Winding back July

Here’s what will hopefully be the second in three-part series of “round ups” this summer. (I hate publicly committing to future writing that may or may not happen but that’s my goal.) You can find June’s here.

July’s routine was all about work, workouts, kid drop-offs, and day camps. All good stuff. However, there were a couple special things highlighted below.

Getting Organized

Kicking off the month, we were visited by a professional organizer, y’all!

This angel of bins, labels, and “like with like" helped us rein in the growing chaos in the kids’ playroom and bedroom. The issue was that they weren’t fully using the toys and clothes they have because they couldn’t see or find anything but what was on the surface. More importantly (and who are we kidding?), the mess was stressing me out. So something had to change.

In a couple “before” pictures below, you can see how their stuff was stuffed. Everywhere.

Just when I hit a breaking point, I found out a friend and colleague helps people get organized on the side. And, she’s amazing at it. Here’s how she worked…

After some preliminary discussion and sharing of pictures and goals, we decided she would come to our house two days in a row. Day 1 would be dedicated to the purge. Day 2 was putting the stuff we were keeping into its new home- with all its friends.

She started with a very short, interactive “lesson” for the kids on how to think about using a space, the benefits of being able to find the stuff you want, and how to think about organizing it all. She had them at, “use this sharpie to write on the wall (on paper).” We then dove into the grouping, sorting, and purging. Some went to the trash, the rest to a curbside give-a-way with one big thrift store drop off.

On Day 2, we put it all back together. A couple of things that were great about this for me…

• Having another adult with both the process and the willingness to roll-up her sleeves was super helpful. She’s kind, not judge-y at all, and great with kids. These qualities were just a bonus. I loved the results so much I would have taken a surly grouch. Please direct message me if you’d like an introduction.

• It’s also helpful to have the time block set aside. This project was something I’d previously tried to tackle a bit at a time with no real progress.

• Having a couple of new things- some new rugs, pillows, a throw, and bins just made the end result all the more satisfying. More stuff!!!

Ahhhhh…..

Lighting Up the Neighborhood

We celebrated the 4th with friends and illegal fireworks. What’s considered tame just about everywhere else is off limits here in Falls Church. Taking a calculated risk, Brian and Linc hit up the stand in our neighboring county (.4 miles away). We then pooled our stuff with our friends for a decent show.

Opening Up Shop

Next up, Baya opened an Etsy shop called, The Brightest Night. She makes really lovely, beaded bracelets inspired by the dragons in her favorite book series, Wings of Fire. I’ve been so impressed with her diligence and craftsmanship. The shop is open for business. And be on the look out for a more formal launch soon!

Fixing Food & Friends

Of course, last but not least… we’ve spent lots of time cooking, baking, smoking meat (Brian), catching lightening bugs, playing soccer in the rain, floating at the pool, and just hanging out with friends. Bring it, August!

Our garden is thriving this year thanks to more planning and attention and doubling the depth of our beds. Thanks Mom and Dad!!!

Last-ish

I’m done! At 3:28 and change, I made my goal to beat the 4 hour cut-off.

At my first tri in a LONG time, I learned (or re-learned) a bunch. Here's what happened leg-by-leg.

We all gathered, then headed into the water like we were boarding a plane, 2 by 2 by 2. I got off to a good start. And by “good” I mean that I didn’t have a full-on panic attack requiring that I flip over to avoid sucking down water. I didn’t get kicked in the stomach or get water in my goggles or have to cling to the side of a kayak. I was able to relax enough to wonder if I’d remembered to brush my teeth. That ended when I touched something very weird which I can only assume was the hair of a dead woman whose body was lodged on the bottom (maybe lost during last year’s race?) Or it was seagrass. We’ll never know.

Then came the bike. The Bike.

I’d like to go on record and take back something I wrote last night on Instagram. It was something gushy, written under the influence of M&Ms and the peaceful solitude in my hotel room. It was something about the bike being the unexpected joy of this triathlon training experience.

SCRATCH THAT.

In fact, I hate bike riding. I just remembered.

Until this year, I hadn’t ridden in forever. Forever ago was when my old bike flew off the top of our car at 80 MPH on the Jersey Turnpike. Thankfully, no one was injured that crazy day but I conveniently took that as a sign that biking wasn’t for me.

