Time to Reflect

Today I spent some time being aware of my surroundings. Appreciating the rain which has so kindly stepped in to water the poor blueberry bush we planted last night. Appreciating how funny the chickens can look, with "the boys" strutting across the field during a random break in the rain and their ladies scurrying behind - and how amazing it is that at least two goldfish survived the winter in my sorry neglected little excuse for a water garden. Appreciating that even though I somehow have developed poison ivy on the web between the index and middle fingers of my dominant hand, I had the experience to know what would help. Even more, I can offer knowledgeable advice to the confused-looking young couple who were in the same drugstore aisle for the same reason. (Ivy Dry, if you're wondering. Some years it's the only thing to preserve my sanity.)

I love quiet rainy days.

A Funeral for Aunt Mary

Uncle Bill is Grandma's little brother; a barrel-chested octogenarian farm boy who always has a joke on his lips and a prayer in his heart. He stands out on that side of the family as the class clown, and even those distant family members who haven't visited much will immediately recall him. And by his side for the last 62 years has been Aunt Mary, a reticent little woman with a soft smile. My aunt says she remembers back when they were courting, when Aunt Mary would sit on Uncle Bill's lap and he would make her giggle. My impression has been that her memory was failing over the last few years, but she would always sit quietly at family gatherings and gaze fondly at Uncle Bill while the group swirled around him.

Last Tuesday, the pair were at their retirement home in Florida. They got up together as usual, had breakfast and morning devotions together as always. Afterwards, Aunt Mary left the table for her regular morning nap. Uncle Bill heard a crash in the kitchen, where it appears that she had a massive stroke and passed away quickly. He brought her body back to Michigan and buried her in the cemetery where so many of my relatives are laid to rest, near a headstone already carved with both their names and birth years.

Some spouses can't make the switch to single life after such a long marriage, and quickly wither away. But I think Uncle Bill will be okay; he was able to laugh and joke a bit at the funeral, after acknowledging it it had been "her time." He even winked at me once, when he caught me snapping his picture on the sly.

Some deaths are tragedies. Aunt Mary is buried near her granddaughter Tabitha, who was killed in a car accident while still in her teens. But Aunt Mary left behind a legacy of a strong marriage, children who grew into kind and loving adults, and the unshakable faith she shared with her husband. The last hymn at the funeral was "God Be With You Until We Meet Again."

Fare thee well, Aunt Mary. You were a model for us all.

Hello, World. Remember Me?

Y'know, last time I was out of work I spent about 3 weeks sitting on the couch eating bon-bons and trying to wrap my head around the idea of being unemployed. This had unfortunate consequences for my scale, of course, and also didn't do me a lot of good in the coping department. Eventually I fell into a new routine that involved substitute teaching, walks, and some other activities. It really wasn't that bad, except for the financial issues and the weekly embarrassment of filing for unemployment.

This time around, I'm trying to move straight over to the new routine and bypass the bon-bon phase altogether. It helps, of course, that I knew this change was coming roughly 7 weeks in advance, and so had time to process it before it even happened. And it also helps that I now have my substitute teaching certificate, rather than having to start from the whole finger-printing, seminar-attending beginning - so I can still feel as though I'm technically employed.

Still, I have this sense of being in limbo. Instead of that trip to Rome (which I just typed as "Roam" in a classically Freudian fashion), I'm reading Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love. I'm talking to people about photography gigs, but other than a new round of glamor shots in a couple of weeks, the calendar is not particularly full. I think I need a more comprehensive plan for moving forward.

Note to Self

I love this!

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I was looking around my living room last night, with the oatmeal colored rug and the mushroom colored furniture and the ivory colored walls. We kept a fairly neutral palate when we build that section of the house, because the living room and kitchen are actually one "great room" (which is not particularly large) and we wanted the spaces to flow together visually. The only separation is a peninsula bar, above which is a soffit and a hanging pot rack. I couldn't do an accent wall or anything in another color, because of the set-up of the whole thing. But something like this I could do! I can just picture vines twining up the stair well or something.

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Hmmmm. Must go home and stare at my walls a bit.

Wherein we contemplate chaos, anarchy, and the therapeutic satisfaction of knitting.

