Gratitude

For these I am thankful:

Oak leaves, laugh lines deepening on the faces of my friends, a body that works better than just well enough, the fire dancing in the fireplace, the finches with their laser gun conversations, November 1994 BonAppetit, Pandora riffing off of Dar Williams and Richard Shindell, the doctors and staff at UCSF, the lilt of the hills and language of Wales, Holtz's Jupiter, daughters more beautiful than any Spring I've ever seen, well-brewed coffee, the month of October, a partner who loves me, the key of D, poets who can and do, the One that made it all possible, and the ability to say "For this I give thanks."

One Quarter Year of Silence

July, August, September. They came & went, and I was here, doing something (primarily working, it seems to me. And driving kids around.)

But I wrote so little that it's only the weight of history and old habit - yes, I recall how to ride that bike - that tells me that I'm a writer.

It's an identity that I seem to have set down now for far longer than I'd ever expected I would, even with the new job and trying hard to stay present and available for the girls and D. Because even blogging was enough to satisfy that itch. And I haven't even done that. As is evident to anyone who might have been following this rambling record.

And it's an identity that I'm hungry to pick up again. I was going to start the day of my birthday (45 this year, since you asked). And when that day came and went, I thought of September first. Then October (blessed month during which I always write) began, and the writing didn't.

But I took a day off work today and I've had time with myself, and now I feel I can pick up the pen again. So to speak. I feel a little more in control of my life. Sorting through belongings can do that for you.

Here's a mildly humorous story. I had been very careful not to tell the girls that I'd be taking the day off because in the past, when they've known I would be home on a given day, invariably, one of them had taken ill and needed to come home early. And even a house with a child sleeping in a bed in a room behind a closed door is not the same as a house entirely to oneself. And yet, ironically, in spite of my careful stealth, R. called me shortly before noon to say she was feeling ill. She didn't want me to pick her up only because she hated to call me from work. And I couldn't lie and say I was at work - I just couldn't. So I got her. (I did take about 10 seconds to scream my frustration on my way north on the country road half-hour drive to get her. I don't think anyone else heard. And I actually don't care if they did) And then selfishly ran errands with her completely passed out in the car. She even slept through a trip to the recycle center. And if you can sleep through bobcats backing up around you and hundreds of bottles crashing into metal boxes of thousands more (broken) bottles, you're legitimately sick.

So the girls have visited the chiropractor, S. is rehearsing for Nutcracker for an hour, and I'm once again in the blessed sanctuary belonging to Peet, patron Saint of Caffeine-Fueled Writers. And all is right (enough) with the world. And what isn't right now, will be. Eventually. Even if it's geologically speaking.

There's a comfort in the shifting of continents, in theory. The shrug of the earth, settling like a great heavy beast into a more comfortable position. True, in practice, living in Northern California, it's a bit disconcerting. But what I'm trying to say is that forces greater than you or I are not bothered by whether the laundry is folded. And who's to say they're wrong?

May? What May?

May the blog-less month.

June, and rain. D says (pot. kettle) "Don't stay up too late," but then again, I'm slowly carefully re-engaging with my gmail inbox on a daily basis again, and posting here just because I can.

But oh! the rain!

I'll never get my garden in.

Caught up!

There. All caught up after all those bits and pieces of posts. The weight of not having written is just silly.

Saturday night we went to our friends' house for a Sharks game party. Such fun! I can see why those I know who love the game love the game...

Get up. Work. Go home. Repeat with Variations

Back to school for the girls after 2 weeks off.

R. has driven me twice now. Once to the local baseball field with S. & Tango in the backseat, and once to the gym. She's doing well, with only a few jerky starts & stops, and beginner's mistakes. I'm not sure how I'm doing...

Easter miracles

Had such a pleasant brunch at my mother-in-law's!

5 years

The anniversary of Mom's death. Five years later and I still once and a while think with a start that I've forgotten to call her. For so long.

In all of my dreams about my mom since her death - really, every one, as far as I can recall - she is traveling. Usually overseas. Often in Italy.

Good Friday

Every Good Friday, I remember my coworker Ken from the library walking home from the Marin County Civic Center to Petaluma. Along the railroad tracks. Remembering Jesus.

