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.