I didn't start walking until I was 14 months old. That's within the "normal" range but in our culture of recording every drop of milk taken in, ounce of poop excreted and developmental milestone ticked off the chart(hopefully before all the baby books and mom websites say it should happen), it's a bit on the late side. There was nothing wrong with me. My mom says I just didn't seem to have any interest in getting anywhere. She could put me on the living room floor with a couple of toys around me and go into the kitchen to make lunch and when she returned, I would be in the same spot. I had no need to be pulling on her apron strings nor to check out what was past the length of my arm. I think that I still exhibit a general contentment with my life and acceptance of the way things are.
Once I got on my feet, I developed like most everyone else - I enjoyed scooting myself on the trike bike, pedaling myself on a regular bike, and, eventually, driving myself in a car. The feeling of freedom that permeated my soul when I got my driver's license was indescribable. I didn't own a car but had rather generous use of my parents' cars. For years, I loved driving. I felt free, unencumbered, full of opportunity, and independent.
These days, driving a car feels like the opposite of what it once did. It doesn't make me independent - it makes me dependent on the car, which is built with computer chips and circuits that I'll never understand and could never fix if I needed to. It makes me dependent on the roads - where they go and don't go and whether they're jammed with traffic. It makes me dependent on maintenance personnel - to diagnose and fix chips and circuits and get to those darn spark plugs that car manufacturers now make unreachable with normal tools - who hopefully don't take all the money from my wallet in the process.
When I want to feel true freedom of motion now, I get on a bike. Bikes are still simple machines even as they incorporate new technologies. All parts are fixable with a little bit of training and a small set of tools. I depend on no one but myself when I ride a bike.
When I move my legs, I move the bike. I feel my muscle fibers contract and work together, my heart rate increases and my lungs suck in more air. I cover ground. I put space between where I was and where I am. My legs are the pistons and the calories I've eaten are the fuel. I feel the wind in my face. I feel the sweat down my back. I hear the vehicle engines around me and see people stuck in their climate-controlled boxes. I hear the birds calling. I smell the fields, each one surprisingly different. I tuck on the downhills. I stretch on the flats. I sing songs in my head on the uphills and push, push, push. I smile and laugh when I make it to the top.
My body gives up a lot of energy to ride a bike. My soul gains a lot of energy to ride a bike.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
When good fortune is a mixed blessing
I have a great job. I work part-time in a professional field which provides a rather large paycheck. I have the flexibility to say on any given day that I can't work because my son is sick or there's a snow day or whatever. I don't have to find a substitute to do my work for me that day, I can use vacation time or sick time or make up the time - whichever is easiest for me. I get to play ultimate frisbee during lunch. I can do my work from home when I want or need to. I can get full benefits (health insurance, life insurance, vacation and sick time) even working part-time. And did I mention that I get paid a lot and can move my hours around however I need to without much stress?
Let's say that I had this incredible job as described above but didn't like the work itself. And let's say that it wasn't just that the work wasn't enjoyable but that I was so disinterested in the work that it was nearly impossible to do my best at the job, to give it my all, to become better at it each day.
It seems pretty easy to say, "Suck it up and enjoy what you get from the job that benefits your family." It also seems pretty easy to say, "If you don't like it, don't do it. Find something else. The details will work out and you and your family will deal with whatever changes you have to face."
The problem is that acting on either response is not easy. Can you imagine trying to find a job that doesn't require a college degree in its field and that I would enjoy that would pay what I make now? Or that I'd be able to work part-time? Or that I'd be able to get up in the morning, hear that school is canceled for snow, sleet or hailstorm and just email in to say I won't be able to work that day and the company is totally fine with that?
Sounds impossible. And yet, I believe that people should try to follow their passion even if it means that material things don't come as easily. And that people should accept chances to stretch their faith and personality. So it sounds just as impossible to follow the "suck it up" response.
If I wasn't so fortunate to have an incredible job, moving away from it - hypothetically - wouldn't be so hard.
