I am not profound today, though it's not zeroth

Today is .... the second day of following my new year's resolutions (OK, I did not yet do the 11 minutes of exercise, but I do plan to vacuum!)..... and it's sunny, rather warm for this time of year, and I accomplished, oh, about four things on my Do-List!  I am struck or stalled by a claggy feeling ("claggy" from Monroe the British version of House, meaning to feel thick, slow, languid, & lazy) that I shall ascribe to the old effects of aging in general.   And before anyone says, "Awww...." let me direct to this upbeat take on the whole situation:  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3tMyNhTAFoU

Today is.... a day when I have to get the right DATE matched to the DAY and create a new sylly.  So I need to be able concentrate and focus.  Though I am claggy, I am not experiencing zeroth, which is the state or attitude of zero (from the 365 New Word A Day Calendar!).  I have done a bit of dishes, counter-wiping, laundry, and taken down Christmas.  I trimmed my bangs and plucked some whiskers.  And I did answer an email and set a birthday card in the outgoing mail pile.  So, things do get done --- just with less enthusiasm and energy.

Today is........ a really wonderful day.  I'm alive, sober, still breathing, loved.  I have a great stack of fascinating and fun books to read.  I own a quality vacuum cleaner.  The aphids seem to have left the amaryllis (cold coffee grounds and herbal tea bags - works every time!) and I think I saw a snow bunting!  The end of the world is, perhaps, always near:  when you fail to see the wonders of today, or the benefits of holding on until tomorrow, then it really isn't worth continuing.  It is -- every day -- a new chance to do it better.  Anne H. said last night, something like, "Even if I do it wrong, if it's the right thing, then I am doing it right."  

One very good thing about getting older is that I usually, almost always, know what is the right thing to do.

The last day of 2012: we're still here!

It is sunset on the Big Muddy, on December 31, 2012.  Time to get started on the new year resolutions!  It's mostly a re-do, or DittoDitto list:  quit smoking, start exercising, lose 10 pounds, teach better, learn to sew, make more dates with friends........ grow more tomatoes, can some beans, harvest  broccoli....... get another dog, take a train ride, clean the basement.............same old same old.  

Perhaps the whole idea of new year resolutions is that it is a new year. Toss out the sense of failure, do the hokey-pokey, and turn yourself into another year of learning.    I heard a great story on the radio, about the Mayan "end of the world" calendar   http://thestory.org/archive/20121211_The_Story The_End_of_The_World.mp3/view     and how the "end" was simply the end of the year -- though their year was a bit more than 365 moon-circling days.  It was not the END of the world, but the end of the old, the tattered, the worn, the sense of failure.  It was not really an ending type of end, but a beginning type of end:  turn around, do the hokey-pokey, and start over again, refreshed and renewed!

Hubby just came home from work, to an ethusiastic greeting from Bob, the dog:  the day starts over for the dog when we are again all together (he can't remember breakfast).  I could take a lesson from the dog: be ready, at all times, for a new day!!!

And the sun has sunk a little further.  The sunshine on my computer screen is dappled by the willow tree, outside, and the hibiscus bush, inside.  The day is ending.  The year is ending.   And there's so much to do....

So, until tomorrow!  

It's never ever too late!  Happy New Year!

Hoppy Easter!!! April 8th, 2012

10:30 AM CST. Four cups of coffee. I watched Charles Osgood play an old song on the piano, wearing a bowtie printed with jonquils. I read another chapter of Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, the one where she shares the coming of spring in their new mountain home, and the "TRANQUILS" that her daughter saw in the garden. I planted, this morning, the hen-and-chicks that the Ettrick bread-angels brought last night when they picked up this week's shipment -- bound for Barron and Bloomer, via the children who are coming home for the holiday. It took me more than fifteen minutes to figure out what to wear to an Easter dinner with the in-laws: the closet is still filled with the blacks & browns of winter, and the winter butt requires me to eliminate a few spring-like skirts, and it's 60 degrees now but predicted to hit 40 degrees by dark.... Hoppy Easter! The sun is shining, and Hubby just bought his fishing license. Spring is truly sprung......... ok, maybe we'll get a little more snow..... this is Wisconsin, after all!

I shall not share here the musings on the meaning of the religious "EASTER" that have flitted through my mind: too much like preparing for the Chapter 13 lecture! But I shall say this:

When we had young children at home, and Easter baskets, and an Easter dinner, it was a different sort of day. Oh, my! And, many of the years, the snow was still piled deep in the places where the snowblower had thrown it for the winter's six months, and crocuses tried their inspiration darnedest to put their colorful heads out where we could spy them, contrasting with wet dark leaf piles or dirty icy snow scraps. I remember the year that River ate the eldest child's Easter candy; and the year that I set up an Easter egg hunt in the house and found the last few about July, covered in ants that trooped in through the cracks in the window frame; and the annual whining from Hubby about green plastic Easter basket grass that clogged the vacuum for months (years?). I remember a driveway covered in "art" drawn with Easter gift chalk, books never read, school supplies lost in a drawer, and discussions about whether or not one should or should not eat the chocolate bunny's ears first.

Gotta go!

April 6th: "Good" Friday and a good FRIDAY (TGIF!)

Good morning! It is a beautiful day in my neighborhood! No school bus went by the house today so both the dog and me slept in. Today's plan: clean my office, watch a movie and do the ironing, catch up on grading and recording students' efforts............

