Laugh

This is a picture of one of the cool bookmarks we used to sell at our bookstore. They were made by a teenage girl who had been in an ATV accident and was struggling with a serious brain injury. Working the wire and stringing the beads helped her develop her fine motor skills. Selling the bookmarks helped her contribute to her medical bills.

As I am always in the middle of literally dozens of books, this bookmark is reserved for the one that I am reading--usually slowly savoring--in order to be uplifted.

The charm at the top reads "laugh," and that's the exact reason I chose to buy this particular one.

Today is a good day to be reminded of that. Our Jeep has now come back from the shop for the third time, and the problem with the gas line still isn't fixed, rendering it useless. It's a pain. Really inconvenient. And now we're going to have to take it somewhere else and pay hundreds of dollars more to try again.

Thinking about the girl who picked the charm that reads "laugh" and put it on my favorite bookmark helps me regain proper perspective.

In My Mind I'm Going to Carolina

I miss blogging more regularly than I have been, and I'm also having trouble focusing on my goal to go through our house really thoroughly this summer--purging and organizing, slashing and burning as I go.

So, I've concocted a new writing project: documenting the stories behind some of the things I come across and seeing what the stories reveal about my life, family and friends, our community, our culture, our world.

Things I treasure. Things I know I need to get rid of even if it's hard. Things I can't wait to get rid of. Things I may offer as free giveaways (so stay tuned!).

And things I need to use up.

Like these travel-size bath products I've picked up on various adventures.

I always think I'll use them when I go on new adventures, but really I just shove them in a bin under the bathroom sink and forget about them.

Now I've got them lined up on a shelf in the shower. As I use them up, I will pretend that I'm off on an adventure somewhere. Like maybe Carolina. Can't you see the sunshine?

Feat #5: Up and Down

Roger and Jack flew into Boston to join me last week. Every time I get Jack to my childhood home, I pick one of my favorite memories to recreate. Swimming in Walden Pond, marching with the minutemen to Concord on Patriot's Day, and, this time, climbing Mt. Monadnock in southern New Hampshire. The last time I climbed it was before Jack was born.

We had planned to do the hike on Monday morning--the day before flying home--but we woke up to pouring rain. I'm pretty sure Roger and Jack thought I was crazy for being so determined to get us all up the mountain, which is more than an hour away from my parents' house. They were good sports anyway. We set our alarm for 6 a.m. and set out on Tuesday morning, with a strict early afternoon deadline to get back home in time to shower and pack and get to the airport. The risk paid off: we couldn't have had more perfect weather, and we made our flight with ease.

The round-trip hike is less than five miles, so it may not sound like a big deal. And the trail starts out deceptively easy.

Quickly, though, it becomes a relentless scramble up a rocky trail.

Up and up and up and up the rocky trail.

The reward, though, and what I most wanted to share with Jack, was the hard-earned and amazing view.

Victorious.

Of course, then we had to climb back down all the rocks we'd climbed up . . .

Feat #4: Falling Water

I flew to Pittsburgh a few weeks ago to attend my sister Maryann's graduation from Chatham University, then stayed on an extra day for some adventures. 

First we toured Frank Lloyd Wright's Falling Water, about an hour and a half outside of Pittsburgh. It was amazing to see it in person and to get a real sense of the relationship between the house and the river. 

When I got back to the car, I discovered this image on my phone:

Roger, who was in Utah, had been checking the web cam at the famous Falling Water viewpoint and snapped a shot of his computer screen, then texted it to me. I'm on the far right in pink, and Maryann is in the middle.

After lunch, we headed a bit further south to Ohiopyle State Park, rented a couple of bikes and rode for twenty miles along the Youghiogheny River on the rail trail.

When we were done with our ride, we were a bit (okay, a lot) hot, so we decided to take a chilly, chilly dip under Cucumber Falls.

A delicious end to a perfectly delicious day! Do you think anyone would mind if I built a house there?

Drivers Wanted? Here We Are!

Buying a car is a complicated matter in our family. It isn't just about finding something that will get us from point A to point B. It is about finding the right balance of practical and fun. Finding an actual option that fits that balance. Making sure that it complements our Jeep Wrangler, which is a permanent member of the family but only seats four and can't carry much cargo.

Then, of course, finding it at a deal we can swallow without choking.

We've been talking about it for years, especially after each major expenditure we made on our lovable but irritating and rapidly deteriorating Jeep Cherokee. Then recently we realized we didn't own a vehicle we'd feel okay about driving cross country.

