Everything But the Task at Hand

...sometimes that's what working on my thesis looks like.

My house is never cleaner than when I am not (yet) writing.

Although on the flip side, there is, I've come to realize, a danger to getting a second wind in the evenings. More schoolwork gets done, but less sleep. The next day, my emotional resilience is compromised, and I'm less likely to do any writing. So it's a question of balance. I may never be a madly creative "successful" genius. I care about sleeping too much. Ahh...sleep...beloved sleep...

Not Swearing In, Not Swearing Off

I was called to appear for possible Jury duty this morning, and after a couple of hours of waiting and watching others go through voir dire, I was among a group of about twenty people who were excused.

So of course I went to work for a couple of hours after that. I know people who would have tried to get out of jury duty, or tried to get on the jury, or would have at the very least taken advantage of the day to not return to work. But as I've said many times, this country asks so little of its citizens, it seems ridiculous to try to squirm out of jury duty. Besides, it makes for even better people-watching than airports. And as for not taking more time off - well, we have just too much work to do in the office for me not to have gone back in.

At least the day ended both productively and creatively; after picking S. up from school and running a quick grocery errand, I headed back to Novato for the second time in the day to a poetry-writing group. Good tea and delicious birthday crumble, excellent company and an hour straight of much-needed writing. Thus the "not swearing off" portion of this blog entry title. Tired as I may be, I did not swear off the truly important work of the day!

Anticipation

What is it I've been waiting for, and am impatient about not yet having?

More importantly, what have I missed because I haven't been paying attention to what I already have?

If This is Fifty

...then Fifty feels great. I was spoiled Thursday at work with presents and honey-bee lemon curd honeycomb-shaped cupcakes. And today was wonderful. An indulgent breakfast, good coffee made by my husband, a great phone call from my birth dad,  a dip into a poetry book, then the triple play combo: haircut/massage/facial (such decadence!), then driving in the areas east of town where D. & I would love to have a house with a few acres, just scoping out the not-yet-possible. Incredible churro cheesecake made by N., bumming around with the kids...I also got some hive watching in (nothing says happy birthday like healthy bees) and a walk with the dog in the dark. Surprisingly, I had next to no desire to binge on food today - instead, I honored my body. [Um. Except for the bacon/donut breakfast and cheesecake dinner...] But when I had a choice of drinks, I mostly wanted (and got) a green vegetable juice. And I didn't buy any candy or down a bunch of booze. I do want this mortal coil to last as many more decades as possible before I shuffle it off!

I am so very, very grateful to the many - certainly more than 50 - people who have touched my life in positive ways! Both sets of parents, all my siblings, my husband and children, all my family & friends & mentors....so many truly wonderful human beings. I am blessed.

Besides, you gotta love a kid that puts 4-0 on your 50th birthday cake....

Day Two

The cookie dough and wine were a bad idea. I felt sick all night and on edge until after noon today. Lesson learned!

Today I continued my birthday weekend fun by taking Tango to the dog park, taking myself and S. to the chiropractor, and then S. to a bass lesson. While she had her lesson, I wrote. Back home, I weeded like a crazy woman, then cleaned house and made dinner. Then worked on my thesis.

I have just over two more hours to be in my forties but I think I'll have to hit the hay soon.
Here's to the last decade! It's been a good one.

Let the Spoiling Begin

Stage one of my pre-birthday self-pampering spree has been completed.

After working 6am-3pm and picking S. up from school – the last day of the first week of the penultimate year of H.S. – I got a pedicure, and then a manicure (which I very rarely do) and then had my eyebrows shaped. I think it’s only the 3^rd time I’ve tried that last activity.

I said "thank you" in Vietnamese at the nail salon and "thank you" in Hindi at the brow bar. What does that indicate? It indicates that women whose first language is not English were working in jobs to pamper those who can afford such unnecessary indulgences. I have all sorts of mixed feelings about this - but apparently, not enough discomfort to stop me from going, and from taking advantage of the opportunities for language lessons. 

I also had red wine after more than a week of abstinence, and ate the evil pre-packaged cookie dough that Safeway now carries for people like me who prefer it raw. I also chain-watched Parks and Recreation with S. until I fell asleep on the couch. Hmmm. Let the weekend begin!

Thursday at Falkirk

Tonight my eldest (now going by N.) went to hear my friend Jodi and four other poets read at the Marin Poetry Center in Falkirk. The reading was good, and I especially enjoyed Jodi’s ekphrastic poems and the Blodeuwedd poem she dedicated to me. 

The last reader, Sara Berkeley Tolchin, was a real find as well. I bought her latest book  - and then, when N. and I had gotten into the car to leave, and I was kicking myself for not having asked the poet to sign the book, N. empowered me by grabbing the book and running over to the Sara, two cars away in the lot, before Sara could drive off. My child is not an introvert. 

After an awkward chat about the urge that we apparently both get to duck out of poetry readings as soon as they're finished – so many people! – she signed her book with the great inscription: “To Rebecca. I’m glad you asked!” and added the date. 

I like the idea of adding a date, or place, or both, when an author signs a book. It helps seal the moment in history, even if the book ends up in the hands, someday, of a total stranger. Not that I plan to part with her book – it’s just that I’ve come into several autographed books whose (to me) slightly cryptic inscriptions always inspire me to think of a narrative. It’s a habit, that making up a back story based on snippets of information....

Compassion

I'm looking at ways to have more self-compassion as my 50th birthday looms.

On the one hand, I'd like to spoil myself and celebrate. On the other hand, I find myself experiencing moments of profound disappointment in my life. I think I shall write down a list of what is working or has worked, what is not working, and how to change that. Elsewhere. Who needs to see that posted on the internet?!

Tied to self-compassion is my capacity to care about others. I am able to care for others, and to care about caring about others. But that's still one step removed from the real deal.

I appreciate what I just heard Dr. Rick Hanson say about compassion - that one can feel compassion for someone in a difficult situation, even if one is powerless to help with that situation.

But I also appreciate the idea that very small acts of kindness and compassion still contribute to easing the suffering in the world as a whole. Very Buddhist, I suppose. But only in terminology. Not in its concept.