An email from Dad was in the inbox this morning, and I pasted here the redacted version plus my reply. I am old and I fear for my country. There are voices of reason -- this is one I've heard -- (http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2012/04/stop-romanticizing-the-tea-party-movement/255530/), but they seem to be tiny voices, poor people's voices, veiled voices, and an echo in a vaccuum (can that exist?).

On the other hand (a sunny day breeds optimism), our country has been in a philosophical pickle before, and survived. According to Marx, conflict will result in resolution, and the new society will look very different from the old stratified and segregated version; so what's coming? I am old and eager to see (parts of) the future!

You see, it's never the environment; it's never the events of our lives, but the meaning we attach to the events - how we interpret them - that shapes who we are today and who we'll become tomorrow. Tony Robbins



Dear Anne --
My classmate, from kindergarten through 2 years at UW-- was defeated in Tuesday's election. The Tea-Party is in the small towns of our nation.

Dad

from the classmate, aka "Ex-mayor" ---
Friends--
You may now refer to me as ex-mayor (not a lot of pizzaz in that title). I got beat 935-921 in a race featuring the Wisconsin primary contest between Romney, et al. Even local politics has become partisan. My opponent [is] a very nice guy married to J ---, [and] was the benefactor of the conservative vote. I knew the situation was going to be a problem for me, but I did not respond well. I was over confident, thinking I would win anyway. Bad mistake. My closest advisors and political friends shared my optimism. My opponent did not work hard, had few signs, was very low key, did not in all our common appearances appear to think he had a chance (was he more clever than I thought?). So I responded in kind-- about the same no. of signs, no real extra effort on my part. Result: a loss.

Lesson learned: work harder, a maxim that will serve me well in my 80's. (:

I loved being mayor!


I replied to Dad:
Dad --
I am saddened… and [the] last sentence is the epitome of the citizen-politician! Rumors are flying that the Republicans [here] will put fake Democrats in the recall primary. I just finished a week of lecturing on Chapter 11:Politics and Economic systems, in sociology – we create social institutions like “governments” to serve our society, yet the people we have been elected have lost sight of their purpose and become maniacal and egotistical, and detached. [Hubby] and I watch waaaay too much politics, plus we both listen to NPR – when I see the blank “YahdahYahdah” faces on too many of students, I understand why the Tea Party, as unofficial as it is, has gained so much traction: “Tell me what to think” say our voting adults, and the Tea Party candidates oblige.

Annie

April 5th... missed a day

I missed yesterday's opportunity to share something about my life.... I'm reading Farley Mowat's Never Cry Wolf (again), laughing out loud (again) at his rye and ribald humor. I am struck, too, with new awareness, that he is speaking of himself as a very young man, from the lifestage of being an older man. How much can we see -- and understand -- when we look back at our lives? I guess that is part of what I want to do this year.

Today, however, and right now, I look forward: another chick is leaving the nest ---- with my car. She's got riders to share the price of gas, and doesn't even know them except as email communiques. She's going to three big cities in the state, to re-connect with friends who are, as my BFF is for me, both mirrors and cheering squads. I can't worry about the chick: what will happen, will happen; chances are that nothing will happen other than a dose of self-confidance. So, instead I'll worry a little bit about my car.

Dancing.... with famous people.... on television....

April 3rd. Tuesday is a day of driving (which means, lots of public radio!!!), and today includes voting. I haven't decided who to vote for, so I'll give my mind the day to sort it out, and then share. In the meantime, I received an email-forward yesterday from Cousin Kim -- who is just one day older than me!! -- and, though I don't watch the show called Dancing with the Stars, the 4-M's Theory of Happiness sounds like a good idea............

1. Mindset -- The professionals and the guest stars of the show report that they consciously and consistently choose thoughts and feelings of optimism, positivity, gratitude, and appreciation. They know that a high-energy mindset translates into a great performance.

2. Meaning -- The dancers feel inspired by what they are doing. They're focused on something that is purposeful and meaningful to them. They always speak about the joy that they experience being on the show.

3. Movement -- Moving the body is good medicine. It produces big doses of happiness chemicals, and counteracts the stress chemicals that produce doubt, fear, and insecurity.

4. Membership -- All the dancers and all of the watchers are part of a like-hearted group: we feel connected to others, having a good relationship, and experiencing a sense of belonging -- all of which are fundamental to living in a state of happiness.

The email writer, "Marci," suggests that we USE the 4 M's:

A)Check out our mindsets and schedule THANK YOU moments during the day,

B)Complete this sentence: "My life feels meaningful when I __________," and then actually DO the activity in the sentence,

C) Stand up and stretch -- now, dance a little, get some outside fresh air, shake your bootie (OK, I said that part)

D) Connect with people who share your values, volunteer, join a group, take a class.

And, "Marci" says you can find her on Facebook! (one more thing to do on my list).

April 2nd 2012 -- I'm still 52 years old

This was a work day: I sat at my desk for more than half of my waking hours. If it wasn't for Mitt and Ann Romney calling, I might not have stood up and moved until Hubby got home! Dog and Hubby and I worked in the yard for about two hours, cleaning up the willow's weeping, the proof that Maximilian sunflowers are prolific, and discovering two plum babies worth saving, three asparagus, three quince in leaf, four currants, and leaves on the Manchurian apricot and the pear trees. Lovely day (partial day) in the sun, committing purposeful work that burns calories. Dinner was chops on the Christmas gift grill and another steam-in-the-bag (love those!). Now, back to work until my favorite t.v. shows come on.