Let's say that I had this incredible job as described above but didn't like the work itself. And let's say that it wasn't just that the work wasn't enjoyable but that I was so disinterested in the work that it was nearly impossible to do my best at the job, to give it my all, to become better at it each day.
It seems pretty easy to say, "Suck it up and enjoy what you get from the job that benefits your family." It also seems pretty easy to say, "If you don't like it, don't do it. Find something else. The details will work out and you and your family will deal with whatever changes you have to face."
The problem is that acting on either response is not easy. Can you imagine trying to find a job that doesn't require a college degree in its field and that I would enjoy that would pay what I make now? Or that I'd be able to work part-time? Or that I'd be able to get up in the morning, hear that school is canceled for snow, sleet or hailstorm and just email in to say I won't be able to work that day and the company is totally fine with that?
Sounds impossible. And yet, I believe that people should try to follow their passion even if it means that material things don't come as easily. And that people should accept chances to stretch their faith and personality. So it sounds just as impossible to follow the "suck it up" response.
If I wasn't so fortunate to have an incredible job, moving away from it - hypothetically - wouldn't be so hard.
Monday, March 09, 2009
Conversation
Scene: Kevin and me lying in his bed at bedtime
Kevin: Mommy, *giggle* what if someone passed gas in someone else's face? *giggle*
Me: That would be very rude.
Kevin: Ok. But what if there was a small person and a tall person and they were standing in line together?
Me: *blink*
Kevin: And then the tall person passed gas and it was in the small person's face just because that's where they were standing?
Kevin: Mommy, *giggle* what if someone passed gas in someone else's face? *giggle*
Me: That would be very rude.
Kevin: Ok. But what if there was a small person and a tall person and they were standing in line together?
Me: *blink*
Kevin: And then the tall person passed gas and it was in the small person's face just because that's where they were standing?
Saturday, March 07, 2009
My maturing sense of smell
I hung some laundry on the line today. I don't have enough line space to hang much at a time so I usually leave the clothes for the dryer because it doesn't matter so much when they smell delicious and they're kind of uncomfortable when they feel like a board when we've grown used to them being soft.
As soon as the weather is nice enough to hang laundry outside (even if it's a warmer/breezier day in the winter) I immediately throw the blankets and sheets through the washer. When I bring them in off the line, I bury my face in them for 5 minutes to inhale their goodness. Then I make everyone else in the house stick their noses in, too. Then I spend a half hour walking on air with a ditzy smile on my face because I'm high on the smell of fresh.
When I was a kid, we hung miles of laundry on the line. And by "we" I do mean I had a big hand in that chore. For some reason, I forget how much I hated that now that I'm an adult and am making the choice for myself - plus there's not so much line to fill at any one time.
I sucked my thumb (and index finger) until I was 9 years old. My blankie was my lifeline. It smelled delicious in a different sort of way. My mom says it smelled like grunge but I prefer to think that it smelled of love. Love doesn't always smell of fresh air, though, and I HATED the smell of my blanket after my mom washed it. I tried desperately to not let her wash it and especially not hang it on the line.
I think that if I smelled that blanket now, as an adult, I'd think that it smelled good because my brain would remember. But I can't, for the life of me, imagine why anything could smell better than a blanket dried on the line.
As soon as the weather is nice enough to hang laundry outside (even if it's a warmer/breezier day in the winter) I immediately throw the blankets and sheets through the washer. When I bring them in off the line, I bury my face in them for 5 minutes to inhale their goodness. Then I make everyone else in the house stick their noses in, too. Then I spend a half hour walking on air with a ditzy smile on my face because I'm high on the smell of fresh.
When I was a kid, we hung miles of laundry on the line. And by "we" I do mean I had a big hand in that chore. For some reason, I forget how much I hated that now that I'm an adult and am making the choice for myself - plus there's not so much line to fill at any one time.