I'm feeling pretty exhausted during this week of endings and beginnings. There are so many bits of chaos and anarchy flowing around my business day as I try to wrap things up, pack things up, and generally create some sort of semi-functional and professional-looking environment on my way out the door. Through it all, I continue to dance one step forward, two steps back. I want to cry, to bang my head against a wall, to pour myself a drink, and to start giggling hysterically. Instead, I grit my teeth into a fixed smile as I try to teach at least the bare minimum of my daily responsibilities to a young lady who . . . means well.

I also had my physical and mammogram yesterday, trying to beat the cut-off for some of the benefits which will end on Saturday with my employment. Everything looks good, except for a lecture from the good doctor about my weight. (Cousin Christy posted a quote in her blog from SN Parker that "People have a way of becoming what you encourage them to be - not what you nag them to be." I'm just sayin', is all.) The doc informed me that walking 4 miles a day last summer only burned about 400 calories a day, and was therefore of minimal impact. Then he suggested that my knitting (he saw me working on a sock before he came in) was not a particularly active hobby and that maybe I should be walking instead. So, let's simplify this theorem: a doesn't work particularly well, and b is hugely therapeutic for stress and hand flexibility, but I should still be doing more of a instead of b. Does that mean I should have been jogging in place while I waited for him to show up in the exam room? More likely he's just a muggle who doesn't value knitting in the first place. Or maybe I should just show him this to demonstrate how sedentary knitting really can be?



Okay, so I'm venting. And starting next week, I will have lots of time for knitting and exercising, and the young lady in question at my erstwhile office will be on her own, and all this too shall pass. Sigh.

Excuse me, now. I feel my knitting needles calling me.

Praying for Alison

Alison is one of those people sometimes referred to as my "imaginary friends" on the Internets, although I'm pretty sure she exists because I have her book. I've also had some lovely conversations with her via e-mail, and she seems to be an unfailingly generous, kind, wonderfully creative and genuinely interesting person. I would love to have a cup of tea with her sometime, if we ever manage to get within a convenient distance in the same time zone. But right now she's sick.

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Alison has Crohn's Disease and Lupus, and she is going through a really, really bad spell. I knew Crohns could cause nutritional problems and gut-wrenching pain and some other really miserable symptoms. And my neighbor has Lupus, so I'm familiar with the catch-22 of triggers and symptoms that can play such havoc with day-to-day life. But I was really shocked and dismayed when Alison humbly mentioned that she is going to be getting a new medication called Humira (if it ever shows up) because she is trying not to die.

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I don't pray "for" things very much. I try to keep the spiritual communication open, and work for good and model peace and things like that, but I also try not to ask a lot of favors of the Divine. Still, Creator God Mother of us all, I would really appreciate your healing touch for Alison.

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Thanks.

And Here We Are

My New Years' Resolution, as it were, is to concentrate on finishing some of the things I've started. I want to get a bit more organized, and have a better sense of the order of upcoming events in my life. This may or may not be related to my upcoming job change.

I have an official date now - January 31st will be my last day at my current desk. I've explored different options for commercializing my photography, and I do think I could generate some income with a bit of time and effort. The question of the day, of course, is whether that income (together with unemployment, at least for the short term) would be sufficient to keep the heat on. And I guess the other question of the day is whether Rick and I have the stomach and risk tolerance to find out.

Meanwhile, I am job-hunting. I've scanned the papers, Craigslist, Jobnet, Milwaukeejobs, the Federal job website and every other list or lead I can think of. I've networked with friends and professional contacts, and forwarded my resume to headhunters. Paralegal. Four year Business Degree and three year Paralegal Degree. Fifteen years of multi-state and international experience with emphasis on transactional and real estate law. (I did that real estate transfer one time for a small beachfront in South America.) What have you got for me?
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I tell you, it feels like the meat market. After 21 years (this week) of marriage, I haven't had to date in a long time. But still, here I am giving out my number and trying to make an impression with strangers about what an interesting person I am and how nice it would be to have me around. I have an interview on Thursday, and all I can think about is what I should wear. I'll also need to update my portfolio, and I'm agonizing over what writing samples to submit. I'm certain that in this economy they have been flooded with resumes - so not only do I need to stand out from the crowd, but I need to distinguish myself from all those eager young faces in such a way that my higher price will seem worth it. My competitors will primarily be fresh young things straight from 2 years at the local tech school who will work for an hourly wage roughly equivalent to what I earned as a charwoman. It's just sad.