This was a normal day. A workaholic's day. A regular (this semester) Monday. A day when I think outside of "me" and think about "me" as a purveyor of truths and questions to ponder. When the piles of ungraded papers get high enough to topple, I ask myself -- quick, before the students ask! -- what is the purpose? And then I grade some of those papers and realize what students MAY learn from the homework: to read the directions, to follow a rubric, to read critically and for meaning. It's not the points -- though you can't convince them of that! -- it's the action, the purpose, the implicit message of homework: do your best. I hope students discover their own personal best! W. Edwards Deming wrote and lectured about a person's perception of intrinsic quality, and William Glasser took the idea into the schools. How do you teach a student about his or her own personal best? How do you say, with the teacher's red pen, that this is good, and that is, like, lame-o? What sort of homework makes a student excited, engaged, and contemplative, about self, talents, goals, and a sense of one's own "best" work? This was a normal day: I asked the questions and found few answers. I am a plugger!!

I cannot reach my toes.

In the photo, Dad, brother, Grandmother (never "Grandma" and "G.G." to my children), me about age 9, Mom. I can't tell where we are.... I have great legs! A tomboy's legs. Nice shoes! And dig that jacket on Mom! Retro rules: fashions always come back. I may never again, however, wear a dress that short.

April 1, 2012

Today is the day after my birthday. I'm 52 years old. I spent my birthday with my BFF in our usual pursuits: breakfast, plants & planting toys (aka tools), and junking -- and I came home with a tropical, green & red plant that I don't know the name of, and two new pots, and three books, and some rose-scented soaps. Today somehow got a little bit lost, and only now, at 10:00 pm, am I starting on the Do-List! I read, and took a nap, ate two meals, updated the flowers in the bathroom (lilacs about to pop and a pink tulip), did the laundry, took the daughter back to her college dorm, explored the bushes for sale (on sale!!!) at Shopko.....

I'm feeling a bit melancholy. Reading Wallace Stegner's The Spectator Bird will do that to an old lady. Though his character is in his seventies, the litany of sore joints, aching muscles, and worry are beacons and heralds. As Mr. Fuget in The Forgetting (PBS) says, "The future is not someplace I'm rushing to get to." I speak to my students, often and with deliberate exaggeration, that I am old; and so I am, in contrast to their 18-year old attitudes and fashions, hobbies and biorhythms. But I'm not as old as Joe Allston, or as old as Mr. Fuget. And I should stop -- in my own best interest -- thinking like that!

I do feel that a certain amount of "Now or never!" and "If not now, when?" and so I have made some resolutions. I avoid New Year's resolutions -- they are guaranteed to fail, based on past history. Birthdays are a better date for looking backward and forward, and assessing the damages and the possibilities. I look forward to my March 31st birthday with a little girl's glee, anticipating fun and cake and presents! And I look back at the day with reminiscence, nostalgia, and reflection. Each year, looking backward on April 1st, I seek to learn from myself what I am supposed to be doing in the next year.

My husband told me once that he schlepps through life. Apparently, I schlepp, too, and I look back at the schlepping with guilt for all those lost opportunities, the wasted time, the roads not taken -- because something more fun in the short term, or the greater obligation, beckoned me down the well-trod path. Humph! And, humph! again. It is time to take some control over my life!

So here is the list of resolutions; no more schlepping!. They are based, I see, on making my mark on the world, and they are seemingly founded on the idea that I am -- though old and full of regrets, or though fundamentally a schlepper -- not ready to die. We'll see. I've never had much luck with these resolution things. But, the first one on the list is TRY.

1. I'm going to try and do a Julie-Julia blog and write every single day this year. What will I discover about myself? I'll try to read something that provokes thinking about BIG IDEAS every week, and I'll share all my favorite books and movies --- those titles, characters, scenes, and plot lines that I toss out during lectures when the black-on-white powerpoint is failing to keep the youngsters engaged (more and more, though, the movies are "heard of" but not seen, so the attempt falls flat and I am forced to Youtube -- a new verb in my lexicon!). The sharing and subseqent sense of discovery is not for you, the reader, but for me, the reader, next year.

2. I'm going to do yoga every day. It is not Pilates-style, and I will not attempt the Zoomba, but I think I want to re-discover how my bones and muscles are connected. If health improvements come from this, or I lose the mid-life paunch, so shall I be blessed. I think I just want to be able to brag that I can reach my toes when standing up, at age...55.

3. I want, I want, I want, to be a creative person! Why? I want to be perceived as deep and provoking, as talented and insightful, as an ARTEEEST. I want to make heirlooms that my children will treasure. I want to be able to answer "Yes" when I'm asked if I am as musical as my husband and son; I used to be. Perhaps all I shall succeed at is cleaning the cupboards in the laundry room, tossing out the ruined photograph-gift cards, or using the fabric scraps as rags when the dog is incontinent. But, the resolution is to try...... images will be posted! Ha!

4. There is a stack of books to read by my bedside, and another in my office, and another shelf in the guest room, groaning with potential. Though my birthday present from Hubby was a small-size HD TV, with a DVD integrated, and the cable to connect a computer... I need to schedule reading time. Fix the hammock. Make that treehouse. Retreat into intellectual discovery.