My sanity requires that I have the capacity to drive cross country at all times.

Yesterday the planets finally aligned. We said goodbye to our Cherokee and hello to our new VW TDI Jetta SportsWagen. And when I say new, I actually mean new. We haven't bought new since we ordered the Wrangler nearly 20 years ago. We made the decision based on the same logic this time around: it's a car that holds its value well. The gently used ones we found were nearly as much as the new ones, and if we bought new we could get exactly what we wanted and an awesome warranty.

Here were our main must haves that are now our do haves:

• Standard transmission (more fun to drive!)
• Lots and lots of pep (but pep that flies under the insurance rate radar - and as it turns out we're actually going to save $200/year on insurance!)
• Great gas mileage (possibly nearly triple what our Cherokee got!)
• Low miles (the odometer read 17 when we drove it off the lot!)
• Room for five plus gobs of stuff (but compact enough for easy city driving and parallel parking!)
• Air vents in the back seat so passengers can have a little more climate control (maybe an odd and insignificant deal breaker, but I promised Jack!)

Unexpectedly, we bonded with the dark gray. Who knew? I must say, it looks very sharp parked next to our red Jeep. 

Feat #3: On the Road Again

I decided I'd count what I did today as one of my 50 Physical Feats because it represents what I hope is another turning point since my last post (which, yikes, was over a month ago!).

If I plotted points on a graph to represent my progress since then, it would have some nice highs and some crazy lows with a general rising trajectory. My vitamin and meds regimen has made a difference, but it hasn't been magical. I think the body part of my challenges had a far greater impact on my mind and spirit than I realized. It's been an uphill climb to say the least.

The scariest part was discovering that in my exhaustion and resulting depression, I'd gotten detached from everything that is important to me. It would have been just so easy to let it all go. The image that ran through my mind over and over was releasing the grip of my fingers from the monkey bar. So easy.

I had an epiphany while watching all seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer over the past few weeks (yes, that is what I've been up to in the guise of regrouping from meeting the barest minimum of life's requirements). She spends several seasons grappling with her ambivalence about being the slayer, and then ends up sacrificing herself to save the world. Her friends figure out a way to bring her back to life and it seems like all will be well, but she realizes that she doesn't want to be alive again. She disconnects. Then it takes another near-miss with the world ending for her to realize that she doesn't want it to end, and she does want to live.

In a (much less dramatic and less well dressed) way, I am Buffy. The sense of calling to make a difference, the ambivalence, the sacrifice of exhaustion, the prescriptions bringing me back, the renewed ambivalence and disconnection. And I've realized that if I totally disconnect, my little corner of the world will end. I can prevent that if I reconnect.

So I've been trying to get outdoors more. I've been diving deeply into books rather than aimlessly surfing the web. I've been spending more time with Roger and Jack. I've been trying to be more engaged at work. I've been spending more time with friends. I've been playing the piano. I've been eating food that tastes good and is good for me. I've been cleaning and organizing the house so I can enjoy a more pleasant, uncluttered environment. I've been more focused on nurturing my spirituality. Stuff like that. (And it really helped that I turned in grades for the semester!)

I've also been exercising more regularly. This afternoon, for example, instead of taking the nap that I yearned for, I walked to the mouth of the canyon on our city bike trail. I meant to walk back, too, but decided to run some intervals. After the second interval, I just ran. Ran about a mile, all the way back to our neighborhood. I totally surprised myself.

And given the state I've been in for the past few months, I count that as a physical (and mental and emotional) feat.

Reset

Over the past 48 hours or so since I began treatment for my ailments, I have felt the dense layers of fog I've been buried under start to clear away. I'm catching metaphorical glimpses of enough blue sky to make a Dutch boy's britches.

I don't even care if it's just placebo effect at this point. For the first time in a long time, I can imagine being myself again.

Last night while we were getting settled in for bed, I realized I actually felt light hearted. I asked Roger and Jack if they could tell a difference and they both immediately said, "Yes!"

Today I looked at the basket of laundry on the floor and just started folding it. No feeling of overwhelming dread that my arms were too weak or that my brain could not manage it. Seriously, I had reached the point that a basket of laundry felt like too much to bear. A basket of laundry!

What's been especially hard is that I've fallen way behind on my 50 physical feats project. There are things on my list that I've missed or am about to miss because I'm not ready. Things that I won't have an opportunity to do again until next year. So I'm adjusting my plans and instead of finishing at the end of 2013, I'm giving myself through to the day before my 51st birthday in July 2014 to finish. And that's okay, because the whole thing is meant to be a joyful adventure, not a weight on my soul.