Anyway, I have had some positive results lately. Christmas was good:
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We finally got Rick's glasses picked up, although he says the bifocals make him seasick and I have to keep reminding him to wear them. (The eye doctor says it could take up to a month for him to adjust to them - longer if he won't keep them on his head.)

I finished Christy's leg-warmers, and will have them in the mail this week. I also finished sewing the fish and angel charms and the neck chain and such onto the liturgical stole, and gave it to RaeAnn on Saturday. She loved it, and there were tears and hugs, and according to reports she wore it on Sunday. (I was surprised to hear that she was wearing stoles now since I thought she had to wait until her ordination, but I guess that since she's licensed, the full regalia is expected of her. In any case, she didn't have any stoles of her own and has been borrowing them.) The blue one will see her through the post-Christmas season, but Lent is coming (purple) and then summer (green). I've got a twitch to make her more! (What you see below is the reverse side, with the scriptures that I was too chicken to write out with a fabric pen. I was afraid the pen would bleed through, requiring me to beat my head on a wall for a very long time. So I used an iron-on.)

A shawl has magically appeared on my needles, although I'm not quite sure how it happened. Still, it's my first real project on those Addi turbo's I got from craigslist, and it's coming along nicely. Red Heart Symphony (their synthetic mohair-wannabe, which I love) and Bernat Matrix (which was looking so lonely and cheap in the clearance bin that I just had to give it a home), held together on what are probably size 15's. My standard recipe for a triangle shawl, shown at left - although I'm considering whether I want to add some kind of scalloping along the edges of the V. I think if I drop down to size 8's while doubling the stitches, then do some sort of picot edge, it might give the piece interest without being a jarring change.


And finally, I pulled out the anniversary shawl (and very nearly worked on it). It still is waiting for that last little bit of lace - about 130", if I recall correctly. Time to get it done. Really. Any moment now.

Quiet Night

It's one of those crystal cold nights where the stars look like cheap sequins sewn to a black flannel expanse, and just the act of letting the dog out for a break can take your breath away. One of those nights that makes you wonder why anyone in their right mind would have voluntarily agreed to settle in this area 150 years ago. It said 4° on the bank sign 3 hours ago, but you know it hasn't gotten any warmer since then.

Rick is snoring deeply from the other room, which is a sound that can be startling to the uninitiated. Personally, I find it comforting and I sleep best when it is droning in my ear. Lucas gave me a hug when he came in (although I think it had as much to do with his cold fingers as his affection) and headed up to bed. Tasha is spending her New Years' Eve again this year at a house party thrown by a school friend whose Mormon parents are even more vigilant than I about boys and alcohol and such. The dog is dozing belly-up in her kennel, and one of the cats is asleep at my feet.

And so, here comes another new year. A new job for me - or possibly a new career. A graduation for Tasha, and the start of her college life. Another set of adventures for Rick as he travels the continent, bringing communal peace and technical brilliance to generator systems everywhere. And more chances for Lucas to study, travel, and explore the options for his future.

Per aspera ad astra. Onward and upward. Here we go again.

Happy New Year, y'all.

Saucer Sleds

Today I had that conversation with my boss, the one I'd hoped was 4 or 5 years off - how we would handle a transition to a me-less office. Economy yada yada yada, expenses yada yada yada, give you the best references yada yada yada. I'm out the door in roughly three and a half weeks, although the exact date will depend on several factors which are still in flux. I've treated that place as my business as much as that of my boss during my time there, and it feels odd to think of leaving it. I've had a very good relationship with my boss, who as recently as two months ago was joking that I could never be permitted to leave her.

I'm still in the early phases of adjusting to this news, even though I've suspected it and seen signs of it for about two weeks. Do I try to find another spot at a firm? (There is one firm in town advertising for someone with my credentials, and I of course have sent over a resume.) Do I spend some time trying to really launch my photo work into a viable financial enterprise? (My boss is really pushing this, and although I've done more of it this year than ever before, it still is nowhere near a significant amount. I love the photo work - just can't figure out how to market it.) Maybe I should consider going back to school - the allure of that Master's in Psych seems to have faded for me, but my mind keeps wandering back to the thought of a Masters of Divinity and ordination. Certainly some sort of volunteer work; and I wish you could get one of those "teach English overseas" jobs in smaller, more manageable chunks of time commitment.