Not a big list and I'm sure I can add to it as I go along this year. I'm going downstairs now to attempt to make paper-pots with the toy/tool that BFF gave me last year on my birthday; I will take it out of its box and read the directions(!!!). Tomorrow I will plant seeds!?! And roto-till the carrot bed??!?! And finish grading those sociology papers........

Maybe the biggest resolution is to stop thinking that I can't or mustn't or won't, and be brave and reckless. Youth has the advantage of not being able to see very far into the future. I was once brave and I was often reckless. Then I grew up. How much did I lose when I grew up? I'll try and find out this year.

Still getting older...........with a Best Friend Forever

I spent yesterday with my BFF. We have known each other for 32 years! Amazing! We are the same (gardens, man-type preferences, favorite movies), and we are so different: she drives a Prius and uses a Droid, but doesn't have a Facebook page or a blog and can't use Powerpoint. We see each other about every other month, meeting half-way for lunch and shopping -- and giggles and sounding-boards. She reflects me, I think. I need her, often, to be reminded of who I was, who I am now, and how I got here. I hope that she will help me find my way back to who I was destined to be.......

I posed the "Annual Scrapbook" idea to her, that I got from Suzanne, who does it every year for her extended family. Suzanne sends out the email to everyone with a topic -- every month for a year -- and each person writes back with a story, a memory, a photo or two, and even another question. "What was your first job?" revealed that her aunt, now in her 70's, once worked as a secretary at a stockyard! For the Thanksgiving gathering, Suzanne simply copies/pastes all those emails (a few hardcopies are scanned in, and some people use Word or WPdoc) into a continuous script, then prints them out on cardstock as well as making a CD copy, and distributes them to "head of family." Everyone who chooses makes more copies and creates a binder for the collection of the year's stories.

Part of the emotional burden of growing older is the fear of forgetting. Perhaps those teenage dreams are now proved to be silly, and perhaps some doors to some alternate futures are really closed for good. But what if I can't remember my own lifestories that I'd want to share with my children (grandchildren) and nieces and nephews? I worry sometimes that without objects to hold and smell and squint at as mnemonic devices or touchstones the memories will -- if I am lucky enough not to have Alzheimer's corrosion -- simply float away or being pushed out by new thoughts. If I do not make a monument to my past, I will lose it.

When my mom died (two years ago now!) we ceased the Christmas gathering at her house -- so it's been almost four years since Mom's side of the family partied at her house, and it's been two years since I saw the Seattle nephews in person, and it's been more than 6 months since I saw the sandwich eaters of Madison. When we gathered at Mom's house, all of the adults fully aware that her clock was ticking, ticking, there were deliberate efforts to tell "Remember when...." stories about ourselves as children. Periodically, she would correct us, and frequently, Dad would chime in with a "I didn't know that!" There's something lost when the family linchpin dies, and something else later lost when the photos are in dusty boxes in the garage apartment.... (somehow, I have all the slides of childhood -- in the days before KodaChrome or Polaroid -- and Brother has Mom's organized and labelled photo albums). My family and I are not great telephoners, or letter writers -- though cells and email have given us so much Multi-Tasking opportunities that, on balance, we do talk more now than we did ten years ago. But the present doesn't seem, in my view, to have the same value or urgency as the past does. The present is mine, sayeth the busy lady -- and the past belongs to all of us. If we can remember it....

We need to gather, and talk, before all the nephs and neeces start bringing their own procreations to the party and start mistelling the family truths and myths. As I get older, it seems more and more important that someone else will tell, again, the story of the nose flutists in Leadville, CO, attracted to our campsite by Dad on the bagpipes. Someone besides me should laugh again at the story of Jeb and the vicious Bantam rooster -- who apparently hated the Vikings and the purple hat worn to the chicken pen...! Does anyone know why Mom said she always wanted to go to China? And how many people remember, with the same exasperated fondness, my grandma at my first wedding, in a cold church on a bitterly cold Saturday morning, dressed in long-johns under polyester slacks under her best wool suit under one of grandpa's coats? Really, my children should know how I met their father and he should tell them about the great ice-storm of the firstborn's first winter.

So, I have a bit of a conundrum: I can travel to and fro to create situations where someone starts talking about Those Days (I shall take a tape-recorder!), OR, I can sit here in a tornado of my own making, in a busy life of work and dirt and books and Facebook Scrabble games -- and start now to communicate the memories. Which ones? How? Memories or memory-making? Or is this just one more thing on the daily Do-List?

I'm 50. If I don't start now, I'll run out of time........ I'll start with the BFF. There is more value just for me -- and not all those other family members -- with BFF memories. I'll be selfish, and giving, in the same action! I'll find myself along the path to and from the past... (how efficient! how thrifty!). I'll start with The Story of The Rose, and then our first beer together, or dancing at the Rainbow, and then the Elvis impersonator, the house on Cherry Street, the Flying J Fiasco, .... and yesterday's adventure at the school house. I should write that one down right now.

Note to self: write in blog every week!

Time is flying!

When I was in fourth or fifth grade, and finally comprehended fractions, I figured out why the year had gone by so quickly: a year is a fraction of a life, and as you age, the fraction gets smaller and smaller! Well, that explains birthdays. But it doesn't explain how the clock these days seems to be juiced.