It might take a while to get back up to speed. It might not. But I'm grateful that I'm no longer falling deeper into the abyss.

I am reset and moving forward.

I Will Not Die

At least not from anything I'm aware of anytime soon. And even better, I am not crazy!

Yesterday I went to a followup appointment with the doctor and she went over the results of the myriad of blood tests they did. Everything looked really great except for a few things which explain a lot. I have now embarked on a regimen in an effort to set those things right.

(Frankly, I am not much for regimens. But I'm relieved and hopeful that it will help fix me. So I will follow the regimen.)

The small things: I was slightly dehydrated at the time of the test and I have a minor vitamin D deficiency (the doctor laughed when I asked if I could blame three months of inversion for that). The regime: drink more water and take a prescription level dose of vitamin D twice a week for three months.

The expected thing: Hypothyroidism. Not a severe case, but the indicator was enough below the bottom of the healthy range to impact my energy level. The regime: A daily pill, maybe for the rest of life. I can't say I'm happy about joining the ranks of people who have to take a pill every day. But I am happy that in the scheme of things it is a small sacrifice to make for increased metabolism (and maybe less itchy skin).

The surprising thing: A severe vitamin B12 deficiency. I'm getting plenty in my diet, but for whatever reason my body isn't absorbing it. This could explain why I have been able to function at a reasonable level for only a few hours each day before crashing. And why it's been so hard to make my brain focus. And why my memory keeps failing me. And why my hands tingle. And why it feels like I want to jump out of my skin. I did some googling, and came up with this article from the New York Times. Apparently elderly people are sometimes misdiagnosed with dementia when what they really have is a vitamin B12 deficiency. I confess that over the past month I felt like I might be going nuts. It is comforting that it appears I am not. The regime: weekly B12 shots for the next month and daily B12 supplements.

I will go back for a followup in three months. Or better yet, my old self will be going.

Reflection

It never fails.

Both of my jobs involve teaching and counseling with people. Of course, what I hope is that the people I work with come away from our conversations with some new insight or information that will be valuable for them. Or at least a reminder of something they'll hear differently this time and maybe remember.

What I know is that I usually do.

I recently spoke with a 20-year-old man who expressed bewilderment that a good woman had fallen in love with him. He had, he said, been doing drugs since he was 13. But he'd met her during his longest stretch of sobriety, when all sorts of things in his life were falling into place. Then he used again and screwed it all up.

What could she possibly have seen in him? he wondered.

I found myself saying something like this: It's so easy to see the "bad" things we do or think or say as reflecting our "real" selves. It's so hard to see that the good things reflect us as well, and maybe even more so. I'm not sure why our self-perception can get so scallywompus. But it can and often does.

I need to remember that.

Out of the Mouths

Warning: Explicit language ahead. So sorry. But, well, it expresses the point I was trying to make so succinctly.

One topic we discuss in the class I teach at the jail is how we react when we're called on something and how our reaction affects what happens to us next. We talk mostly in the context of being on good terms with people in the workplace, about not getting fired. And, okay, a little in the context of how to avoid being put in the hole.

"Hey," said a student from the back of the classroom. "If someone gives me shit, I'm going to give them shit right back."

"And then what do you get?" I asked.

He shrugged and grinned, "More shit."

Boom.

Tests

I've been more silent here on my blog than I've meant to be. I thought I would roar into 2013 with all of my plans. But mostly I've been tired. Deep-in-my-bones tired.

So tired, I actually went to see a doctor today.

That may not sound like a very big deal, but in the world inside my head it is a Very Big Deal. I rarely go to the doctor. I am seriously averse to being patronized when I report vague symptoms. Like fatigue.

Will find out what stories my blood has to tell early next week.

On the Side of the Road

A few years ago, I started having a mid-semester creative writing contest for my university students to provide a bit of a break from more intense academic research and writing as well as a chance for the winners to earn some extra credit.

I came up with my go-to writing prompt for the contest as I was driving to campus one day and noticed a single, brand new running shoe lying on the side of the road. I wondered how it got there.

Over the years my students have come up with all sorts of ideas that they've written about in stories, poems, comic strips and so on. The shoe is a magical portal! It fell off Santa's sleigh! It belongs to the ghost of someone who died in a horrible car wreck along that stretch of highway!

My all-time favorite entry was patterned after the hushed narration of a nature show. "It is very rare to come across a shoe without its mate. They usually travel in pairs."