You remember when you were a kid and went sliding in one of those round metal "flying saucer" sleds, the ones that turned out to be so dangerous? There was always this point at the top of the hill when you were perched on the very edge of friction, just barely holding your place and about to hurtle down the hill in a completely uncontrolled manner. I feel like I'm there now, teetering on the cusp of a wild ride in a direction only marginally of my choosing.

If you asked me today what I want to be when I grow up, I'd probably suggest some sort of travel photographer and writer. A travel blogger, maybe; wander around the world taking photos, writing about impressions, and getting a lot of knitting done on the train. I'm just not sure what the market is like for a job like that, or if it will still get me home to see Rick on the weekends.

Does Anyone Else Find This Disturbing?

Squirrel foot earrings. I mean, ew. And why? And wouldn't the little toenails get caught in your hair and feel creepy against your neck?

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Ew.

Sometimes I Just Shouldn't Look

The local paper has run a headline for the last few days in a row to the effect that whoever killed a dog in a cruel manner in the next village over still hasn't been caught. Every day, it's right in front of me again, and I think about the animal's suffering. Then today, CNN is running a story on some teens abusing a kitten. It's been in the "top stories" all day, and I keep trying to look away.

So I popped into the Wooden Boat Forum and scanned the Bilge for an interesting distraction. What I found was 3 pages of posts about how the role of women in the military should be limited for their own good and for the good of those soldiers who they would distract or whose team camaraderie they would destroy. I could have dove into that discussion with spurs flying (and have done so before); but it all just keeps coming around again. People don't generally change their minds - instead, they retire and the general consensus evolves with the replacements.

So I peeked at Facebook, which caused me to look for a second at my older brother's blog. (No, I'm not posting a link.) And I caught his comments on religion, which included the statement that "My grandmothers were both very simple people, and not just because they were Christian farm wives of limited education." My grandmothers were not "simple people." The one was a talented writer who sold every story she ever wrote, as well as an entrepreneur and artist. The other was a funny, thoughtful woman and a matriarch who shared her wisdom with 3 generations. And BOTH, if I recall correctly, attended teacher's college and were among the best educated of their circle, as well as being accomplished canners and bakers, voracious readers, mothers of large broods, and successful survivors of life's varied challenges stretching back to the Great Depression.

So I'm shutting off my computer, and I'm going to go finish the last bit of fringe on the blue shawl (and maybe the sleeves of that baby sweater), and play with my puppy. So there.

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NOTE: Okay, I checked. Grandma E taught school for several years, but Grandma B had to drop out and go to work in the button factory to support her mother and siblings during the Depression. She always regretted the lost opportunity, according to Dad.

24 hours or so

The guy on the radio said they will probably start leaking winner predictions by about 5:oo p.m. tomorrow. Unless we suffer a hanging chad or Supreme Court intervention or some other such nonsense, we should have a new president-elect shortly thereafter. Silly season is finally almost done.

Lucas still says he doesn't think he'll vote - he doesn't like the choices. I told him he could write in another candidate. I told him he could pick one of the several other candidates, even if they weren't really viable contenders, just to make a point. I told him to take a left out of the driveway, cross two intersections, then look for the little building with the flag in front. I told him they might have candy. He said something non-committal, and my motherly instinct is telling me to let it be; if I stop nagging him, he might do it.

There's an e-mail circulating just now about the suffragettes and the things they went through less than 100 years ago to gain women the vote. I'm not sure I believe all of it - it also recommends a movie on the subject, and the subject matter is so sensational that I'm surprised I'd never heard of it before. But the fact remains that our grandmothers and great-grandmothers challenged their entire social structure and risked their economic and inter-familial security (which in that era was none to secure to begin with) to gain us this one precious right. The least we can do in their honor is vote. I have an opinion, as you know, about which candidate is more appropriate - but vote for the other guy if you must. Vote for the Green Party, or the Blue Party, or the Flat Earth Society, or what ever other party made it onto the ballot. Vote for a write in of your choice, just as an expression of your opinion on the whole process and the candidates at hand. Whatever. But go vote.

Your grandmother would approve.