Payback. Yikes

Taking a day off work can have challenges associated with it. Playing catchup.

20 years and hoping for 20 more...

Happy Anniversary, hon.

16.5 hour workday - wheee!

I'm posting this days after the fact but pre-dating it for the sake of continuity. Yeah, that's it, continuity. Not trying to cover for my lapse or anything...

but after working two shifts - 6am-4:30pm and 7pm -12:30am, no wonder I didn't blog. I was trying to get caught up before taking the day off, and I was on a roll!

Whew. Can today be over now?

I'm torn.

On the one hand, each day is precious and a gift and I feel life should be lived to the fullest and I have so very many things I want and need to accomplish today.

On the other hand, I had a hard time communicating all day long, and I have been feeling deflated since 5pm and all I want to do is crawl into bed and hope for a better day tomorrow.

Maybe I need to be more attentive about taking my vitamins every day...

Happy Passover!

Sunday retro

The most I accomplished today was a 6-mile run and trip to OSH. That's about it, sadly. That, and a two-hour nap (after the hour + run)...

The downside, for me, of having a 3-day weekend is that a I invariably want a 4-day weekend.

Somehow, I'm better with only 1 or 2 days off. But I am looking forward to Easter weekend. Just because.

Snow White And Selected Works

Today there are two performances of the Petaluma City Ballet's latest production.

S. dances as a Celtic Maiden in one piece set to Irish music, which has a lot of attitude (we're talking leg positions, not the other kind). Then she's a demon in Snow White, working for the Queen. Very slinky and creepy and fun, she says.

But before that, she's at preparatory orchestra and sectional rehearsal.
I'll pick up R., who has been camped out at a friends house for days, and we'll go home, change, and head on over to the theater. This year we'll miss Petaluma's annual Butter & Egg Days Parade for the first time in many years, but I'm sure it'll be there for us next year.

I'm currently at Peet's, enjoying what is probably the highlight of my weeks: time alone with coffee (still decaf for Lent!) and my laptop, where catching up with non-work related computer tasks - email and the like - and writing (!) are made possible. Such a blessing.

Finished reading Pegasus by Robin McKinley yesterday. CURSE YOU, ROBIN MCKINLEY!

I had forgotten that it's a two-book story. I was in such denial that even two pages from the ending, I was happily thinking that soon everything was going to get resolved. Not. This, I now understand, is one of the great and terrible dangers of reading using your daughter's Nook. Even with little numbers on the screen to say how many pages you've read out of how many pages exist, you aren't holding the bulk of the book on the left with only the cover and a few slips of paper on the right to tell you there's no possible way the story can be resolved before the book ends. Serves me right for not supporting the author by buying her work in paper form.

Now I have to wait until next year to find out what happens to Sylvi and Ebon. Bah.

On a related note, here's a fantastic quote on writing from a Nanowrimo pep talk Robin McKinley sent last year:

Writing can be the worst, and often is—but it can also be the best. May you come out of that month knowing what you want to do next, and eager to keep going. Try to remember the peregrine days on the days that your husband/wife/roommate/dog needs steel wool to get you off the floor. And keep writing: the only way you can learn how your stories work is by letting them tell you. By putting live words together.

She inspires me. So do Laurie R. King, Gillian Bradshaw, Rhys Bowen, and Kate and Julie and Suzanne and Clare. If I remember that, and read not only what they write but also what they write about writing, it'll stand me in good stead.

A room full of no's

Apparently, that's what I got when I called in to work today to see if my department wanted me to come in, after all, because someone else had called in sick.

I could take this to mean they dislike my leadership and would rather have a cat's-away day. Or I could take it to mean they support me in having a day off to relax for a change. I choose the latter.

However, I realize that I carry work and other worries around me almost all the time. So I will need to learn to set things like that down more quickly and easily. And the way I operate, I will have to not worry about worrying to much. Jeez. And how old am I, and I'm still working on that one?

Ack! I'm melting...

What *is* it that makes me wind down so at the end of a day?

I really feel for all the world like my energy is being leached into the earth.

Low blood sugar? Dehydration? Stress? Or just coming down from the (off-the-wagon-confession alert) 2 cups of real coffee I had today.