I wish to announce that I have just posted the final assignment in the second of two classes that I took on-line for re-licensure. When I took an adjunct teaching gig in another state (just across the river!) I had to compile the credential file -- and discovered that I was about to become un-licensed in June this year if I didn't hurry up and follow the rules! On-line was the answer (and I have been very very pleased with the set-up and with all that I learned). I signed up and paid the fee.... and then took on two more gigs. Life has been a whirl! There are seeds in seed-starter already dead or already showing root-compaction. The yard is raked (thank you, dear) and the flower beds look like dressed up chaos (thank you, daffodils). And there are at least four piles on the shelf of papers to be corrected (what was I thinking?!?!?). But the credits are done, and as part of this announcement, I declare them to be well-worth the time & effort.

Next on the list: apply for that full time job -- and also answer "YES" to an offer of adjunct work. Life is just a series of Showing Up, and the details (like how and when) will get worked out. I have faith in the spring: on the river, in my garden, and in my life.

Today, I splurged my time. I went shopping with a girlfriend who is a CPA -- we both stole time from other duties, and giggled and shared and got some new spring clothes! And, I went for a boat-ride in Hubby's new toy -- and we giggled and shared and made a new memory. It was a great day!

Now, it simply must be over. It's 10:30 PM. The dog gave up and went to bed. If it wasn't for the Brewers, Hubby would be in bed (he's involved in five separate Scrabble games on Facebook right now, but uses the Brewers as an excuse to stay up). I'm too old to stay up too late, and tomorrow's mental Do-List is long long long. And, I yearn to return to a re-read of Dick Francis's Bolt. Discipline: the key to aging gracefully and fulfilling all of your voluntary duties. Discipline says I must sleep now. Good night, moon!

Memory and Aging

You know, my greatest fear is losing my mind. I abused the brain cells for about two decades, but have spent the last two decades sober, clean, eating healthy (I'm on probiotics now!). I'm teaching memory tricks in one class, and Alzheimer's in another -- and reading lots and lots, and panicking. I didn't eat enough blueberries! I can't get enough Vitamin E (because it gives me acne). I don't get enough exercise, and there's very little weight-bearing in the winter. I hate Soduko. Am I doomed?

The research is still coming in but it's pretty conclusive: yes, I can do lots and lots to repair my brain and exercise my memory. And I could find out (for a fee) if I have the genes that will make it more likely (not "definite") that I may get one of the memory-impairing diseases. Would I want to know that statistical probabilities? What would I do with the information, if I was told at age 50 that I would be a veg by age 80? What difference would that make in my life?

I'm not sure I have time to come up with any answers. I have trouble remembering what day it is! And, that trouble is all of my own making: I work "too much" and I have "too many" thoughts in my head -- like the recent request for ideas from the Diversity in Education committee at school............ and the overflowing ironing basket............ and the need to transplant the single squash plant that is growing in the potting room...............

If I can figure out how to attach a file to this blog, I'll give you the National Geographic article on memory from last year. It tells a few stories of people -- and suggests that losing your mind, when you have lost enough to not know anymore that you are losing it, can make you happier --- and it summarizes the recent research.

Gotta go -- there's some almonds downstairs and I'm having sardines for lunch!

Time Management Skills (and choices)

My husband has said for years that he loves to see me in my working clothes. These days, the working-clothes closet does not include a uniform. But, the closet is still filled with working clothes (even the holey jeans on the floor: garden work). I work a lot. I like to work. I am a happier person when I have "work" that defines the calendar, structures my day, and brings me both a sense of purpose and a few accolades. Did you know that families are rarely aware of how the refrigerator gets filled, or how those shirts and dresses are ironed, or why the dog doesn't pee on the floor anymore? "Work" on the other hand, is more obviously an effort with rewards: paycheck, take-out once in a while, a mom who doesn't hover. Often, dinner is something from a can, and there is usually a list of chores titled "While I'm at work --." My absence is an adventure for everyone!

My problem, if there is one, is that I have no sense of balance. I seem to have lived much of the last few decades with a "When it rains, it pours" philosophy of work -- or work-karma. I am either unemployed (sometimes for very good reasons, like pending or recent childbirth) or rather over-employed (today, I could say that I have NINE jobs, since adjuncts are independent contractors, always). There were a few years when I changed clothes in the car or in the bathroom at work -- the beginnings of my life as a Bag Lady! Does working a lot make me rich? Not always. Does it make me happy? Yes. That's the great secret, or the confession to be made: I really really really
like to work, and working gives me more satisfaction than cooking, cleaning, or house-training the children and the dogs. There simply isn't enough joy in taking care of myself or my family to make the day seem well-spent. In my defense, I would not work this hard for no pay. Those who know me well, know that without work -- the pay, the structure, the sense of purpose -- I am NOT a happy camper.

I descend into some morass of fattening and fatalism, turning inward and then turning vicious -- to myself mostly, though the crankiness gets sprinkled on everyone. I seek always a purpose that will define me; I am a "Do-er" and not much of a "Be-er." While I heartily recommend self-reflection, and I have often indulged in the adventure of self-knowledge, generally speaking, I am aware that my Self does not provide me with enough material to last through more than a day or two. I need the action -- of chores, of work -- to provide my Self with definition and a reason for being. Reading, gardening, watching re-runs of British murder mysteries are escape strategies: escape from either chores or self-reflection.