Fast forward 17 years amidst a global pandemic. Brian surprised me with a new bike. I was so excited. And, in fact, that bike was a big part of what sparked this whole triathlon training idea anyway.

It turns out that as much as I love the actual bike. I don’t really like riding it.

I don’t like hunching over. I don’t like my palms getting scratching from the bouncing. I don’t like pedaling. I don’t like shifting… unless it’s down (or up)- whichever way makes it easier. I don’t like wearing my helmet. I don’t like seeing other people wearing their helmets. I don’t like the smell of roadkill or the sight of litter.

And I don’t like being passed over and over again.

The truth is that today I got SMOKED on the bike leg. I don’t know how else to put it.

I came out of the water with about 1/3 of the bikes remaining in the transition area. Every single one of those ended up passing me over the next 25 miles. I got passed on uphills and downhills. I got passed on curves and straightaways. I got passed by a guy not even holding on to the handlebars as he took a squirt from his water bottle.

Getting passed repeatedly is not awesome.

First, triathletes are such a friendly, collegial people that every single one says something like, “You got this! Way to go!” To each I’d smile and manage a “you too” while telling them in my head to SHUT THE F UP.

Second, everyone’s age is written on their calf. So first, Mr. 23 years old passed me. Fine. He was quickly followed by a 37, 41, 53, 61… and, then, Mr. 68! You’ve got to be kidding me.

If you don’t already, you should know that I’m a proud back-of-the-pack-er. But like everyone else out there “just to finish,” I don’t want to be last.

On this day, on this course, on this bike, I was seriously LAST. Or last-ish. Either way, it was close.

Whatever you call the feeling of relief, irritation, and optimism mixed together, I was that starting the run.

You won’t be surprised to hear that I’m no speedster in sneakers either but at least running is familiar. After figuring out the funky turnarounds, I regained some ground and returned the “You got this!” favor to a dozen or so people before finally finishing.

As I crossed the line, a volunteer handed me my medal and an icy cold wet washcloth. It reminded me of the moment my Aunt Loretta gave me a Pepsi after the San Diego marathon. It was this delightful surprise that I didn’t know how much I desperately needed and wanted. With those cold washcloths, they just hand them out and, like, don’t even want them back. They’re yours to keep!

AMAZING.

So with that, I’m now all in for the next one- even with the bike.

Winding back June

We closed out June all snuggled in our bed. As the kids red or watched their iPads, I wound back the month in my mind. Since school let out on the 10th, we’ve covered some ground— and still have so much summer left to go. Here’s a snapshot working back in time…

We went to the movies. Actually, we went twice— seeing the animated Spirit and In the Heights (just Marin and I with our dear friend and neighbor.) Both times we were nearly the only ones in the theatre. It was nice to sit in the dark with a humongous bucket of popcorn— which is really the only reason to go to the movies these days.

I did my first open water swim practice with Wave One at National Harbor. My first triathlon in nearly 20 years is coming up in 3 weeks. Hoping to avoid some of the inevitable panic during the swim, I figured some practice out of the pool in something chilly, brackish, murky and wave-y might help. Putting the weirdness of swimming in a public place where nearly everyone else is walking around fully clothed eating ice cream aside, this was a really great experience— the friendly group, calm, sparkly water with plenty of space was just awesome. Though I still I suspect all of this is just leading to me eventually being eaten by a shark (more on that phobia in a future post.)

Last week, the girls went to sleepaway camp for the first time at Camp Varsity in Madison, VA. They loved, loved, loved it. This baby step towards greater independence benefitted for all of us. While they were singing, hiking, and enjoying late-night “cabin talk,” Linc fully embraced his temporary status as an “only.” He enjoyed take-out, pool playdates, and having his grandparents and cousins all to himself at the annual River Bash. Brian and I got two date nights in a row which was pretty great too.

Before camp drop-off, we went cherry picking. This is one of those experiences with kids that never quite lives up to my imagination. It was HOT, a bit buggy, and uphill both ways through tall grass. It seemed like a good idea to get the big bucket. It wasn’t. We were all into it just long enough to cover the bottom with cherries. So it wasn’t long before I was yelling, “Just keep picking!!!” And all that annoyance was BEFORE I realized the pain in the ass it would be to pit them all. Ugh. What seemed like a quick, fun activity turned into a week-long project. The best thing that came out of this was these cherry bars. They were so good it was almost worth it. The other plus is that we have enough in the freezer to perfect our Luxardo maraschino recipe to keep us going with Old Fashions all winter.