Whatever it is, I can hardly keep my eyes open, and eating & drinking & going for a walk - not in that order - has not helped. Maybe I just need more sleep. Hmmm.

Will try to take tomorrow off work. In theory, I'm really doing it. In practice, it will be challenging.

Rite

R's just gone through a little modern rite of passage: she's passed the driver's permit test.

As she pointed out, I seem to think it's a bigger deal than she does.

Before the test, R. seemed so young. The DMV clerk sounded a little skeptical when asking for her age. But as R. stood in line to have the test graded, she looked so grown up, with her short spikey hair and modern-cut glasses, her brown leather jacket brightened by the colorful scarf she wove at school last semester.

I'm stealing a shot of hers to show the scarf. Without the leather jacket, hair & glasses like they were, you don't get the full effect. But I love that scarf. And the kid's not bad either...

Ganging agley

Well, that's embarrassing.

Makes me think of Burns.

I'm writing this Thursday, but am pretending it's Tuesday. Who's fooled, and who's the fool?

Walking the Talk

Here's where the tricky part of commitment comes in- sticking to it when you'd rather not.

So I will stay off the caffeinated coffee until Easter,
I will post this entry as part of my daily writing exercise,
I will go to the gym now, at 8:35 at night, for my 20 minute workout.

Where there were shoulds, let there be wills.

Belated Birthday Shout-outs

March 31st: D's sister and my biological father. (Um. Not the same person.) It always makes me smile that my first (birth) name was the same as that of my sister-in-law, who shares a birthday with my birth father.

April 8th: Two important friends: B., whom has the audacity to be living and playing all the way on the other side of the map lo, these last several years; and E., who has returned to southern California to start a whole new chapter in her life.

Four significant people in my life, and only one of whom I was able to (or managed to) wish happy birthday on said person's actual birthday.

And I don't think any of them are reading this blog! But I'm putting well wishes in writing and out into cyberspace anyway. As my beloved maternal grandmother always said - a phrase I have since made my own - "And many happy returns of the day!!"

Catch up - already!

Posting Friday's post Saturday and Saturday's post Sunday - doesn't bode well. But it's not enough to daunt or discourage. Onward!

I managed to get a chunk of yard work done today, although it barely put a dent it the weeds. R. asked me, "Why do you like to weed so much?"

"Really?" I replied. I mean, who doesn't like to weed? What's not to like? But I guess she was serious, and just as there are people who like to iron (I'm thinking of you, Kate) when I can't fathom ever liking to iron, apparently there are people who don't like to weed.

D. painted a wall in the livingroom he's been meaning to paint. We're working on the long checklist of things to do to get the house in order. It's a great feeling, working together toward a common overarching goal.

Fell asleep while the family watched Tales from Earthsea. I remember those LeGuin books being so very important to me around 8th or 9th grade. I loved them. But now, I can't remember the plot, the characters, the setting.... Maybe this is because I did not re-read them. But it was interesting to note that things that one can love can be forgotten so thoroughly.

Also, not knowing how closely or remotely the film followed the book means I don't have a way of knowing whether my inability to recognize the story was due to creative license or to early Alzheimer's.

Friday Retro

(posted Saturday morning...)

Yesterday's writing was only what was done at work, so the creativity was within the scope of business. Which is not to say it didn't engage some of the same parts of my brain as novel or poetry composition does.

Had a traditional Friday family movie night (we rented Tangled). And unlike many Friday movie nights, I stayed awake for the whole film before the inevitable snooze on the couch.

The rain that had been forecasted was mis-forecasted, thank goodness. I'll have a dry(er) garden to tackle this weekend. Looking forward to getting something significant done!

Friday Eve

The downside to posting late at night is that I've usually spent my quota of optimism by then. Left home at 7am, returned him at 9pm. Nearly 12 hours at work. I left with things still undone. But I love my job, and especially my new position. And I did make it home in time to check in with the kids on homework, distribute vitamins, tuck S. in, encourage R. to finish the project due tomorrow.

Going to bed "early" so I can get up early and do the things that I just can't face tonight, but which must be done before I leave the house again. Still won't get 8 hours of sleep, but it'll be nearly that. Hooray!

