9.20.22

I decided to listen to Beethoven's 9th, 4th movement, for my morning walk. I'd just read a little essay titled "Come Back Joy" from Rachel Macy Stafford and I decided to treat myself to the Ode to Joy, knowing it was a personally potent antidote for low moods. It started out rocky-- I didn't immediately find the full movement in Apple music and that was annoying, so I had to stop in the middle of the sidewalk to carefully plug in the precise terms, "Beethoven Symphony No. 9, movement IV" to get what I needed. But once I was back on track, and listening to all 25 minutes of goodness, it was a powerful as ever, even in the too-sunny, too-hot morning. I mouthed along to the German words I still remembered, let tears leak out in the places they needed to, and even allowed my hands to conduct the last 45 seconds or so, because you just HAVE to. It's Robert Fulghum's fault. Oatmeal Days and all that. 

So... Essay. Walk. Ode to Joy. Tears and tiny conducting movements.... Yeah. It's all working. This warm fuzzy feeling in my chest confirms it. 

9.22.22

This morning, when I put in my earbuds, I accidentally tapped "play" on them and Mumford and Son's "Not With Haste" started playing. YES. I opened the music app and had it create a station based on the song, so I was also treated to Dave Matthew's "Crash" and "Ho Hey" by the Lumineers. It all fit so well with the new chill in the air and the fallish breezes I was gifted with for my entire walk. I saw a holly bush with plump clusters of berries starting to color up. I passed the most perfect nook of a neighborhood where impatiens were spilling out of ever possible spot and crevice. One dog barked in a faux-watchdog way but her mama said she was harmless. Another dog gave me a friendly look. A little baby-kid on the playground and his mom both waved at me. It was 61 degrees and it was so perfect. 

9.27.22

I will always associate this date with Bonnie Fairbanks, my first best friend ever, because it's her birthday. And tomorrow is another of my early-years best friend's birthday, Emily Whitman. Brains are weird. The temperature for my walk this morning was 57-ish degrees and I LOVED it. I spent today's walk listening to the last 35 minutes of my audiobook, "Becoming", by Nora Roberts. It's the second in a trilogy, but the third one isn't coming out til November, so now I have to try to retain all the details of what I've been listening to all month so I don't feel lost come November. It has been a perfect set of books to walk along to... a fantasy world with modern aspects, very Nora Roberts in that it delves a lot into the main character's inner world and growth, and the external "adventure" aspects are good fun, but not terribly complex. Overall a pretty simple set of stories, but good fun to escape into. Guess I'll need to find an interim book until that November release. 

 

10.4.22

Kids were home yesterday for a teacher workday, so today is my "Monday"-- the fresh start to a new week. I relish the solitude in the morning, when the day is ripe with potential and the sun is fresh and bright. Today I drove to a nearby neighborhood to take my walk in a new setting. This was the neighborhood I used to drive to to take Lucy to her first preschool, a home preschool by Tassa B. That was such a sweet time for Lucy and for me. Our Parents as Teachers educator lived in this neighborhood, too. Probably still does? I hoped, more than a little, that I might run into her taking her own walk on the same streets today, because I remember she used to take her dog around her neighborhood all the time. Alas, no sightings today. But I got 2.2 miles in and opted to not check my progress at all until I was done, jst letting the streets and my audiobook lead the way. I am 89% done with Pet Sematary, and it is smack in the middle of the climactic last bits, and it's chilling and gripping and so so well-written. I have thoroughly enjoyed this audiobook experience!

10.11.22

I had my first chance to hold to my promise to myself that I would take a daily walk no matter what the weather. This morning it is rainy rainy rainy. Temps aren't bad--- high 50's-- and it's not pouring buckets... It's just a steady light-to-medium rain. So I put on one of Joe's baseball caps, grabbed my new workout jacket, and headed out. I decided to try to get to my goal-- 30 minutes-- but not push further than that. With the exception of a handful of minutes where the rain got heavier and I paused under a tree, it was generally pretty easy and pleasant. By the last quarter of my walk the brim of the hat was dripping, and my long-sleeved arms were sort of chilly from the damp. But I did it! And I would do it again-- no big deal! Upon reaching home, I made sure to stuff my slightly-damp shoes with newspaper so they're ready and dry for tomorrow. And I needed to change out of everything, including the underthings, because it was all dampish. And that is the report of my first rain-walk. 1.8 miles and feeling great!