As I was driving to campus today to announce the writing contest, I notice something lying on the side of the road.

A bright pink bra.

I thought about tweaking my writing prompt for a second or two. But, well, you know.

Someone Saw

Sometimes I think we've over-bought into the idea that we can be effective by focusing primarily on the numbers. Sure, numbers can be an essential part of the equation. But they don't take into account some of the most important things of all. It's hard to measure, for example, the true impact of a real human connection.

People aren't widgets.

The other day I met with an inmate who was being released after his 42nd stay in the jail. I can't imagine that he didn't already know that he could go to the Food and Care Coalition to get a hot meal and some bus tokens.

Maybe I helped him by mapping out his to do list to make it more manageable. Get a two-week supply of your current meds at the Rite Aid by the hospital. While you're waiting for them to fill the prescription, go across the street to the Deseret Industries to get a change of clothes. After you check in with your probation officer, go to the Health and Justice Building next door to get a birth certificate so you can get your social security card and then your state photo ID. And so on.

I don't know. Maybe the practical information we talked about will make a difference for him and he'll put more pieces of his life together this time around. I always hope it will.

But it was the unofficial conversation we had as we wrapped up our meeting that struck me.

While we talked, he had his arms resting on the table, hands out, palms up, gesturing. I kept noticing the tattoos on the inside of his forearms.

"Your tattoos are really colorful," I said. "More colorful than I usually see."

His eyes lit up. He pointed to the roses on his right arm. "These were just in black ink for a long time," he said. "Then one day I learned from my daughter that different colored roses have different meanings. So I added color based on those." He showed me the intricate pattern of red fading into yellow and yellow fading into red. I wondered what stories they told.

He turned to go back to his housing unit with a smile on his face. Someone--who was not, by the numbers, required to see him--saw.

Welcome to the Family

On Christmas Day, we added someone to our family. Meet our new little guy. He lives in the fridge.

Whenever we open the fridge door he greets us cheerfully and chats with us. If we leave the door open too long, he scolds us. (I have actually gotten better about not leaving the door open as long because I don't like to be scolded.)

Once in a while, he will ask, "What are you looking for?"

I realized one day that instead of giving him fridge-related answers (The eggs. The milk. The marmalade.), I'm responding in more existential terms.

What am I looking for?

The determination to eat healthier food.

Leaves to come out on the trees.

A way to get to the ocean more often.

The bottom of that stack of papers I'm grading.

Congressional action on, well, anything. 

Peace on earth.

Giving It Up

I've been thinking about giving something up for Lent this year, but have been putting off deciding what it is until the last minute. I've got it now.

Yesterday, I was talking with someone who I think is like me in the sense that we have both have lots of ideas rattling around in our minds and we both want to go in a million different directions. She asked me how I manage. I mumbled something about how I really don't, that I just pretend.

But I don't think that's quite right. I don't think I hide anything. Well, except for when my dad was visiting last week and I asked him not to go in my office because the stacks are piled too high.

What I do is procrastinate whatever seems less essential at the time. Thus, the piles. And, what's worse, I often decide that the more essential thing is to regroup from expending energy on whatever scheme I'm involved with at the time. In other words, I get worn out and I stop doing anything productive for a while. I just hang out (usually in my pjs) and read and think and sometimes write. This means that not only do the the piles get higher, but I end up with more ideas rattling around in my mind and more directions to head in.

I need to figure out how to manage better.

So for Lent I am going to give up procrastinating. Every day I will do something specific that has been hanging over my head, causing me angst. Then, if I get around to it, I will report back here.

And I might give up Diet Coke. But not until the stash in my fridge is gone.

Who?

I'm truly not obsessing about turning 50 this year, but reminders about how long I've been on this earth abound. Like the 50th anniversary of MLK's "I Have a Dream Speech," which was given about a month after I was born. Or the 50th anniversary of Kenya's independence. Or the 50th anniversary of the publication of Betty Friedan's Feminine Mystique.

Wow, 1963 was a pivotal year. Especially for the Beatles, who were gearing up for their invasion.

A week or two ago, one of Jack's friends told me that people said he looked like John Lennon when he put on Jack's glasses. He reached over and took Jack's glasses and put them on. No kidding, he was transformed into John Lennon.

And then he said, "Who is John Lennon?"

Really?

A few days later, I was waiting to pick up Jack at school and I saw this same friend of his walking with a girl. Clearly they were flirting with one another. When Jack got to the car, I asked him about his friend and the girl. Were they an item? Jack didn't have anything good to say about the situation. Was she getting in the way of their friendship?