Is it Gratitude if there are qualifications?

So I'm grateful for every day I have here (ie., on this earth), and today was certainly not the hardest day I've ever slogged through.

There were even many little blessings: laughing with D. at the end of a long unload of our respective challenges, hearing about S. choreographing with her friends (to Laura Veirs' Wide-Eyed, Legless, nonetheless!), seeing R's cute super-short hair cut, and knowing that as frustrated about school as she may be (and oh, how she hates emails home from teachers with their concerns!), she is not giving up and not backing down.

But still, this is a day I'm happy to put to bed!

Tuesday Bricks and Birds

Left home at 7am, got home at 9pm. A long day, and not without its challenges. But I'm home, and there's that "Big Horizontal" piece of furniture that I love so dearly around this time of day. I love you, bed.

But it's telling (to me, anyway) that my first thought upon coming home, besides, "I'm done," is "I have to write."

So even though my daily creative writing snippets are no more than a few lines, and these blog entries are hardly more than that, I feel like I'm building brick-by-brick - okay, actually pebble-by-pebble. And you have to start a foundation somewhere.

Or, as Anne Lamott would say, "Bird by Bird."

Whirlwind year

This year has probably brought more changes in the first few months than any year I can remember. And it looks like the changes are still coming.

I suppose, as they say, even good changes can lead to stress. But so far, even though my head is spinning, I'm kind of enjoying the dizzy feeling that comes with it.

Hang on - wheeeee..!

Sunday driving

Beautiful day, but I spent more of it away from home than at home. The gardening, what there was of it, happened yesterday.

Today it was like this: get up, take the dog to the dog park, then me to the gym, a haircut, the grocery store, Peet's, home to pick up R. and D., R. to riding, D. and I up north for a drive. Then home briefly again, started a water change for the 400-gallon tank, off to get R. from riding, drop her off at home, down to work for an hour or so, home. Dishes still undone, writing put off to the end of the day.

However, the resolve for changes brought on by the good weather and April, is still there. Thus the writing, the gym, and a stick to healthy eating for today. I know all these will be a one-day-at-a-time thing. So, for today: check! done.

Q1

I'd never thought in terms of quarters before. I've never had to. Now, as a manager - and a sales manager, at that - Q1, Q2, Q3, and Q4 have been added to my regular vocabulary. Or at least the idea of them has.

Eventually, I may be able to stop counting months on my fingers to reckon when one Quarter ends and one begins. But for now I have to subtly move my fingers as though I were playing scales on an invisible piano while I think January, February, March. April, May June. It's the little tick I've been known to have when calculating how much sleep I'll get if I go to bed right now. D. has teased me about it for years. Fingers are handy, this way.

It is April. The rain has stopped, at least for now, and all the green blooming lift of Spring is evident everywhere: bursting up from the cracks between paving stones, and topping the trees along the streets in clouds of white and pink, and completely taking over our back yard. I can't fathom how much weeding and garden preparation lies ahead of me. And coming home when it's nearly dark during the week doesn't help. The few times I've arrived at the house when it was still light out, and not raining, I've grabbed the dog to take him to the dog park or have launched into dinner preparation.

So I've got this new lifestyle in mind: writing daily, getting the family to sit down to a healthy dinner before 7pm, regular visits to the gym, gardening. And I've decided the best strategy for make this lifestyle possible boils down to regimentation. Regimentation and revised priorities. Okay, so the two strategies for making this lifestyle possible are regimentation and revised priorities. And accountability. Three! The three strategies...well, at any rate, those are among the elements that I believe will make the difference between meeting my goals and just talking about my goals.

April Again

Okay, so no one said this would be easy, in spite of the ease with which I'd envisioned it: just start writing. Daily. As a practice.

In order to reach the goal of being a published professional writer (be it poet or novelist). Make writing part of each day. The start of the day, even. Something that happens from five to six before it's time to awaken the family and start that headlong hurl into the next fifteen hours.

But last night was a hard night, with nightmares and midnight anxieties. One of the dark times of the soul, for the few hours that it lasted. And so rising at five seemed, if not impossible, than at least very difficult.

So I told myself I would write tonight. And this, at least, I've done.