I love each of my children individually and even though it can't really be measured, I like to say that I love them all equally. Which mostly means, profoundly. But I do make note that sometimes I have different bonds with each of them.

With Steven, he is a heck of a bike rider. He rides straight and very fast, and begging pardon for the pun, he is a tireless rider. I'm like that, too. I could pack a backpack with food and with plenty of water I could stay out on my bike all day. And so, it's one of those things I really enjoy doing with him when we get a chance to get out alone. Steven finds great pleasure in taking his saved quarters and going in search of yard sales to find bargains on old toys. I like to take him out because it gives me a chance to work with him on paying attention, understanding direction and figuring out his right from left, but mostly, it's just fun.

Like going on a treasure hunt, following the haphazardly hung, bright pink or yellow address signs on telephone poles, leading to more signs with promising drawn-on arrows, and then, it's a matter of keeping a sharp eye for balloons on mailboxes pointing us to a halleluah-chorus of junk-filled driveways; a joyous plethora of old or broken, and almost-always dusty, crap.

On Saturday I ran into another mother who I know from a common circle of friends we share. I was telling her of my dilemma of working and then finding things to do away from home so I don't have to stay home at night to clean because my house is almost unbearable to me. Now look, I'm a freak, I know it. My idea of a clean house is that of a Martha Stewart level. I don't just want it tidy, and I don't just want to live in a clean house, I want it fucking CLEAN. And you know and I know: a man, 3 kids and a furry cat, it ain't never gonna happen. The house isn't gross or anything, it's just incredibly lived-in. And so, you know, I deal; I just leave.

(I see often on mother's blogs the Phyllis Diller quote about cleaning during childhood is like shoveling in a snow storm and it's the most apt analogy I've ever heard).

I'm not mean or a nag, and I prefer not to bitch about it, so I just find other things to do instead of coming home to the lived-in, albeit perceived, wreck. I'm tired after work and more work isn't my idea of a nice evening, but the dilemma it leaves me with creates it as a topic of conversation whenever I'm with another motherly kind of woman; mainly a co-dependent thing for the reassurance and support in telling me that I'm doing the right thing by ignoring it.

The lady I spoke with the other day, the lady from the yard sale, agreed and clucked sympathy, which I like, but also presented to me an alternative. She is also in business with her husband which leaves her little time for homemaking and, "So," she said to me, "I found me a wife."

I was like, "A wife?"
She said, "Yup. I pay her $27 for 3 hours and since she doesn't just assist me with work-related things, she also does housework for me, I can't call her an assistant, so I call her "a wife.""

Hmmm, the idea was intriguing to me... a wife.... I could use a wife. So I considered the idea of it. Not in any serious way since we all know how bad I am about commitment. But, the idea of paying someone else to... clean...

"Nicholas." I said later that evening.
"Hm." He grunted from the sofa while watching t.v.
"I have this idea." I said.
He rolled his eyes at me.
I reponded,"Ok no, listen, really."
He goes, "What?"
I proposed. "If you clean my bathroom I'll give you $10."
He raised his eyes to look at me... I've got his attention now.
I told him, "If you clean my kitchen floor, and the wallboards, I'll give you $10 more."
Pressing further I said, "And. if you fold all of the clothes I'll give you $25 in all."
He was doubtful, but negotiated, "OK. You're saying $25. That day. After I do it. You'll give me $25."
I promised. "I will."

I love each of my children individually and even though it can't really be measured, I like to say that I love them all equally. Which mostly means, profoundly. But I do make note that sometimes I have different bonds with each of them.

With Steven, he is a heck of a bike rider. He rides straight and very fast, and begging pardon for the pun, he is a tireless rider. I'm like that, too. I could pack a backpack with food and with plenty of water I could stay out on my bike all day. And so, it's one of those things I really enjoy doing with him when we get a chance to get out alone. Steven finds great pleasure in taking his saved quarters and going in search of yard sales to find bargains on old toys. I like to take him out because it gives me a chance to work with him on paying attention, understanding direction and figuring out his right from left, but mostly, it's just fun.