The biggie this month was our trip to Ocean City, MD to visit the beach and Aunt Anna and cousin Jake. As a bonus, we got some chilly lunch and playtime in with Kelly and Ric’s Cambridge cousins.

As many of you know, Brian and I are not laying on the beach people. I hate sand, sand, and sun in anything but small quantities. Somehow we got three who LOVE the buckets, waves, shells, boogie boards, wet towels, snacks, and running back and forth to the water. Marin is like her Mom Mom T and could jump the waves for hours.

Brian spends his time grumbling about how different (subpar) the Maryland beaches are compared to New Jersey. He was part delighted and disgusted when the lifeguards actually called a meeting to warn about the riptide. Apparently, that would NEVER happen at the Jersey Shore. Here are just a few of the highlights from that trip.

Lastly, a couple of random highlights…

• Enjoying the most delicious mixed grill BBQ put on by our friends (including an actual Brazilian)— with marshmallows!

• Lots and lots of great food between our garden and nights out

• Backyard bubbles with neighbors, and, of course

• Plenty of screen time

San Fran, Yosemite, San Fran: Spring Break 2021

For spring break, we went to San Francisco, Yosemite National Park, then back to San Francisco again. The trip was bookended to allow for the logistics- long driving and flying times. Here are all those hours and miles condensed down to a quick 2 minute video.

In summary, it was great. I know I say that a lot but it’s true! Here were some of my highlights…

• The change from gray, chilly East Coast scenery to (unseasonable) 60-degree temps and bright blue skies. Both places were simply gorgeous and so refreshing.

• Getting back to Yosemite. It’s one of my most favorite places on the planet. It’s just spectacular- from the perspective-setting feeling of walking through the valley between massive, ancient rock walls, the bubbling of the Merced River, gushing falls, and grand views, just all of it.

• Walks and hikes with the kids with minimal complaining. I don’t want to jinx us, but we seemed to have turned a corner on enjoying outdoor experiences.

Catching up with my dear college friend Erin for pizza and wine on our last night.

• Going through the tank tunnels at the aquarium. It was such a simple, cool design to walk under the fish.

• Eating nearly all the groceries we bought- with no extra emergency stops for stuff we forgot. We’re getting good at planning meals to fix and eat where we’re staying. I only brought home a ½ jar of peanut butter and a box of mac and cheese. (Yes, this is a highlight because of how much I hate throwing away food.)

• The kids really got into the history on Alcatraz. The listened to every word of the audio tour— taking special interest in the escape attempts then sharing their ideas about how they would have done it. Baya takes after both my grandmothers and literally reads every pamphlet and every sign. It’s both great and incredibly tedious.

• Then there are all the little things I try to remember but know I’ll forget— like listening to the kids’ inside jokes with each other and made-up games. They really get along so well- except when they don’t. But through this pandemic we’re all getting better at figuring out the right carrots and sticks that make long days together in close quarters a little more manageable.

50K All Day

Start line selfie

We’re done. We’re totally done.

The Bel Monte 50K trail race was hard and fun and beautiful and, oh yeah, really hard. It took me 9 hours 14 minutes which was longer than I’d estimated. Looking back, there are a couple of places I might have picked it up but I don’t know what that would have done on the backend. I am so happy with how the whole thing went—gorgeous weather and really no issues other than the distance. Not one of my worries about being too hot or cold, falling, bears, eye-poking sticks, etc materialized.

Things I’d guessed right and wrong.

I had far fewer issues than I planned for. Of all of the stuff I my pack and drop-bag, I only ended up changing out my socks and putting more body glide on my feet. I didn’t need the extra shirt, jacket, gels, headlamp, or portable phone charger.