I sucked my thumb (and index finger) until I was 9 years old. My blankie was my lifeline. It smelled delicious in a different sort of way. My mom says it smelled like grunge but I prefer to think that it smelled of love. Love doesn't always smell of fresh air, though, and I HATED the smell of my blanket after my mom washed it. I tried desperately to not let her wash it and especially not hang it on the line.
I think that if I smelled that blanket now, as an adult, I'd think that it smelled good because my brain would remember. But I can't, for the life of me, imagine why anything could smell better than a blanket dried on the line.
Monday, March 02, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Things I could write about
1) Lent - our church often mentions Lent as a side note but this year it is a focal point. I'm looking forward to that.
2) Getting re-acquainted - next week I'm meeting an old friend for lunch. We knew each other as kids and haven't been in contact since. It'll be more like meeting her for the first time than getting re-acquainted because the amount of time that we were together is very small compared to all that has happened to each of us since then. I look forward to 'catching up' with her, but it'll be strange because I really don't know her at all. I think it'll be a fun experience.
3) Birds - we have tried three times to see the White-winged Crossbills at Centennial Park that have been reported there by many people over the past few weeks. We've yet to see them. They're not usually around here so it would be nice if we could see them while they're visiting so close to our house.
4) Charisma - what's with our volleyball team always playing differently when our captain isn't there? It's not that we don't have the talent to play well without him. It's as if we mentally come unglued. We don't feel like a cohesive unit. Maybe it's just me and nobody else feels that way, but I honestly think there's something to it. I wonder what we can do to fix it.
2) Getting re-acquainted - next week I'm meeting an old friend for lunch. We knew each other as kids and haven't been in contact since. It'll be more like meeting her for the first time than getting re-acquainted because the amount of time that we were together is very small compared to all that has happened to each of us since then. I look forward to 'catching up' with her, but it'll be strange because I really don't know her at all. I think it'll be a fun experience.
3) Birds - we have tried three times to see the White-winged Crossbills at Centennial Park that have been reported there by many people over the past few weeks. We've yet to see them. They're not usually around here so it would be nice if we could see them while they're visiting so close to our house.
4) Charisma - what's with our volleyball team always playing differently when our captain isn't there? It's not that we don't have the talent to play well without him. It's as if we mentally come unglued. We don't feel like a cohesive unit. Maybe it's just me and nobody else feels that way, but I honestly think there's something to it. I wonder what we can do to fix it.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Leave the past in your behind
Andy always makes himself laugh when he says that.
Anyway, this Facebook thing is insane. Or, at least, it's making me go almost insane. I knew that I'd find people on there that I've lost touch with since college and that is really cool. I found a bunch of people from high school, as FB is basically set up to make that happen easily. That's been cool, too.
Today I came into contact with a bunch of people I knew mostly in elementary school and through a bit of middle school.
When I was 7, my mom enrolled me in a once-a-week gymnastics class. I wore my short-sleeved, hot pink leotard and my ringed tube socks, pulled all the way up, as I learned rolls and cartwheels, jumped off the springboard, balanced on the beam and swung on the bars. The parks and rec program I was in had a competitive team for older girls but my teacher said she was going to start a younger team and asked my mom to bring me to the try outs. I remember going through the different skills while different coaches wrote scores and notes on their clipboards. At the end, all of the people who tried out were sitting in a big group on the floor mat while the coach read off the names of the kids who made the team. She listed a bunch of people and I can recall looking over at my mom who was standing in the doorway and she smiled but shook her head a little, like, "Not this time, but oh well." Then I heard my name and both of our faces lit up!
Little did we know that those couple of hours of tryouts were just the beginning of 6 years of countless hours spent in the gym, in the ballet studio and on the road to meets. We practiced 3-4 days a week in the gym, took ballet lessons and had meets on the weekends (not every weekend, but we'd practice when we didn't have a meet.) I went through dozens of leotards, rolls of tape and Ecotrin (ibuprofen wasn't the star of the drug show yet.)