Like going on a treasure hunt, following the haphazardly hung, bright pink or yellow address signs on telephone poles, leading to more signs with promising drawn-on arrows, and then, it's a matter of keeping a sharp eye for balloons on mailboxes pointing us to a halleluah-chorus of junk-filled driveways; a joyous plethora of old or broken, and almost-always dusty, crap.

On Saturday I ran into another mother who I know from a common circle of friends we share. I was telling her of my dilemma of working and then finding things to do away from home so I don't have to stay home at night to clean because my house is almost unbearable to me. Now look, I'm a freak, I know it. My idea of a clean house is that of a Martha Stewart level. I don't just want it tidy, and I don't just want to live in a clean house, I want it fucking CLEAN. And you know and I know: a man, 3 kids and a furry cat, it ain't never gonna happen. The house isn't gross or anything, it's just incredibly lived-in. And so, you know, I deal; I just leave.

(I see often on mother's blogs the Phyllis Diller quote about cleaning during childhood is like shoveling in a snow storm and it's the most apt analogy I've ever heard).

I'm not mean or a nag, and I prefer not to bitch about it, so I just find other things to do instead of coming home to the lived-in, albeit perceived, wreck. I'm tired after work and more work isn't my idea of a nice evening, but the dilemma it leaves me with creates it as a topic of conversation whenever I'm with another motherly kind of woman; mainly a co-dependent thing for the reassurance and support in telling me that I'm doing the right thing by ignoring it.

The lady I spoke with the other day, the lady from the yard sale, agreed and clucked sympathy, which I like, but also presented to me an alternative. She is also in business with her husband which leaves her little time for homemaking and, "So," she said to me, "I found me a wife."

I was like, "A wife?"
She said, "Yup. I pay her $27 for 3 hours and since she doesn't just assist me with work-related things, she also does housework for me, I can't call her an assistant, so I call her "a wife.""

Hmmm, the idea was intriguing to me... a wife.... I could use a wife. So I considered the idea of it. Not in any serious way since we all know how bad I am about commitment. But, the idea of paying someone else to... clean...

"Nicholas." I said later that evening.
"Hm." He grunted from the sofa while watching t.v.
"I have this idea." I said.
He rolled his eyes at me.
I reponded,"Ok no, listen, really."
He goes, "What?"
I proposed. "If you clean my bathroom I'll give you $10."
He raised his eyes to look at me... I've got his attention now.
I told him, "If you clean my kitchen floor, and the wallboards, I'll give you $10 more."
Pressing further I said, "And. if you fold all of the clothes I'll give you $25 in all."
He was doubtful, but negotiated, "OK. You're saying $25. That day. After I do it. You'll give me $25."
I promised. "I will."

My head has been in other places. I'm not very interested in writing right now. I'm planning a weekend vacation, so ... that's taking up my extra thinking time. And reading. I'm reading The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly.

But, not anything relevant to that, there is this fellow named Randy...I don't remember, but he is the professor who was dx'd with pancreatic cancer who everyone knew about for a few months. The professionals gave him just a few months to live. And I remember reading something about it, somewhere, but didn't take the bait to hone into the hype around him, and of, apparently, a video made of him giving a "last lecture."

Probably because he was on Oprah. Since... I have a thing about that. I won't even read books that Oprah reads. I don't dislike her or anything, it's just a silly principle I feel somewhat stubborn about, and... I don't even know what it is. The principle being: Don't read anything Oprah reads? It really makes no sense. But I think it has to do with having a hard time taking her very seriously with as seriously rich as she is. I think I'd admire a rich person more who touts doing good unto others if they do good by giving their obscene-amount-of-money-that-they-could-never-spend-in-this-lifetime, away.

Now, you know I'll examine this judgement I'm making more appropriately since god knows that mine is not the unexamined life. Yes, I can't help to examine it since my albatross is that I'm examining the hell out of every breath and heartbeat I take and make, to be fair. But I'm not going to do that today.