My main issue was that I had no idea where I was mileage-wise most of the time. I was using my fitbit which flaked (or I flaked) and was paused for the first 5 miles. I wasn't expecting it to be accurate on that kind of up and down terrain—but I figured it’d be better than nothing. It wasn't really. Anyone who knows my “math in my head skills” would understand this was a challenge for me. Looking at the number, I’d need to add 5, then subtract a guestimated amount for how far off it was. As I said, I was baffled most of the race.

There was this one random “robin” sign in the middle of course- there were no other ones like it. I don’t know who it was intended for or why this was the key word but I took it as a little sign of encouragement.

I was right I’d be alone most of it—but that was only on the way back. The way out was really fun because I was in a pack of similarly paced people all chatting. I kept up with two friends most of the way out. We’d talk a bit, then they’d continue their very light, friendly conversation. A couldn’t hear them well but it was so nice to have the sound of very casual, not-stressed conversation.

And why I couldn’t hear well? Well, my pack has a pouch for water or Gatorade. If I don’t push out the air at the top, it sloshes. Loudly. On top of that, at the last minute, I threw in a pack of Trader Joe’s gingermints thinking that might help settle my stomach if things got weird. That thinking wasn’t wrong—I just didn’t need to bring the entire tin. I sounded like a one-man band running down the trail. As I’d approach someone from the back, they’d pause turn and ask, “WHAT do you have in there?” Then, I’d have to explain. Again and again.

All the food worked out great. I had the most delicious Twinkie I’ve ever had, then later a tangerine which was AMAZING. I opened some Doritos to get me up a long set of switchbacks on the way home. The bag only lasted one switchback and I realized I can't huff and puff and chew at the same time.

Brian did awesome. I’d forgotten until he reminded me that on an out and back course we’d see each other at some point. I’m always happy to see him but that was a pretty extra happy moment.

Onto the playlist… this seriously was a highlight. I didn’t start it until the turnaround. I loved that many of the songs were new to me. I also loved that there was such an eclectic mix.

#212 and #213 done and so happy!

This morning, my legs are crazy sore. I can’t remember another time being quite this incapacitated. It was so worth it. The experience was everything I hoped for and more. I don’t yet know if I’d do another. Brian and I will surely take on another “project” like this.

Oh, and that’s the other thing… Lynda and Marc (Brian’s mom and brother) made this possible by staying with the kids. We got 2 nights in a hotel, the race, and some much-needed time on the couch with Panera, a couple of beers, and 2 John Mulvaney specials on Netflix.

If you’re ultra—or even just trail running-curious, let’s talk!

2 days to go and all the feelings

There are 2 more days until our 50K ultra marathon— 34 miles of up and down over rocks and roots through the George Washington National Forest in central Virginia.

When I finished my last run this morning, training was official done. Now I’m just waiting- obsessing over details like toes socks, buying the kids’ groceries, and dying my hair.

I’m anxious.

I estimate it’ll take me 8-8.5 hours to finish- but I really have no idea. However many it is just seems like a long time to be outside. Deep thoughts.

With so many miles and so few people, I know I’ll be alone most of the day.

I’m worried.

I’m worried about being hot. I'm also worried about being cold. I keep opening the back door to intentionally notice the weather while looking at the app. “What does 42 actually feeeeeeel like?”

Other worries include blisters, stumbling, falling, getting lost, getting an eye poked out with a branch, bears, being so tired that seeing a bear doesn’t motivate me at all to run faster, etc.

Maybe most of all, I’m worried about giving up then remembering I can’t give up because there is no way out but on my own legs. Oh god. What if I have to get rescued?! Ugh!

I keep dragging my attention back to the positives. The feeling of moving with and through the trees that I love so much. The feeling of caffeinated butterflies and the smell of Bengay at the start line. The feeling of relieved accomplishment as I turn to see the finish chute, time clocks, snack tables, and smiles. The feeling of hearing a “good job” from an equally wrung out stranger.

But I’m still nervous. It’s going to be hard and I’m going to hurt. And I remember that’s why I wanted to do this to begin with.

From experience, I know that whatever is going to happen will happen. Then, it’ll be done. Saturday will turn into Sunday and I’ll move on to the next thing. I’ll have learned something. I’ll settle on a feeling of satisfaction in finishing the training and spending this time with Brian.

I’m grateful.