We spent a lot of time with our teammates in the gym and carpooling. We set the bars for each other, rooted each other on, spotted each other, set up the equipment at every practice, cracked each others' backs during warm ups, provided resistance during extra strength and laughed a lot together. Most of us grew up together from being little girls to teenagers.
Tonight on Facebook, I've found a number of the girls - now women - that I spent all those hours with in my youth. It's so bizarre to see them as adults with histories of college classes, friends, roommates, husbands, kids, and countless other experiences that I didn't experience with them and will never know. But I still feel a kinship with them and am excited to find out what's going on in their lives, even if the last time I saw them was 23 years ago.
Anyway, this Facebook thing is insane. Or, at least, it's making me go almost insane. I knew that I'd find people on there that I've lost touch with since college and that is really cool. I found a bunch of people from high school, as FB is basically set up to make that happen easily. That's been cool, too.
Today I came into contact with a bunch of people I knew mostly in elementary school and through a bit of middle school.
When I was 7, my mom enrolled me in a once-a-week gymnastics class. I wore my short-sleeved, hot pink leotard and my ringed tube socks, pulled all the way up, as I learned rolls and cartwheels, jumped off the springboard, balanced on the beam and swung on the bars. The parks and rec program I was in had a competitive team for older girls but my teacher said she was going to start a younger team and asked my mom to bring me to the try outs. I remember going through the different skills while different coaches wrote scores and notes on their clipboards. At the end, all of the people who tried out were sitting in a big group on the floor mat while the coach read off the names of the kids who made the team. She listed a bunch of people and I can recall looking over at my mom who was standing in the doorway and she smiled but shook her head a little, like, "Not this time, but oh well." Then I heard my name and both of our faces lit up!
Little did we know that those couple of hours of tryouts were just the beginning of 6 years of countless hours spent in the gym, in the ballet studio and on the road to meets. We practiced 3-4 days a week in the gym, took ballet lessons and had meets on the weekends (not every weekend, but we'd practice when we didn't have a meet.) I went through dozens of leotards, rolls of tape and Ecotrin (ibuprofen wasn't the star of the drug show yet.)
We spent a lot of time with our teammates in the gym and carpooling. We set the bars for each other, rooted each other on, spotted each other, set up the equipment at every practice, cracked each others' backs during warm ups, provided resistance during extra strength and laughed a lot together. Most of us grew up together from being little girls to teenagers.
Tonight on Facebook, I've found a number of the girls - now women - that I spent all those hours with in my youth. It's so bizarre to see them as adults with histories of college classes, friends, roommates, husbands, kids, and countless other experiences that I didn't experience with them and will never know. But I still feel a kinship with them and am excited to find out what's going on in their lives, even if the last time I saw them was 23 years ago.
Monday, February 02, 2009
What are you doing right now?
That's the question that Facebook posts to me every minute of every day. And I must confess, I love Facebook.
That's what has been keeping me from my blog for the past couple of months. But Facebook is not a blog and doesn't allow me a reasonable (to me) way to write the lengthier things I sometimes like to write. I don't write so much for my 'audience,' as there isn't a big one out there and at this point, I believe all except maybe one person from my known audience is on Facebook and can keep track of me there.
Most of the time, writing something in my blog allows me to ponder it, question it, mull it over and dig deep into it - sometimes before, sometimes during and sometimes after writing it.
So, anyway, to start myself back up on this blog, I'll post a conversation (some of my favorite posts to re-read after the fact are conversations) from last night.
Me: Andy, I'm about to fall asleep but I don't want to miss the end of the game! Make sure I don't lean over on you or I'll surely fall asleep.
Andy: And I'd want you awake why?
That's what has been keeping me from my blog for the past couple of months. But Facebook is not a blog and doesn't allow me a reasonable (to me) way to write the lengthier things I sometimes like to write. I don't write so much for my 'audience,' as there isn't a big one out there and at this point, I believe all except maybe one person from my known audience is on Facebook and can keep track of me there.