I wanted to write here to say that I heard that this man called Randy, died this week. So, out of curiosity... yeah, out of that... I googled him and found the popular lecture that he made at Carnegie-Mellon, where he was a professor, which actually is called "The Last Lecture." And also, (ugh) "Acheiving Your Childhood Dreams." (gulp)

With all due respect to the dead, ofcourse, the title made me squirm a little. I saw it and went, "...hrmmm..." since it turned, a little, the idea of all of it, whatever 'it' is..... but, even beyond Oprah, it made it a little more... kitsch-ier.

But, you know how on you tube the vid starts as soon as you click on the link... So, it started and there I was...well, watching it. Almost immediately, I found it and him to be pretty charming. Yes, I admit that he is/was very attractive so.. hey, I'm human. Aside from that (which, I know, is a little creepy to comment on a dead man's attraction. But I'm certain he would be flattered...), the lecture was entertaining and interesting, occasionally stirring and many times the advice quite precise and helpful. Overall, I offer it high praise, it was pretty impressive and I was sorry about the short time he had here, especially the days with his very young children. Yes, I even (snif) cried a little. It's just so sad, even as I know it's a numbers game, and we all have to face it sooner or later, it's still ...well, the brevity of it all.

But, if you feel like spending an hour (a little more) of your own precious life moments watching him, you'll find the lecture here:

RandyCarnegieMellonDude

My head has been in other places. I'm not very interested in writing right now. I'm planning a weekend vacation, so ... that's taking up my extra thinking time. And reading. I'm reading The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly.

But, not anything relevant to that, there is this fellow named Randy...I don't remember, but he is the professor who was dx'd with pancreatic cancer who everyone knew about for a few months. The professionals gave him just a few months to live. And I remember reading something about it, somewhere, but didn't take the bait to hone into the hype around him, and of, apparently, a video made of him giving a "last lecture."

Probably because he was on Oprah. Since... I have a thing about that. I won't even read books that Oprah reads. I don't dislike her or anything, it's just a silly principle I feel somewhat stubborn about, and... I don't even know what it is. The principle being: Don't read anything Oprah reads? It really makes no sense. But I think it has to do with having a hard time taking her very seriously with as seriously rich as she is. I think I'd admire a rich person more who touts doing good unto others if they do good by giving their obscene-amount-of-money-that-they-could-never-spend-in-this-lifetime, away.

Now, you know I'll examine this judgement I'm making more appropriately since god knows that mine is not the unexamined life. Yes, I can't help to examine it since my albatross is that I'm examining the hell out of every breath and heartbeat I take and make, to be fair. But I'm not going to do that today.

I wanted to write here to say that I heard that this man called Randy, died this week. So, out of curiosity... yeah, out of that... I googled him and found the popular lecture that he made at Carnegie-Mellon, where he was a professor, which actually is called "The Last Lecture." And also, (ugh) "Acheiving Your Childhood Dreams." (gulp)

With all due respect to the dead, ofcourse, the title made me squirm a little. I saw it and went, "...hrmmm..." since it turned, a little, the idea of all of it, whatever 'it' is..... but, even beyond Oprah, it made it a little more... kitsch-ier.

But, you know how on you tube the vid starts as soon as you click on the link... So, it started and there I was...well, watching it. Almost immediately, I found it and him to be pretty charming. Yes, I admit that he is/was very attractive so.. hey, I'm human. Aside from that (which, I know, is a little creepy to comment on a dead man's attraction. But I'm certain he would be flattered...), the lecture was entertaining and interesting, occasionally stirring and many times the advice quite precise and helpful. Overall, I offer it high praise, it was pretty impressive and I was sorry about the short time he had here, especially the days with his very young children. Yes, I even (snif) cried a little. It's just so sad, even as I know it's a numbers game, and we all have to face it sooner or later, it's still ...well, the brevity of it all.

But, if you feel like spending an hour (a little more) of your own precious life moments watching him, you'll find the lecture here:

RandyCarnegieMellonDude

While

While finishing a novel in today's late afternoon at a park near the college not far from my house, I found myself nodding off. As I was easing into a catnap the sigh in my head, "Who wouldn't like this? Falling asleep on a blanket on the grass under the shade of an oak tree on a summer day...."