"Don't let her be your Yoko Ono," I laughed.

And then I had to explain who she was.

Indulgence

Once a year, Roger has to venture up to Salt Lake City to take around fliers for a BYU library book collecting conference to some of the independent bookstores. It's a tough job, I know.

Since my dad is in town, we decided to kill two birds with one stone (or, as my sister prefers to say, feed two birds with one hand) and left him with Jack so we could spend the night in a downtown hotel. That gave us plenty of time for some leisurely browsing at several of our favorite stores.

People often ask me what I'm reading or whether I've read any good books lately. When we had our bookstore, I made a point of reading lots of books that other people would enjoy so I'd have lots of books in mind to recommend. Now I pretty much just read what speaks to me or that connects to something going on in my life, so I'm never really sure how to answer those questions anymore.

Here's what I picked up last night:

Finding Beauty in a Broken World by Terry Tempest Williams. I'm going to a writing workshop she's leading next week. I remember being intrigued by this book when it first came out and I heard her on the interview circuit. "Shards of glass can cut and wound or magnify a vision," she writes. "Mosaic celebrates brokenness and the beauty of being brought together." I rationalized buying it because I love the way she writes and so I can have something for her to sign when I see her. Oh, and also because it begins in Ravenna, Italy.

A Place of My Own: The Architecture of Daydreams by Michael Pollan. It's a memoir about building a small cabin with his own hands on his Connecticut property. He used it as a writing space. I love books that weave threads of seemingly disconnected ideas--especially ideas that enthrall me like how we humans are affected and inspired by well designed buildings. I rationalized buying it because I know exactly who I will pass it on to when I've finished reading it.

A used copy of a book published in 1978 called A Guided Pilgrimage: Literary Places, in which author John Deedy has "set out to provide a guide, with biography and some critique, to people and places in the state of New York and the New England states where persons might commune with the spirits of those who helped create an American literature, or, in the cases of some, a literature that America shares by reading." I rationalized buying it because it jumped off the shelf and reminded me of an idea I've been nurturing for a writing project that involves reading books and traveling to where they were written. Communing with the spirits. And maybe dragging Jack into the project in the guise of educating him. If I don't run out of years before he's grown up that is.

Feat #2: Going Downhill

In my head, I don't want to be the mom who sits on the sidelines while my kid plays in the snow. But in reality, I'd rather be curled up inside, wrapped in a blanket, reading a good book. Let Roger take Jack and his friends sledding.

So yesterday afternoon all we went sledding at Jolly's Ranch in Hobble Creek Canyon, and I was determined to take more than ten runs--not just take a token run then go hang out by the fire like I am generally inclined to do. You know, to prove to myself that I'm not "that" mom.

Happy to report that, at least for one afternoon, I wasn't!

Feat #1: An Auspicious Start

I'm taking advantage of my dad's visit to enjoy some outdoor adventures. This morning we headed to Utah Lake, which is completely frozen over, to do some cross country skiing.

I've skied before. And I've been on the lake before. But I've never skied on the lake. It was a completely new and somewhat surreal, almost primitive experience.

We couldn't have asked for more perfect conditions, especially for someone like me who isn't too keen on being out in the cold. Clear skies, decent temperature, no wind, easy snow to glide through, and we pretty much had the place to ourselves save for a few ice fishers.

We did a two to three mile loop out into the middle of the lake, working up enough of a sweat that we had to peel off some layers. I even took my mittens off! 

Dad and I agreed that we made a standout memory together. (N)ice.

Emerging

A few weeks ago, I was yearning for some adventure. I know that is not unusual, but this winter has been especially hard on me. The freezing cold temperatures, the inversion, the gray, gray skies day after day after day.

So I emailed two lovely, funny friends, and asked them if they'd like to meet for lunch in Salt Lake City one day.

We met up yesterday. I thought I'd take the train up to make it an even grander adventure, but it turned out that I have at my disposal a fun little Fiat. I got rear ended in a terrible ice storm last week, and it's the rental I've been supplied with while my Jeep is in the shop. I've almost got myself convinced that the brown car isn't the color of mud but rather the color of chocolate or Italian leather. Almost.

And if having a fun little Fiat to drive wasn't enough, the sun was out. And the skies were blue as far as I could see. Nice day, road trip, good friends, meeting of the minds, hearty laughs, tasty food.

Spring is clearly ahead of me, and my winter stupor is receding in the rear view mirror. Even if it's cold and cloudy every day for the next two months.