Wk13 520 Moments (121-130)

Slowly, steadily I return to writing and inch toward life as I knew it before the holiday season and Levi’s early risings derailed daily routine.

  1. Sun illuminates the backyard, casts shadows of bare tree branches on snow.  I am not accustomed to writing in daylight.
  2. Fountain pen running out of ink scratches the page.  Words are broken, incomplete.
  3. Every year I get hit with the post-holiday blues.  Despite the increase of light, I know just how much more of winter we have ahead of us in the Northeast.
  4. It’s not that I don’t like winter.  I love it.  But it does feel a bit long and meaningless without the holiday festivities.
  5. We will play games and do jigsaw puzzles; huddle around books and TV; bake and cook and bake some more.  We will make our own light.
  6.  Freshly brewed ginger tea in ceramic travel mug, all day every day, to avoid drinking cold water in negative temperatures.
  7. Three days late to jump on the opportunity of the New Year, but I’m here now, setting goals, making the best of plans:  five hours of writing per week; self-help/better person; meditation + movement; better with $$/savings.
  8. I have a sore pinky that doesn’t hurt when wrapped around a pen writing.
  9. Our neighbors’ cat, Marshmallow, saunters casually across our sunlit yard, seemingly oblivious to the arctic cold.
  10. A black desk is perpetually (and sadly) dusty.
Advertisements

Wk12 520 Moments (111-120)

To-do list edition:

  1. This morning is skipping yoga to squeeze in writing, as my son keeps waking earlier and earlier lately.
  2. This morning is boil the eggs and install the carseat; pack socks, undies, lunches, and snow pants.
  3. This morning is grateful for hot coffee and time to write and think.
  4. Tonight is unpack the laundry and order more Christmas presents.
  5. Today is eat the same thing for lunch and dinner.
  6. Tomorrow is roast granola, grab chicken and hot chocolate (after snow arrived this weekend, discovered ours all expired in 2015!).
  7. All this week:  grade and grade and grade.  Set sights on being done by noon on Friday for Levi’s Hanukkah celebration at school.
    1. If not done by noon, don’t sweat it and still take the rest of the afternoon off to spend with him.
  8. Today is call the vet to follow-up on (formerly) sick pup’s new diet.
  9. These days I am more distracted by social media than ever (I’m looking at you, IG!).
  10. Today (and probably tomorrow too…) my desk is sadly trashed beyond recognition.

Wk11 520 Moments (101-110)

  1. We are officially artificial this Christmas.
  2. The dog barks incessantly for no reason.  He is back to normal.
  3. My intention for this holiday season:  seek quiet.
    1. I struggle to break free from the news cycle–the endless 280 characters coming at me like the body parts of the 1980s centipede.
  4. We have new neighbors.  It’s strange and strangely comforting to see lights on in a house that has sat in darkness for the five years that we’ve been living here.
  5. On the monitor, I hear Levi gasp for air.  My heart and all my senses are on high alert.  Was it a bad dream?  Is he congested?  Does he need me?
  6. Planning during writing time = my constant achilles heel.
  7. Dawn (accidentally) threw away my aeropress filter again.  Against my tongue, my coffee feels thicker and grittier from my back-up Bialetti.
  8. We are both in the mood to clear space, get rid of things, feel lighter as we head into 2018 (but not the aeropress filter!).
  9. The full moon peeks at me between the naked tree branches.  I sway side-to-side, and it moves with me, of course.
    1. Full moon + mercury in retrograde, they say.  I never know exactly what this means but I wait for all forms of sh*t to hit the proverbial fan.
    2. This sounds like my life regardless of the location of moon, stars, and planets.
  10. I feel like I need to keep secret my thrill over frozen ground, my heart leaping over signs of snow in the forecast.  I delight in mother nature telling us to eat carbs and hibernate.  Move slowly, she says.  Save energy, she says.  I try my best to oblige.

Wk10 520 Moments (91-100)

100/520 Moments!

  1. After a week away from writing, I am rusty.  Writing is like any other skill.  After a week away from running, my muscles feel resistant, tight, confused.  They say no at the same time as they say this feels like liberation.
  2. This morning I brainstorm ways of multitasking and then try to stop myself.
  3. Fight the fear machine.
  4. I’m always thankful when we build in a day between travel and the week starting.  Yesterday was market day and Christmas lights.  Today is daycare and work.
  5. Hello stranger….  A full night’s sleep is pure delight.
  6. I was just lost in thought for I don’t know how long.
  7. The dog twirls in circles on the bed, back to all his old antics.
  8. I observe the same things each day it seems:  darkness, coffee, dog, kid, light, the sounds of the day just beginning.
  9. It seems as though everyone is in full holiday swing earlier than usual this year.  Not that I mind.  I wait for snow–the ultimate holiday decoration.
  10. Today will be an especially difficult Monday.  Daycare drop off after five full days together.  Work instead of play, decorating, and celebration.