This I Believe (Guest Blogger)

My brother Dan recently wrote a small piece explaining his decision to be a Democrat. The piece was intended to counterbalance something posted online by a "troll," someone who intentionally was trying to provoke response with an outrageous statement. Still, I though Dan's response was thought-provoking and well worth sharing. It reminds me of the This I Believe series on NPR. (Besides, I liked the way he tied Star Trek into the first sentence. Once a geek, always a geek.) And I more or less agree with it all, so here you go.

I am a Democrat because I believe that the many should be protected from the few. Republicans believe that there is a greater need for the few to be protected from the many, and I agree with that idea too, but not as strongly as with the democratic position.

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I believe in government of the people, for the people, and by the people. Despite this being a quote from a Republican, I find the Democrats do a better job of implementing it. The purpose of government is to do things that cannot be done justly and effectively as individuals. This requires a pooling of resources: taxation. Any taxation is a redistribution of wealth, and many will argue strategy to make it as fair as possible. Even when not entirely fair on the surface (welfare, for instance), many government programs have the effect of reducing future costs or enhancing future productivity. It costs about the same to send a man to college or jail. One results in a better, more productive member of society. The other produces an ex-con.

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I believe in the prudent regulation of industry and corporations, so that the people are not reduced to poverty and disease through exploitation and pollution.

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I believe that life begins at birth. I believe that the needs of a teenager or young adult far outweigh the needs of the unborn. I believe, as Bill Clinton said, that abortion should be safe, legal, and rare. I believe that children should be wanted. I believe what I read in "Freakonomics", that unwanted children are more likely to become criminal adults, that we have a sufficient birth rate for societal renewal, and that in the early stages of a pregnancy, there isn't enough brain function for the fetus to be considered truly human yet.

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I believe that the people who wanted to deregulate our banks were mostly Republicans. John McCain was head of the Commerce Committee, and has a history of pushing for deregulation. As has been recently pointed out, our economy has historically done better under Democrats than under Republicans.

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I believe that our costs will be lower if we care for health, rather than wait and treat disease. Throughout the world, the most common and cost effective method of doing this is government health care. It may not be perfect for all, but it does a better job than our patchwork system of having lawyers fight for and against paying sick peoples legitimate medical bills.

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I believe that homosexuality has existed for a long time and in many species. I may not understand it, but clearly, evolution has favored having some level of it within a population. When I was seven years old, I thought kissing seemed gross. As a married heterosexual (Kinsey 1) adult, I enjoy kissing my wife quite a lot. I've learned that my opinions of what's gross is irrelevant when I'm not involved in the action. I believe in monogamy, partly from a belief in the evolutionary value of individual commitment, but also from a concern about VD. There are, of course, precautions which can minimize those risks.

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I believe that my immigrant ancestors helped build this country. I believe the current new immigrants are generally hard working, and come here to work, not to steal. I generally do not begrudge them their jobs picking lettuce and strawberries. The Chinese built our railroads. The Italians, Poles, and Irish of 140 years ago built much of our eastern infrastructure. Southern agriculture was built on the backs of African labor, robbed of the wealth it produced. If there is a problem with our immigration policy, it is that corporate (usually Republican) interests wish to keep our borders open in order to exploit this cheap labor. (Look at Shilo Inns labor and the hotel chain's owner's heavy donations to republicans. This is only one of many examples.)

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I believe that Republicans, especially John McCain, have been at the forefront of sending American jobs overseas. I don't care about the skin color or eye shape or hair texture of the person doing an American job, but I believe the job should be done here.

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Lastly, I believe the original poster is a troll, who will never understand these answers, because he chooses to be ignorant.

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Dan

I Voted

Seriously, can we get on with life now?

When we started this ride, I was kind of stunned to realize that of the three viable candidates (Hillary, Barak Obama and John McCain) I really didn't have strong negative feelings about any of them. I mean, I'm very strongly pro-choice - not necessarily pro-abortion, but definitely pro-choice; ask me sometime, and I'll tell you why. So that pretty much ruled out McCain. And besides, I'm not a big fan of his policies on immigration, although I haven't studied the issue deeply. I met Barak Obama at the UCC General Synod in 2007 (where he attended as a church member, not a candidate) and while he seemed smart and capable and said all the right things, I wasn't bowled over by some incredible Kennedyesque wave of charm. So Hillary was my girl - not because she had ovaries, but because she was someone I felt comfortable about and who most closely matched my own political philosophy. But alas, it wasn't meant to be (this time). So Barak Obama. Okay.