When I first shared the idea of an ultra back in October, I asked if he’d coach me. He said yes and took that role to heart. When he decided to run it, as well. I was overjoyed. He put together our training plan. He was at the door after each run to analyze what worked and what changes we needed to make. He figured out my shoes, gear, and snacks. He studied the course, booked the hotel, and arranged for kid coverage with his mom and brother.

Talking through our training has been a welcome alternative to the kids’ school stresses, hassles at work, politics, and the pandemic. This race has been something to do together. Ish. He’ll run his race and I’ll run mine. Like other things in the big bucket of "life while married", our runs are synchronous but solo achievements. On Saturday, our roles shift from doing with and for to simply witnessing the other do their best for themselves.

I’m also grateful for all the support from family and friends. Every single person had nothing but encouraging words. I appreciated the hundreds of check-ins throughout. I’ll be thinking of you all.

So here at end of this part looking forward to the next…

I’m ready.

Getting a grip

3 minute read

Peace, love, and masks

“Get a grip”

That was our Superintendent’s advice to us- a group of parents organizing ourselves on Facebook around the return to schools. The tweet popped up last Monday, a little after lunch. I burst out laughing, dotting my screen with little bubbles of Razz-Cranberry La Croix.

It was the validating bone the group needed to gnaw on for the day. “See?! See?!”

You see, outraged folk without direct power need moments to react to, to talk about. Without offense, we just stew and speculate and stew some more.

A couple of weeks ago, I’d wandered into this newly hatched Facebook group. It was started as an online gathering place for parents wanting our kids back in school. We shared our frustrations with months of changing back-to-school dates. While this dynamic is playing out all over the country, this group is just for our small Falls Church City community. These sideboards allowed it to get personal, fast.

Threads range from reasoned to ridiculous- some devolved into rumor and blame. As confusion and negativity grew, our Superintendent was a frequent target. So none of us should have been surprised. If we’d intended the combative dialog to be a trap, he walked right in with “get a grip.”

The funny thing is that it’s not actually bad advice.

When emotions run hot, we benefit from taking a minute to breathe, hook back into reality, and get clear on what’s most important to us.

Unfortunately, he was the wrong messenger.

It reminds me of this too true quote about calm down.

On cue, our Facebook group went bananas. Surely with a sigh and an eye roll, he deleted the tweet and went back to work.

But his intent stuck with me. I tried it on, looked in the mirror, did a little spin.

What would “getting a grip” look like for me?

I lost my grip a while back when I started to obsess over figuring out our teachers’ concerns. I wanted to know which teachers were worried about what issues. I figured fears of contracting the virus could only be part of the truth— given the sea of contrary data on transmission. If I could just know the REAL reasons, we could magically manifest the solutions, and unlock this whole thing. I reached out to the limits of my personal relationships with our teachers and came up with genuine assurances that they were ready and eager to get back. Who then were the resistors? Where were they? What was really going on? I needed to know!

So, how does one empathy-drained and entitled mom move from a focus on what’s owed to me and my kids to one who knows there are no “right” answers in this confusing and unprecedented situation?

For me, “getting a grip” meant accepting that there are answers I can’t have. And in the absence of information, I can’t assume to know how to fix the issues.

I’m also reflecting on temporary versus permanent damage.

Damage to our kids is what we’ve been worried about all along—falling short of knowledge standards, friendships neglected into extinction, missed competitive skill-building time on the field, long-term screen addictions…. and the big catch-all for social and emotional wellness.

After sitting with this for a couple of days, I’m coming around to a mantra repeated to me by more than a few wise women. This is temporary. It’s going to be okay.

When calm, I know this to be true. Believing we’re going to be okay requires faith that these are passing conditions we can manage through our resourcefulness and resilience.

And there’s still the very real possibility of our kids being better for this. Overcoming obstacles is the unifying theme among people we admire. What if the challenges of the last year end up becoming the very thing that makes this generation great?

Permanent damage is different and the result of broken relationships.

What if our acute frustration now ended up permanently damaging—or destroying—the relationships and community spirit we bought into in the first place?

Every one of us moved here on purpose. We wanted to make our homes in these neighborhoods because they’re filled with other generous, caring families. Those families became our friends. We wanted these schools because they’re filled with ambitious, connected teachers and administrators. Without these friends, neighbors, and partners in education, we’re just rows of houses, blocks of brick buildings, and a dry, state-mandated curriculum.