So it's Sunday. I got up with the sun. There's homework to do (teachers go to school, too!) and more grading, and I must figure out the on-line grade center for that class.... and there's a party at GM's this afternoon, I want to start a few more seeds, and I really have to get to the ironing.... and I am happy.

Whew! Life's a whirl ---

It's Thursday, the day of FOUR classes in THREE different cities. In my workaholic mode, I said yes to new technological challenges, to subbing for the semester, and to more wage-earning assignments. I am home, for an hour, to try and figure out what happens next. I mean, next today! Things I've learned in the last busy busy week:

My husband only acts like a traditional husband because it appears that I not only have everything under control, but consider his input to be a spanner-the-works. He has, this week, shopped for groceries, made every meal but breakfast, left the garage door open and the walkway lights on for my late-night homecomings, cleaned the floors and folded the clothes -- and we've had that talk about "sharing" and what it really means. Technology -- email, cell phone -- has allowed me to parent, though I'm home actually less than she is! I really like working, at something that has obvious value; I'm continually improving my skills; I can learn new things (I skyped yesterday!!!!) and my learning process can serve as a model for others; and, I don't have to quit smoking today, I can do that tomorrow -- and I get more rest, relaxation, and serenity out of taking 5 minutes to not do anything, than I do out of a brownie, a nap, or a cigarette. I'm learning about myself -- some more new facets.

If this is aging, then I like it. Seeds are started and some are coming up already. More seeds (and trays, and a heat mat) arrived in the mail yesterday, so tomorrow night, I'll play in the dirt. The sun is shining and I am wearing greeeeeen.

Catching up and Catching your breath

I'm not a very good blogger, I guess. And my house isn't very clean. There is always something else to do! I just re-read The Razor's Edge by Somerset Maugham -- we were talking at Christmas with our young adult children about inspiration, guidance we found along the way, books about philosophy that weren't textbooks or non-fiction whatis-es. Zen and the Art of Motorcyle Maintenance is next: another re-read. Will it mean the same now to me, as a person, as an illumination on my soul, as it did when I was twenty? Probably not, but what will it mean to me now at age 50? I know that with time running out faster and faster, I probably shouldn't waste any on re-runs. But "aging" and how it alters my perspective on life is continually fascinating to me. I was deeply affected by The Clam Lake Papers and other books of that ilk. Then, I was seeking myself. Now, I have honed the ability to look at myself like a science project, a third-person objective view (on good days, I believe I have accomplished "humility"), though I am admittedly too-often shocked at that lady in the mirror! It is part of my science project to re-read a few books. I hope I kept Castenada's books --

My days are busy with five different classes, and I'm taking an on-line course for re-cert credits. I just watched a video of Tom Friedman explaining the origins and premise of his book "The World is Flat." The new world is here, and I am looking backward, still trying to figure out where I came from! Oh, my children, I fear that I have not prepared you adequately. And yet, as TF explained the "confluence" of fiber-optics and Smartphones, that contributed to our ability to act horizontally as manufacturers, and consumers, and inventory planners, on a global scale, I realize that the techie stuff he is talking about is not at all foreign to my children. They seem to choose, wisely and with confidence, what bits of tech they want to embrace: one child has an Iphone after months of research and surveying her friends, while the other two just upgraded to a keypad on their phones, or to internet access and those fees. It is I -- and my fellow elders -- who scramble just to know what the words mean!

That's today's musings. The weekend included a realization that the empty nest is not something to fear and that I intend to fill my time with plants and students and books, and that, oh yes: where does Hubby fit in? He missed out on a boat saleo on Ebay and drove 30 miles to a disappointing boat show. He must turn his back on the snow-covered river.... I'm hoping he'll turn toward the kitchen on a semi-permanent and regular basis....

My Greatest Fear (this week)

The book: Still Alice by Lisa Genova. A novel about early-onset Alzheimer's.

The back story: Last Saturday, I left the lights on in the CRV and it was dead when I got out of the grocery store. I had left my cell phone on top of the piano. At 9:00 AM, I felt fragile, tired, foggy. Because of store policy about liability, and my own fragile timidity, and the very strange circumstance of not knowing a single person in the store, I used the store phone to call roadside assistance ($3/ month well-spent). I had to wait an hour, and bought a book to pass the time. What attracted me to this novel? The subject: I teach about aging. I read and wept the rest of the weekend.

At my age, there are three, maybe four, reasons to lose a thought: age, multi-tasking, menopause, and, of course, Alzheimer's. The book -- with a rich resource file in the back pages -- makes it clear that only one of three genetic mutations may result in early-onset Alzheimer's. Since I have no blood relatives with Alzheimer's, statistically I am very unlikely to get the disease until I am really old. Comforting!

Yet, I wonder.... I am fascinated by aging, and determined to age gracefully and inspirationally! But there was that mis-spent youth.... How many times do I forgive myself for forgetting something? How frightened should I be when I spend a few moments not sure what day it is or to what school I should be driving? There is a sense -- today anyway, as I prepare for the first class of one, and the start of two next week -- that there is just simply no room in my brain for any other thoughts. I work. I keep the house standing. I eat and rest and take my vitamins. I take the dog out and generally have a few thoughts while outside about spring garden plans. But, the blog is put-off; re-organizing the bathroom is delayed; the ironing basket fills; a date with my husband just doesn't fit in the calendar. Friends? I have to make dates and mentally categorize them with "work" so I can find no reason to cancel a walk or a cuppa meeting. Is everyone's life like this?