Then came the debates, and John McCain just annoyed me to no end with his dismissive, condescending attitude and incessant reliance on a bad thing that happened to him 30 years ago or so. (By the way, losing 6 different planes in circumstances which might gently be described as reckless is not a recommendation for the most powerful job in the world. Never mind the way he has treated his wives.) And Palin!!!! I'm not going to even talk about Palin. Let Helen do it. But let's face it - McCain's behavior and Palin's teeth-grinding performance didn't lose them my vote, because based on the issues they never had it in the first place.

I'm sick of watching the polls. And I'm sick of faith being viewed as a strictly Republican value. And I'm sick of anyone caring whether Michelle Obama had lobster for dinner, or whether Sara Palin could have gotten her suit cheaper at JCPenneys. And I'm sick of John McCain calling me his "friend," and of worrying about his health (should worse come to worse).

I'm still feeling more than a little burned about the whole hanging chad fiasco 8 years ago, and was deeply disappointed in my fellow Americans when they took ownership of the whole mess for real 4 years ago. I want everything to turn out "right," and although I feel (as apparently Sarah Palin does) that "God will do the right thing" on election day, and I like to think that God has a plan for all this - I also like to think that God is a lot smarter than Sarah Palin and may have other ideas about what the "right thing" actually is.

Anyway, so I went down to the Town Hall this morning and voted. Apparently in the Town of Lyndon you can vote early during regular office hours, and skip the rush expected at the polls in 12 days. Mr. Brachmann, who's been working for the town for roughly 170 years, tottered over with the forms, I filled them out and marked my ballot with the special pen, sealed it in the special envelope, and was done. They didn't have any "I voted" stickers, but they did have Raisinettes in the candy dish.

So can we please be done with all this silliness now?

Scatter-Brained

A rough list of things on my mind, in no particular order:

• Nora's appointment with the vet is tonight.


• The LG front-load washer started peeing on the laundry room floor last night. So, about 3 years from installation for both washer and dryer to become dramatically unusable in some way. (I posted sometime in the last year about the metal fatigue hole which appeared in the dryer's drum and ripped a bunch of clothes before we caught it.) The last set, Kenmores, lasted about 15 years. The repair guy is coming tomorrow, and will be charging us $65 for the first 15 minutes.


• I'm preaching at church on All Saint's Sunday - my first time. I'm told I should shoot for about 1,000 words, and of the different lectionary texts I've selected the beatitudes with a theme of humility and reference to those who have gone before us. I'm hoping Grandma would approve.


• I did repeat photos of Nikki and Terry on Saturday, because their first set (done on a gloomy day) were really disappointingly grainy and (in many cases) embarrassingly blurry. This time around we had a beautiful day and I tried - I really tried - to use the stupid tripod. I hope they like the results.


• I really must get Dan's birthday gift in the mail. His birthday is Saturday, which doesn't allow much time. Which reminds me - Elizabeth's birthday is coming up quickly as well. I have a jar of those beautiful pickled onions from the bazaar, and am thinking of what to combine it with. An Envirosax in a complimentary color? (Envirosax are on sale at the market for $5 each, and suddenly I have this urge to buy 20 or so for all my gift-giving needs over the coming year.)


• I absolutely promised Chris I'd have her cotton shawl done by two days ago. Oops. I'll work on it tonight, since it will be perfect knitting for the immediate aftermath of tonight's visit to the vet - mindless and absorbent.

Single-tasking

I didn't get any knitting done last night, because I rushed home to make dinner and then to choir. Afterwards, a certain percentage of the choir usually adjourns to the pub at 52 Stafford to enjoy a pint and the live Irish music on Wednesday nights. (The fiddler is especially good, and the harpist was there last night.) Sean the bartender has an affable smile and a knack for remembering each customer's drink of choice, and it's a pleasant place to hang out all around. I haven't been in as much in recent times, but last night I felt honor-bound to be there to buy a drink in celebration of Tammy's birthday (and let her buy one to celebrate mine).