Most of the time, writing something in my blog allows me to ponder it, question it, mull it over and dig deep into it - sometimes before, sometimes during and sometimes after writing it.
So, anyway, to start myself back up on this blog, I'll post a conversation (some of my favorite posts to re-read after the fact are conversations) from last night.
Me: Andy, I'm about to fall asleep but I don't want to miss the end of the game! Make sure I don't lean over on you or I'll surely fall asleep.
Andy: And I'd want you awake why?
Monday, December 15, 2008
Christina
Our brother-in-law visited Maryland with his youngest daughter, Christina, last week. This is Christina sleeping on her grandmother's lap.
Friday, December 05, 2008
Chore help
This is what happens when you don't feel like taking the compost garbage to the compost pile and you leave it on the porch to get to it later.
The wildlife comes and takes care of it for you!
The wildlife comes and takes care of it for you!
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Life lives on
My grandmother - the one who is 104 years old - had a stroke in her upper-90's and moved out of her apartment into an assisted living suite in her community. That meant her furniture and other belongings needed to be distributed amongst the family and one of the things I got was her "Christmas cactus" plant. I am usually pretty good at taking care of plants but this one didn't like living in our house no matter what I tried to do to it (or stop doing to it.) It lost leaf after leaf and eventually branch after branch. I read that I could root cuttings so before it completely died on me, I took a few cuttings and put them in water. It worked! I planted the babies in a set of small pots in a matching tray and let them go, hoping that at least one would survive.
That was at least 5 years ago and lookie what we have here. My first ever blooms! Yeehah!
Creative Play
When Kevin asked to play with some of my kitchen utensils while I made dinner one night, I assumed he'd pretend to make dinner himself.
Nope. The whisk became Wonder Woman's jail and a lock on the cabinet in which all of the other bad guys were staying (I don't know why WW was a bad guy.)
The potato masher served as an elevator.
Nope. The whisk became Wonder Woman's jail and a lock on the cabinet in which all of the other bad guys were staying (I don't know why WW was a bad guy.)
The potato masher served as an elevator.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Look who came to dinner
This guy/gal stopped by our yard shortly before sundown, sitting on the shepherd's hook that holds our finch feeders. The finches were mighty perturbed at having their dinner time stock up thwarted by the big beast and they were all around the area making a ruckus. Within 5 seconds after the hawk flew away, the finch feeders were covered with finches again.
Life
I'm reading a novel ("Killer Material" by Dan Barton) about a stand-up comic and it's written by a stand-up comedian so I trust that most of the stuff that happens at the shows is close to real. His main character says:
Emphasis mine.
That begs the question - What is "life" to you? What is better than anything else? What do you wait the rest of your life for?
There is no wrong answer.
The connection you could feel with a crowd that was engaged in your performance could be... better than anything. Reality paled in comparison. It made addicts out of people. Life was on the stage. The rest was waiting.
Emphasis mine.
That begs the question - What is "life" to you? What is better than anything else? What do you wait the rest of your life for?
There is no wrong answer.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Lone red leaf
At the edge of our property there is a line of Bradford Pear trees. They're the last leaves to change color and fall off in autumn. This leaf decided to be bold and change early.
It's the only leaf in a row of trees that isn't green.
It's the only leaf in a row of trees that isn't green.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Microsoft Security at its finest
From the Microsoft Developers Network website:
Emphasis mine.
To view all the hidden objects, right-click the Navigation Pane (but do not right-click an object), select Navigation Options, and then select the Show Hidden Objects check box. The hidden objects appear but they are partially transparent. Casual and intermediate users generally will not stumble on this, so your objects are protected.
Emphasis mine.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Kevin is still sleeping
Shhh... I know it's already 7:15 but Kevin is still sleeping! He hasn't slept this late in months.