The picture: my babies. They are all grown-up now: beautiful, successful, happy. I have to look at pictures to remind myself of what they looked like! That oldest child look of disdain, the lovely halo of hair that morphed into a Hawk, and the bald round girl who looks now like a California babe. The years fly by! Family dynamics change. I'll keep the pictures handy to look at, and crane my neck around the corner a new day -- and save some brain room for new memories.

Vacation: Be Gone!!!

It has been long enough. I am rested. I am fat. I am eager to begin new adventures in the new year! Today is the first day of the next several months of Scramble To Get Things Done: there's a lecture for tomorrow, a copy-center list for Thursday, a training.... and the ironing, the freezer repair guy, and walking the dog. I rather like Monday mornings!

Yesterday, I woke up thinking about that old job I was fired from. Depressing. Like a nightmare morphed into a daymare. As if I needed new reasons to beat down my burgeoning self-esteem. I still don't know why I got sacked -- the promised letter has not arrived -- and the silence from people I "knew" for three years is deafening. I'm sure that there are lies being told about me.... So early on a Sunday morning I stay there in bed, tortured, in despair. Oh, to see the truth!!! Is it possible I forgot something important, and forgot it so well that I still haven't remembered? Alzheimer's?!?!?! Is it possible that I was fooled by the social smiles of so many, and I was fired by a collective desire? I know that I'd be happiest to be emotionally done with it!! How long will that take? What would that take, I wonder? I imagine a contigent of apologists at my door and my queenly disdain in the face of their pleading with me to return. I got up. Coffee is needed. I can be sensible after coffee.

I've gone a week plus a day without a cigarette. When I start craving one, and the little Beast in my Brain starts the "yes, you can have one" muttering, I run up and down the stairs with an armful of wood for the fireplace.... puff! puff! (thank god, no wheezing!) puff! puff! QUIT! :)

Vacation included family time. I'll muse on that later, after I get the first thing done on my Do-List for Monday -------------- it's already almost 9:00 AM and I've been working for two hours with no crossing-off on the list!

Christmas

It's Christmas Eve. Will the dachshund talk? The birds are certainly quiet.... on the other hand, it's 10:30 pm and it's raining, or sleeting, or snowing (depending on where you're standing). The youngest slept all day and is not interested in putting out cookies for Santa. The older two have not called -- and I will, this year for the first time, text the kids e-a-r-l-y tomorrow morning! Hahaheehee!

I feel quite weepy, and it isn't all to be blamed on watching "It's A Wonderful Life" and the sappy Ipod and Support the Troops ads we had to sit through (no Hallmark this year - why?). I miss Mom in a life-is-changing sort of way. If she were alive, we would either be there, snowed in, or not able to go: drama drama. But when she died last fall, a six-year old (or was it 7?) tradition died, too. Last year, the middle child came home a few days before Christmas after a harrowing 72-hour train ride, and the oldest popped in on 12/25 for a bite to eat. Under the tree were presents that took a month to deliver, with all the comings and goings. This year, we have a young adult who is frustrated by the weather and prefers Facebook to old movies, and a 1-year old dog eating ornaments, and not so many presents to unwrap. This year, I feel old, or perhaps simply aging.

As I do most years, today I watched a whole day of "Seventh Heaven" and traditional Lifetime Channel holiday movies while I dipped the pretzels and frosted little Santas. Everyone on the tv goes through great effort to get home for the holidays. There's lots of talk about traditions, and "we always do this..." or "remember when that...". This nuclear family has never been too big on traditions, or simply not ever organized enough between changing jobs and changing family dynamics to set in stone the events that make up Christmas in our household. And, this year, I realize that we probably have lost whatever chance we had to give our children some sort of firm "So This Is Christmas." OK, there are a few things that seem to happen every year: I decorated the tree by myself, and baked too many cookies and wept through that old movie. I filled all the bird feeders in case talking makes them hungry. The youngest child opened her one allowed gift tonight. Tomorrow there will be, again, cinnamon rolls during the present opening and we'll eat turkey and all the trimmings (with potatoes from the garden!), and we'll take a walk around the neighborhood and probably play Scrabble.

But, the hubby and I will have to design some new traditions (or a decided lack thereof) for just ourselves. Pizza for Christmas Eve dinner? Or, turkey on Christmas Eve and pizza for Christmas Day? Let the children come to visit and be surprized!

I asked Hubby about that song -- you know, "So this is Christmas... let's hope it's a good one..." (Oko and Lennon) and now that song, with its description of holidays past and years to come, is melodying through my head. I feel old and sad -- like I'm at the end of a chapter. And, also I feel a teeny bit eager to see what happens in a week, when 2009 is over and 2010 has just begun.

Sunday Reflections

The snow is starting to melt, to compact: the drifts shrink and the deer's footprints show up as deep dimples. The birds are calmer: the warm weather lets them sleep, I think. Hubby is in front of two football games and I am working at my desk. He scraped the ice off the driveway, taking advantage of the warmth, and the time -- and announced that he was sorry to break the Sabbath but it simply had to be done. Where do these ideas come from, dredged up from a childhood in a church, but not reviewed or validation for, lo, these twenty (++) years? It's a good thing that Sabbath doesn't have the same meaning or social norms that it used to -- when else would I do the grocery shopping, laundry, ironing, clean the refrigerator, catch up on grading, update the lecture notes -- and fit in a necessary nap? Ah, the Sabbath! AKA: "Catch Up Day." We shall eat northern and hashbrowns in another hour.