We talked about politics and bemoaned the dismal performance of our sports teams. Jokes were told, and old embarrassments were remembered fondly. And we mourned with Tammy over the fast decline of her father, who was diagnosed with brain cancer 2 months ago and is worried that he won't be able to vote in another month. (Short-term solution: absentee ballot. )

After I got home, Nora and I took a walk through the night, admiring the stars which appeared despite the moon's glare and taking in the sounds and smells of the night. (Nora spooked something at one point which might have been a possum.) And strolling along, with the evening's conversations steeping in the back of my mind, it hit me all over again how important it is to live in each moment. I get more good ideas and creative thoughts when I'm walking along with Nora and not "doing" anything than in twice as much time spent planning and brainstorming. And I can do more for my friends by simply being with them, hanging out and listening to them, then all the comfort food and platitudes could equal.

And in the end, no matter what my "to do" list says, we all win.

Trying To Let Go

Last night, due to a purely innocent and unintended sequence of events, I happened to find myself looking at an open Facebook chat conversation between my daughter and a young man I did not know. I swear, I only started reading it because I thought I was in my own login, rather than hers; but he had made an off-color comment that I would have loved to respond to in person. I was tempted to remove him as a friend on Tasha's behalf, a move that Facebook warns "cannot be undone." I was tempted to track him down and call him. I was tempted to track him down and call his mother. I finally just logged out of her account.

When I was her age, I'd already gotten into more trouble and had more near misses than I (as the mother of teens) now want to think about. I keep telling myself that she's got the brains, the tools and all the right reasons to make good choices, and we're getting to the point where I have to back off and let her deal with this stuff on her own. But sometimes it's hard.

Hi!

I got a call from Carl this afternoon. He was using a library's internet access to wander through some of the pictures I took at the World Dairy Expo earlier this week, and he wanted to nominate this one for the blog. He thought it really told the whole story.


I think this is the first time Carl has seen my blog, which was originally conceived as a means of conveying directions and lodging information to guests. I've covered a lot of ground since then. (In fact, I have real, live knitting to show you - soon. Really.) And while I've been writing and philosophizing and messing around on here, I've started using this neat little Google function to track my visitors. For instance, I can tell you how many visits there have been to the blog in the last 30 days, and the average amount of time actually spent reading the blog once you all get here (1 minute, 23 seconds). But what is really fascinating is that I can tell where those viewers are located, more or less.

The vast majority are in the US, of course. (Stops typing to wave at the cousins, and to Maggie Brown and her mom.) And one visit from Finland, which I'm also assuming is a brother or nephew. But I also had a visitor from South Africa . . . and Lithuania . . . and Ghana . . . and Bulgaria. Ten visits from the United Kingdom, and two from India. I don't know who you people are, or what I could possibly be doing here in Wisconsin that interests you. But welcome, whoever you are and how ever you got here. Say hello in the comments, if you have the time. I'll try to post something every once in a while that's worth your trouble.

September

All the kiddies are back in school now (including Tasha, who was too busy for a better "first day of school" picture than this). I called the bus company and told them to just take us off their list, since Tasha will drive herself pretty much all the time in order to be there for her zero hour class. It turned out the lady who answered the phone at the bus company was Debbie, who drove my kids on the country bus for years - so we had to take a minute to commiserate how old we must be, with the kids being all grown up like this.

But privately, I've been thinking that Rick and I are just coming into the best part. Our kids are just about launched, while some vice presidential candidates and other women my age are just starting out with new infants. Our careers are proceeding at a reasonable pace, and we've reached that point in our marriage where we know each other better than anyone else in the world ever has. We've figured out a lot about where we stand on issues, from philosophy and politics to how we like our eggs cooked.

Maybe September is a metaphor for this point in our lives. Golden days of indian summer, with the hint of an occasional chill in the air. And yet, it's an invigorating season with beautiful colors and rich flavors, full of the rewards for earlier labor. And that's just fine.

Harmony

A few days after Tasha left for the summer, Luc pointed out how peaceful the house had become. He held this out as proof that I should have "stopped at one." (Ah, brotherly love.)

After a summer of adventure, she's now home again. She has begun to spread her laundry and toiletries throughout the house again, and she's already borrowed my car and insulted my taste. I'm biting my tongue. After spending 10 weeks on her own, adjusting back to being a child in a household of 5 is going to be a challenge for her. And in all probability, this is her last year with us; after high school, she'll be off to college and other adventures.

So far, things are going fairly well between her and the dog, who of course sees her as a stranger. But Tasha says her biggest concern is that once she and I start arguing, the dog will get upset at her. I'm hoping (foolishly, perhaps) that it just doesn't come to that.