With a bit of newfound grip, what if we focused instead on…

Kids back in school. We turn down the heat and pause the sharp-edged emails and calls. We trust the administration to do their work without distraction. These are smart people combing through every possible scenario and scientific study to try to meet an impossible task. We’ve been heard. We’ve reaffirmed we all want the same thing. So now let’s focus on getting to Feb. 22nd and go from there. They now need our energetic support.

To teachers, specifically, we so appreciate you and what you do. I’m worried that a few are speaking out, and the majority are left unheard. Each of you brings a unique perspective, vision, and skillset to the classroom. Schools aren’t the sum of interchangeable parts. They’re a dynamic collection of individuals. Please consider not letting anyone speak for you who can’t speak to the whole of you. Advocate for yourself. Let’s get back to honoring your unique contribution and individuality.

As a community, we need to get our shit together, together. Through formalized groups like our PTA or informal blocks of neighbors and friends, we can come out of this stronger and more connected then before. We have to.

Remembering Papa

Today was the first anniversary of Papa’s passing— or better, the first anniversary of the reunification with the love of his life, Mamaw.

I reflected on him and on them as I ran this morning. As the dark faded into day, the sun came up in the most spectacular orange, purple, and blue streaks. The sky was dotted with clouds above the plain suburban rooftops, powerlines, stoplights, and store signs.

It was the perfect picture of beauty in real life. It was so “them.”

It’s hard to believe this was only a year ago. The pandemic gained momentum in the US shortly after his death. Knowing what I know now, I feel so thankful that he went when he did. His closest family was able to be there with him. Then we were able to gather and truly celebrate his life.

A year later, the world is so different.

We were all allowed to take special-to-us things from his house, their house. I have a couple items- a bowl, a rosary, some clip-on earrings. The most visible is a little sign that left his patio for mine that says, “If you can be anything, be kind.”

For me, this is no throwaway quote. It’s a call to action that I’ll work on every day for the rest of my life. It’s his legacy and my opportunity.

Miss you. Love you!

Post from February 7, 2020

Papa passed yesterday.

He was this man. Not that one or that one. This one.

He was all the things you’d expect and were expected of a man with 96 years. He was a WWII vet, devoted husband, hardworking father, faithful parishioner, and Alabama football fan.

He embodied that spirit of the “Greatest Generation”- the generation that gave so much and asked so little.

But, of course, it’s not the grand accomplishments and generalities that will be missed. I will miss very specific things.

Little details made him extraordinary to me and probably all of you.

It was the smell of his house- a mix of cut grass, aftershave, and hot coffee.

It was the way he’d quietly disappear to grab another chair when someone new walked into the room.

It was how he’d wallpapered the kitchen with our cards and pictures out of appreciation- and a little playful defiance. “Mamaw would have never let me do this.” Then, how he’d pull out his hanky to dab his blue eyes- those same blue eyes my daughter has.

It was the sound of him clapping. He’d lean in with that whole-body smile from the other side of the security gate as you walked off the plane.

It was the way he kissed my newborn’s spiky hair and said she was a “good holdin’ baby.”

I was about 10. We were standing at the back door getting ready to go somewhere. The phone on the table must have made him think of it. He asked if I’d heard the new Stevie Wonder song, “I Just Called to Say I Love You.” I had and wondered why he was asking. “I just think that’s such a nice idea.”

It was how he always answered on the first ring.

He was the kindest. This one. Aunt Carol DuPree called him a living saint.

Over the last couple of weeks during this decline, he’s been more on my mind and in my heart than ever. The craziest thing has happened. I see him everywhere. Not him exactly, but I see overwhelming kindness.

It was there at the FedEx store in the manager helping an older man struggling with his computer. It was there in the staff meeting when one client prompted a standing ovation for another returning to work after cataract surgery. It was there on the street when a neighbor gushed over our new puppy. All these were just yesterday.

I didn’t just feel his kindness. By example, he reminds me to see it, to share it.

Yes, he was our living saint. And, now he’s our named angel. He’s one we can call on by whatever name he was to you. Daddy, Papaw, Richard.

He’ll pick up on the first ring.