 

Wk9 520 Moments (81-90)

  1. Gritty, sandy eyes.
  2. I am the kind of tired that comes from lack of quality sleep, not quantity.  The kind of sleep underlaid with worry and anxiety that are inescapable even in slumber.
  3. First only fairy lights, darkness, and me, moving my eyes around and between the dancing trees, no streetlight glow even.
  4. The wind is fierce, and I love the contrast against the rare quiet of my house.
  5. My dog pees blood now.  This morning I knelt in a puddle to see it.  I cringe and rejoice with each stream.
  6. Had an embarrassing moment yesterday when it appeared that I could not tell time on an analog clock.  Checked my apple watch for confirmation.  I’d had the time right but still turned red-cheeked.
    1. I’ve been told this is a thing now:  children are not learning to tell time on analog clocks anymore.
    2. Not sure if this is true, but pointed out that we don’t tell time on sundials anymore, and no one seems particularly alarmed by that.
  7. Zoned out until the words on the bindings of my books become blurred, and all I can see are different colored rectangles stacked side-by-side.
  8. Train yourself to be a keen observer, I tell my students.  Fight familiarization if you want to be become a better writer.
  9. My eye keeps jumping to the submission deadline marked in hot pink caps on my calendar.
  10. I feel asleep with Neko Case stuck in my head and awoke with her still there–the soundtrack to my nighttime worries.

Wk8 520 Moments (71-80)

  1. Each new day I assume will be the one when I get to put my life back in order.
    1. Instead, the same toys stay scattered across the rugs and coffee table.  The same stray crumbs stick to the bottoms of wooly socks.
  2. Endless vet appointments, doling out medicine, new food, missed days at work, unanswered texts and emails, living in a bubble of just-getting-by each day and falling into bed exhausted but anxious.
  3. I need a haircut.
  4. I fall apart hardest without writing and exercise.  Why, then, are those the first things to go?
  5. Yesterday marked one full week of the constant chaos, life without routine, and no end in sight.  I try to settle in, our “new normal” and all that.
  6. I follow my dog around, in the daylight saving dark, with a flashlight, squatting next to him as he pees, shining the light between his legs.
    1. My son has had two accidents in as many days after being fully potty trained for months.
    2. Urine.  My life revolves around urine these days.
  7. Shifting perspective:  We have a house with heat, each other, friends with birthdays to celebrate, and a new Play-Doh kit.
  8. Though my son no longer sleeps with a white noise machine, the monitor generates its own faint buzzing, staticky sound; it’s own kind of comfort against my vigilant listening.
  9. The sound of birds confuses me momentarily.  Is spring here?  And then I remember winter is peeking around the corner.
  10. I need Thanksgiving. I need a reminder to be thankful.  I need time to focus on just food and family.  I need an old fashioned parade and glasses that fog over after coming in from the November chill.

Wk7 520 Moments (61-70)

  1. 4:54am.  Daylight saving time has ended. And despite not gaining (much) sleep, I am thankful that it is ending and not beginning. Falling backward is much more gentle than springing forward.
  2. Time is an illusion. It is also relative. A relative illusion I guess, and yet the digits on that clock feel all too real to my body.
  3. This morning Levi will wake up for the last time in his crib. I don’t think I’m ready for this.
  4. The week ahead looks more calm than any I’ve had in a long time, and I recommit to more kindness, both to self and others.
  5. Dog with a UTI. I feed him antibiotics with a little prayer after each one. Feel better, my little fur creature.
  6. At this time of year I always end up missing Malone. Sometimes it comes as a dull ache, sometimes a sucker punch. Always I can feel the intensity of the cold November air on my face peeking out from under my green fleece hat; I can see the geese trying to gain formation over the Rec Park; I taste greasy spoon breakfasts and hear the lively (if, at times, heated) conversations over coffee and eggs. I experience the dull, quiet that is that sleepy little town where adventures are created from so little.  I feel love and warmth and belonging.  I laugh at insider-North Country jokes and cry over all that has been lost.
  7. On my bulletin board: a picture of a perfectly blooming amaryllis with a lit candle next to it perched in a snowy window. It is a picture that can instantly transport me back: back to that Vermont farm house, back to being young.
    1. Nostalgia is hitting hard today.
  8. I must have had the common daily struggles of living when I was young. Alone, I must have dug my car out of that snow. But I don’t think it ever occurred to me to complain, to get aggravated. I had no one to listen to me, and what would have been the point anyway. To have that attitude again….  Somehow I have become Holly Half-empty 🙂
  9. I recently heard Ellen Langer instruct: Notice five new things about the person you live with. I will try. I have been trying.
    1. If we are not mindful, she says, we are mindless.
  10. 5:49am. Still no hint of light in the sky.