Yesterday was the 2nd Annual Turkey Trot at his school. It was actually on the track at the high school. The main event was a 30-minute period in which we walked, ran, skipped, whatever, around the track. Each lap was marked on a card and if you finished at least 4 laps in a 1/2 hour, you received a "charm" for your school charm necklace. I finished 5 laps wearing my boot.
Kevin ran more this year than last and completed 2 miles! I also forced the family (both guys grumbled) to walk to and from the event, so that was maybe another half mile of walking.
Then we had a couple of Kevin's friends over to play for a couple of hours in the afternoon.
After dinner, when it was still only 6:30, Kevin laid down in his sleeping bag on the dining room floor and listened to a book on CD. For an hour! Just laying there! With only a stuffed animal to keep him company!
After that rest, he went to bed. And he's still sleeping.
Kevin would never run or walk that much on his own or at just my behest - so can we have a Turkey Trot every few days? Or at least every weekend? This sleeping in thing is kinda nice.
Yesterday was the 2nd Annual Turkey Trot at his school. It was actually on the track at the high school. The main event was a 30-minute period in which we walked, ran, skipped, whatever, around the track. Each lap was marked on a card and if you finished at least 4 laps in a 1/2 hour, you received a "charm" for your school charm necklace. I finished 5 laps wearing my boot.
Kevin ran more this year than last and completed 2 miles! I also forced the family (both guys grumbled) to walk to and from the event, so that was maybe another half mile of walking.
Then we had a couple of Kevin's friends over to play for a couple of hours in the afternoon.
After dinner, when it was still only 6:30, Kevin laid down in his sleeping bag on the dining room floor and listened to a book on CD. For an hour! Just laying there! With only a stuffed animal to keep him company!
After that rest, he went to bed. And he's still sleeping.
Kevin would never run or walk that much on his own or at just my behest - so can we have a Turkey Trot every few days? Or at least every weekend? This sleeping in thing is kinda nice.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
I'm back in the boot
I have new information regarding my ankle pain. When I researched it online after going to an orthopedic surgeon who gave me two different diagnoses, I determined that I might have os trigonum syndrome. Turns out I was right.
I have this extra/accessory bone (os trigonum) in my ankle that is in the way of my joint and causes pinching which causes inflammation which causes pain. Most people don't have that bone but some people do, so it's not as if I'm an anatomical anomaly (at least, not because of just this.)
The only way to get rid of the problem for good is to surgically remove the os trigonum. We are first going to try other methods. I had a cortisone injection where the troublesome bone is and I'm to wear the walking boot for 3 weeks. Then I'm to resume walking on it for 3 weeks and then, slowly, add athletic activities back into the mix. If at any point the pain gets worse or if after all the rest it isn't better, I then have the choice of living with the pain or having the bone surgically removed (and going through that recovery.) The recovery from the surgery would be 100% barring any complications, but it is still surgery and is not trivial.
I'm back in the boot for now and am not to play any sports. At least there are lots of leaves in our yard to rake, even if it's not as many as we had before the tree fell down this summer when I had the boot on last time.
I have this extra/accessory bone (os trigonum) in my ankle that is in the way of my joint and causes pinching which causes inflammation which causes pain. Most people don't have that bone but some people do, so it's not as if I'm an anatomical anomaly (at least, not because of just this.)
The only way to get rid of the problem for good is to surgically remove the os trigonum. We are first going to try other methods. I had a cortisone injection where the troublesome bone is and I'm to wear the walking boot for 3 weeks. Then I'm to resume walking on it for 3 weeks and then, slowly, add athletic activities back into the mix. If at any point the pain gets worse or if after all the rest it isn't better, I then have the choice of living with the pain or having the bone surgically removed (and going through that recovery.) The recovery from the surgery would be 100% barring any complications, but it is still surgery and is not trivial.
I'm back in the boot for now and am not to play any sports. At least there are lots of leaves in our yard to rake, even if it's not as many as we had before the tree fell down this summer when I had the boot on last time.
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