Eat, Run, Play & Repeat

Whoever “they” are say most New Year’s Resolutions fall away after the second week in February. I’m beating that average.

One of my vaguer goals for 2021 was to write more on the blog. I’d decided to half-ass it even more than normal by posting bulleted lists with a couple of pictures. After all, the intent behind the blog is to provide evidence to my future self and kids that we did some stuff. This was my attempt to lower the bar basically to the ground. As a master listed, I figured this shouldn’t be too hard.

Well. I’m at exactly zero posts for January.

And that’s fine. Sort of.

These posts aren’t due to anyone else- which is precisely the problem. I deliver on anything with someone else expecting it on the other end. This is not that. So many of my ideas get stowed in a black hole of a bucket called “maybe someday.”

I rationalize not writing by reciting my wishful thinking that I should be able to write as fast as I can type (I would have crushed in the secretarial pool.) Because writing feels slow, it also feels indulgent- an emotion that’s hard to add to the pile of other stuff I already feel guilty about.

So here I am on a quiet, snowy morning. All the “have to dos” are pretty much done so, here I go restarting my resolution to write bullet-y, picture-y posts on the blog.

And what exactly did January 2021 look like ‘round here? I’ll say upfront that this is just the easy, light kid stuff. Streaming through the minds of all the adults involved were the politics and attacks on the Capitol, a hope-filled inauguration, and the ongoing mess of school reopening (or not, as is the case.)

We started with a big barn bang. We took a family horseback riding lesson at @TalbotRun in Mount Airy. It’s one a handful of activities that everyone enjoys equally. We left chatty, laughing, and smelling like horseshit. Joy, joy, joy.

We ate well. One of my goals for the year is to get the kids cooking more and expanding their tastes beyond syrup and anything in nugget form. My sister and her husband gave us a gift certificate to a super fancy restaurant in DC with this gorgeous winterized outdoor patio. The food was just amazing. Linc had a Sprite. Meanwhile, we sampled all the major meal delivery services- Home Chef, Blue Apron, and Hello Fresh. All were great. We have one more to try before deciding if we’ll keep this going.

Brian and I continued our training programs for the 50K trail ultra in March. Running and thinking about running now occupies the few brain cells leftover after kids, work, and what’s for dinner. Last week, I did my first marathon-distance training run—which just surprised me for reasons I might write down at some point. The key takeaway is that it feels good to do something you never thought you could or would—even if your legs feel like concrete pilings afterwards.

We celebrated Marin’s 10th birthday on January 24th. We were so fortunate to have use of a good friend’s spacious and comfy ski house at Deep Creek. Conditions were great. Like horseback riding, everyone loves skiing. This eliminates the need for Brian or me to cajole or bribe them into participating- so it’s more fun for all. The girls skied their first black diamond. Baya is an exceptional and fearless skier. What makes it (secretly) fun for us is seeing how much she enjoys being better than her siblings in this one sport.

And lastly- the hair ordeal of 2021. After several days of hot tubbing and hot shotting around the slopes, Baya developed a knot that felt (no kidding) like a dead squirrel attached to her head. It started below her right ear curved around her neck. After a lot of trying and tears, we took her to the Hair Cuttery. They were AMAZING- so patient and kind. What started as a job for one woman, turned into 3. They worked and worked on her for about an hour and finally were able to comb and cut most of it out. We all resolved to really, really this time be good about brushing and braiding each day. I see another trip back for a serious trim in our near future.

Anyway, that’s all for now. I hope to see me back here some time before 4th of July!

Restlessness

The cure for restlessness isn’t rest. It’s movement.

Restlessness signals something out of balance. It’s the energy to do something combined with uncertainty. “But, what?”

You can poke around doing a dozen different things. Is this it? Is THIS it? Is this IT?

Or you can sit with the question, “What am I being called to do today?”

The answer might surprise you. It usually does me. It’s rarely the last email that came in, what’s on sale at Anthropologie, or a cracker.

It could be an unfinished conversation, a dangling connection, or an idea that didn’t get its due.

What is it?

Even the tiniest spark helps. Clarity is a gift. And it’s like the breeze. It comes and goes. You can’t hold it forever or make it different. But you can stop, feel it, and let it move you.