have been hanging around since summer? Who knows. But again, it points to my French thing...going back to the travel poster on the back of my childhood bedroom.

3. Tonight, planning to watch some "Downtown Abbey" with Tim , streaming on Netflix. OK, Francophile obsessions paired with BBC drama? Maybe I am just on a European bent.

4. I never cook small anymore. You should SEE the tuna noodle casserole I have in the oven right now. It will be hard to pare down when we don't have kids at home anymore. Or will it? We got to reminiscing, over a great dinner this past week, about meals we used to cook when we were first together, without kids. We made this great egg bread. We made this yummy Bisquick Spinach casserole. We made a lot of Tuna Helper. Maybe what I made tonight is just the "I know how to make it homemade and healthy for my kids" phase of this, born of the necessity to feed a hungry almost 14 year old boy. It is also the economical phase of things I guess...quantity over quality? Perhaps the eventual evolution will be individual seered tuna steaks and a noodle side when it is just cookin' 4 two! Then again, we will be paying for college...

5. What is ahead for this week? Who knows, who cares. But I have a new book, some good food, wine and beer and yummy mixed drink options at the ready. We have some family stuff on the docket, some kid free time planned, a possible outing with friends, and show tickets for next Sunday. Les Miserables. ACK! LOOK! The FRENCH thing again!

Whatever it all ends up being, it is February Break. The break with NO holiday attached. The break just for breaks sake.
WOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SO, a friend responding to my post on Facebook about sending Tim to get the groceries said I should write a book on living the good life...this is for you Mar.

It's a one outfit weekend, that's what it is.

It seems I am fully in my January Cocoon, and couldn't be happier. This week, Tim and I, through our while at work email exchanges, talked about a bunch of stuff we wanted to do over the weekend. As it stands, we've done, well, none of it. Friday was leftovers for dinner, and Tim's foil to my falling asleep on him on Thursday night. Saturday brought some running to hardware stores for him and Devin, and a little home improvement, but it was a day of homey-stuff and movies and slugging for Gwynn and myself, ending in some other re-purposed leftovers for dinner last night. In fact, yesterday I never even made it into a shower and into my outfit until about 3 o'clock.

Fast forward to today and after a lazy morning, full of coffee, and conversation over CBS Sunday Morning, which is quickly becoming our family's church, our day has been punctuated by music from a new discovery, laundry, and phone calls to cousins. There has been the necessary homework, and, as shared, Tim made the grocery run, but only to the next town over, to the IGA. Overall, it has just been a day full of meaningful solitude.

And I didn't get dressed today until 2, so you know what? I threw on the same thing as yesterday, merely changing my scarf. Yep, a one outfit weekend.

What it comes down to is the fact that our family is just so able to occupy, maybe not Wall Street, but certainly our West Bay Road home. I said to Tim that I was almost feeling like I was becoming a recluse. I am at the wintery point, even minus the snow, where I could care if I leave my home. Still, my ever present voice of reason, he replied by reminding me that our fall was VERY busy, followed by December and Christmas. And February is already filling up, with an upcoming gathering with good friends already on the calendar, February Break which will certainly involve some travel, and at the end of the month, a big 90th birtday bash for his Grandma.

Knowing that, I am suddenly no longer feeling guilty, or perplexed at my need. Solitude. Quiet. Reclusiveness. Family Time. Cocooning. Burrowing. Whatever you want to call it. Right now, that is what is going on here. It is what I want. It is what we need. And, if you ask me, it is how to live the good life.

At least for us.

OK, just spent several minutes trying to pull together, and finish, one of the several blog posts I started back in December. Somehow, for some reason, it just mysteriously disappeared. Probably just a malfunction with my laptop, or Blogger, but I am going to take it as a sign.

Time to start over.

It is MLKJr. weekend, and although the family spent most of it sick, it was still a good, relaxing 3 days off. We just spent a lot of time together; listening to music, watching movies and TV, reading books. Today, everyone feels a little better, so as I type, Gwynn and Tim are baking cookies. Also, everyone but me due to my raspy cough, tried out the new snowshoes that Santa brought, on the meager bit of snow we actually do have, so that was good. Today we got Christmas put away too, which was, truly, my only absolute thing on the "to do list" for the weekend. You know, every year I say I am going to SIMPLIFY at Christmas, but more and more, I just think the holidays are a certain level of crazy. If you accept that and just go with the flow things kind of turn out better. That is going to be my new mantra. To hell with simplifying, just get on the crazy train and hold on tight, after all, things really do slow down in January.

When asked, I am the type of person that can usually pinpoint favorites. Favorite number, favorite holiday, favorite day of the week, but favorite month? Hmmmmm. Not sure I have ever really thought about that one. Now I LOVE LOVE LOVE summer since, being a teacher, I have never in all my years missed a summer vacation. But really, when I think about it, January ranks right up there. Sure it is cold and blustery, but out of that we USUALLY get some delays or snow days, and who doesn't love that? Plus cold winter days mean stayng cozy in the house, bundled up, under blankets on the couch. I always catch up on my reading in January. Then there is the fact that January is the start of a brand new year. My favorite holiday is New Year's Eve after all, with the festivity and fresh beginnings it encompasses. January is just an extention of the same.

Who knew. Favorite month - January. You find out something new about yourself every day.
And here we are, starting over. New Year, welcome. A fond farerwell 2011. You were a blast. 2012. I'm all yours.