I saw a church-connection at the grocery store, though really she has no connection with the church but with the "bread angel" business that was based at the church. She passed on some gossip, and I told her that I got a few calls when the ad for my former job showed up in the weekly paper. We will keep connected via phone and snail mail. The last three years had their value: a few special friendships that I know (now in my aging wisdom) are to be nurtured and maintained and not squandered or erased (as I am doing with any reminders of the old boss!). I had lunch with an old and re-found friend on Friday -- she thanked me about five times for making her leave her home business office and thereby preserving her sanity. Basically, she's not capable of taking a break by herself and needs reliable people in her life with whom to make unbreakable dates (good strategy!). Next weekend, I'll see Old BFF for our semi-monthly meeting; add a little Christmas and a lot of "Who am I now?" talk and it will be a valuable way to spend an afternoon. I discount the value of shopping together or a night of board games, I know, and perhaps I am not very good at the mechanics of friendship -- though I am well-aware of the value of my friends' reflection of me. My "looking glass self" seems to be going through some sort of a resurgent importance. I am getting lost in Who Was I and Who Will I Become, and these friends, the ones who have known me for 30 years or 3 years, are valuable for being a mirror. At this moment, I am centered and self-aware. At this moment, I like who I am. At this moment, I know exactly what will happen next in my life. I am not old enough or wise enough to be entirely comfortable with not knowing....

The Christmas presents are (almost) completely purchased and wrapped (!!!). I sent off small boxes of two or three wrapped gifts to the adult children in California -- for them to use in their own created holiday observances. We'll see both of them "sometime" over the college/holiday break, and I have a few gifts to go under the Home Tree -- so, the reward for moving away is TWO Christmasses! I must get to the store that holds the special request video and soundtrack for the youngest -- Santa comes to "children" under the age of 18, and she sent her "note to Santa" by email last week: I am the mama who will try her hardest to make wishes come true! And (I should probably make a list!) there must be turkey, and I have to move the houseplants, and where is that stand...... I resist the Christmas spirit that is flaunted right after Halloween but, now, with the 12-inches of snow on the ground (already shrunk to 9 inches), the spirit flares within my heart. I bought wreaths for the front door at the grocery store...... Happy Holidays! Whatever god you worship, whereever you may put up your tree, however symbolic that tree may be, may all the best of wishes that go with the NEW YEAR come true for you & yours ---

Dear Mom --

Dear Mom --
Guess what I learned this week!? I don't have to keep gifts from people I don't like (especially if they were grudgingly given). It really doesn't save any time or energy to shovel 12 inches of snow as it falls. The dog does grow up eventually and now likes snow! If you have a little faith in the grand scheme of things, life turns around and goes the way you want it to (two new jobs since getting fired!). Students love it when you wear blue jeans to class: the whole stockings&slip thing is a false authority - always knew that - and they equate Jeans with Real, which often changes the whole relationship. I've been married long enough to know that you have to stick it out during the bad spots (exception: violence) and a married couple should never embark on anything that will cost more than $1000.00 without conferring with each other. It is really important to support your partner in their obsessions, hobbies, and passions (after the $1000 discussion) because they will then believe that you want them to be happy, and they will respond in kind when you want to spend a little time or money on something they think is stupid (EA is going to own a new boat by Opener!! and I'm going to paint the laundry room). Even if all of my children live in California, I'm going to stay here where I have six whole months to plan the garden. And I know now that I will miss you forever. More later -- gotta go teach a little bit of what I've learned -- Love, A.

Employment & Life Change UPDATE

First, I'm so mad! I have been sinking into obsessive replays of the "We've decided to terminate you" speech, and rehearsals of the "You shouldn't do that because...." I sound a little postal. They did it all wrong and for all the wrong reasons! I never had a chance to defend myself! etc etc etc.

The re-directed thoughts include a mature look at the truth: I wouldn't want to keep working there anyway. Who wants to work when you know there are visual-daggers being aimed at you on the other side of the wall? I am going to do something vengeful, just out of pride and an inflated sense of civic responsibility. It may be complicated, like reporting their shenanigans to the Department of Labor. It may be simple, like bad-mouthing them around town. Or, it may be a combination, like carrying a protest poster along the sidewalk by the front door. I'm sure it isn't good for me to sink and wallow. I'm glad I'm older now and don't need to do that so much. I know, now, in the wisdom of my old age, that obsession doesn't get me anything other than an upset stomach, a little more acne, and too many minutes of functional cognition wasted. Looking at myself objectively and judging my behavior over the last week, I'd say that I am finally old enough to get fired.

And, there are so many other things to do.... Two new teaching gigs confirmed! Meeting tomorrow with new Dean to get textbook, tour, secret password, new email address. I just signed up for two continuing education courses: on-line, will meet both of my re-licensure requirements. The water softener is being installed right this very minute! A new garden catalog arrived Saturday.... The holidays are coming, and that includes a tree, special baking, a child visiting from the other side of the country, gift-exchanges with the BFFs, and the Christmas movie marathon on the Family Channel. Ahhhh... life is full. Gotta go: pizza's done.