I'm Sad That:

 

 

Years ago, when I was reading a lot of S.A.R.K. books (I still love that crazy gal!), I came across an exercise she talked about frequently doing in her journals called "I Want". Basically, you sit with blank paper and pen (or colorful markers if you wanna be like SARK), and just open up your heart and imagination and let yourself scribble down what you WANT... Anything from immediate needs like "a snack" or "a hug" to wild imaginings like "an apartment in Rome" or "gossamer wings". You just let go and write. I love this exercise and I've done several of these lists of my own over the years, including more than a few here on the blog. I will always write these lists, I suspect. They are such a good place to center your heart, to check in with yourself, to dream a little, and to be a kid again. 

Well, the other day I was taking my daily walk, and I was feeling all kinds of feelings, and they were generally wistful and melancholy, and I was letting the walk absorb these waves of feelings... breathing deeply and looking for signs of autumn color... when I saw a group of boys ride by me on their bikes, caught up in the beautiful weekend morning sunshine. And a thought came to me so sharply: I am sad that my kids never became bike riders-- not in the way these boys were...riding bikes in a gang and having the ultimate freedom to roam neighborhoods and fly down hills. And this one distinct thought, a palpable expression of my sadness, became the first item on a new sort of list. Instead of a whole stack of "I Want"s.... I pulled out my phone and began a list of "I'm Sad That..."

Maybe it's not the same kind of healthy exercise that the "I Want" list is... But maybe it kind of is? Either way, it became a tender catharsis of the feelings that had been building up all morning, and it felt good and right to let them live on "paper"... to take them out and examine them a little bit in the light of day. The more I walked, and let myself feel, the more of these little thoughts would drift in and I'd add them to my list. It wasn't a deluge of bitter thoughts... just one thought here, then a few minutes later another.... Just little hurts that rose up as I was already feeling raw and open. Ultimately, I ran out of items to add, and I ended my walk by listening to a gorgeous song my friend Micah sent me the day before, Brandi Carlile's "This Time Tomorrow (In The Canyon Haze)". I'd never heard it before, and it was perfect--finally breaking open that buildup of moodiness in me-- and I cried as I stood by my parked car. A good cry. A cleansing wave. 

And then my car wouldn't start and real life crowded back in, and that was that. Isn't that just like life? Ha.

Anyway... I don't know if it's too personal to actually post my list, but it's my blogjournal, so I'm gonna do what I want. Only 5 people are reading this, anyway, and you are all people I love, and I know you know me well... We've probably talked about a few of these in person anyway!

So it's cool. Here we go.

I’m sad that:

• My kids don’t ride bikes
• I don’t have a big lovely front porch to put chairs on and decorate for seasons and sit on in the evenings
• We can’t afford a new car
• Joe is trying so hard to repair the dryer and dishwasher and they are still not quite there
• Joe is going out of town twice this month
• Friendships fade
• Noah is aging out of trick or treating 
• I don’t play the banjo anymore
• I can’t have a carb free-for-all anymore
• The pumpkin patch costs so much to visit!!
• We can’t keep things close forever
• I left my wireless earbuds at home today
• The sun is already setting too soon
• Instagram took the sound off of some of my reels
• They keep growing up
• Quinn’s betta fish kept dying
• I’m crabby when I’m hot
• Cross country didn’t “take” for Noah
• I never put Lucy in dance class or something like it
• I don’t think my kids have a “bestie” or tribe
• I have so much “stuff”
• I’m not good at gardening/yard work
  

See? Nothing earth-shattering.... Just little wishes and teeny regrets. Honestly, it's kind of nice to know that there's not anything really devastating on there. It speaks to a life that is mostly so very blessed. It's okay. And I'm okay. 

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