As sentimental as it sounds, I think it was more from having been being away from home so much that this Summer seems to be going by quickly, and many of the recreational or revitalizing things I've enjoyed in the past summers occur only occasionally. It's not a complaint, though; in fact, it's in my mind that I appreciate all of it all the more because my life is varied now.

While walking last evening my husband told me about the movie of "Beowulf," from beginning to end. For two hours while walking, even in the dark on the way home, he explained the entire play of the film. I'd interject something here and there with an idea about the symbols of the mythology, but mainly, I listened with true delight. I didn't watch it with him the weekend he rented it (or borrowed it, I'm not sure), whenever he did, and I'm so glad I didn't. Because it was a wonderful re-telling last night. I was a captive audience of one.

This is a great happiness.
The air is silk.
There is milk in the looks
That come from Strangers.
I could not be happier
If I were bread and you could eat me.
Joy is dangerous.
It fills me with secrets.
"Yes" hisses in my veins.
The pains I take to hide myself
Are sheer as glass.
Surely this will pass,
The wind like kisses,
The music in the soup,
The group of trees,
Laughing as I say their names.

It is all hosannah.
It is all prayer.
Jerusalem is walking in the world.
Jerusalem is walking in the world.

Poem from Walking in the World by Julia Cameron

While

While finishing a novel in today's late afternoon at a park near the college not far from my house, I found myself nodding off. As I was easing into a catnap the sigh in my head, "Who wouldn't like this? Falling asleep on a blanket on the grass under the shade of an oak tree on a summer day...."

As sentimental as it sounds, I think it was more from having been being away from home so much that this Summer seems to be going by quickly, and many of the recreational or revitalizing things I've enjoyed in the past summers occur only occasionally. It's not a complaint, though; in fact, it's in my mind that I appreciate all of it all the more because my life is varied now.

While walking last evening my husband told me about the movie of "Beowulf," from beginning to end. For two hours while walking, even in the dark on the way home, he explained the entire play of the film. I'd interject something here and there with an idea about the symbols of the mythology, but mainly, I listened with true delight. I didn't watch it with him the weekend he rented it (or borrowed it, I'm not sure), whenever he did, and I'm so glad I didn't. Because it was a wonderful re-telling last night. I was a captive audience of one.

This is a great happiness.
The air is silk.
There is milk in the looks
That come from Strangers.
I could not be happier
If I were bread and you could eat me.
Joy is dangerous.
It fills me with secrets.
"Yes" hisses in my veins.
The pains I take to hide myself
Are sheer as glass.
Surely this will pass,
The wind like kisses,
The music in the soup,
The group of trees,
Laughing as I say their names.

It is all hosannah.
It is all prayer.
Jerusalem is walking in the world.
Jerusalem is walking in the world.

Poem from Walking in the World by Julia Cameron

Now shall I walk
or shall I ride?
"Ride," Pleasure said,
"Walk," Joy replied.
~W.H. Davies

Last evening was joy-full, but this morning was sheer pleasure....

Came home from an all-day outdoor event yesterday to find that while I was gone my husband found two new rims, and replaced the old ones, on my almost-obsolete bike. The previous rims were cracked near a couple of the spokes and would have been treacherous for my brain had I been on a downhill and the rim suddenly decide it was high-time to stop holding all that weight and collapse. I'd actually spoken to the guys at the same bike store a year ago, and they were trying to sell me a set for over $400. DH went there yesterday and the helpful salesman sold him two mismatched ones for $90. It pays to be a dude even these days.

The ride this morning was very hot, near to the high 80's and the humidity swelling to 70%, but the breeze from the ride compensated for the heat from the air and road.

After DH's morning run, we put in about 16 miles on the bikes and ended up at a diner we like for a hearty, well-earned breakfast:

2 eggs over medium,
3 pieces of bacon,
potatoes and
two pieces of homemade, whole-wheat toast

Now shall I walk
or shall I ride?
"Ride," Pleasure said,
"Walk," Joy replied.
~W.H. Davies

Last evening was joy-full, but this morning was sheer pleasure....

Came home from an all-day outdoor event yesterday to find that while I was gone my husband found two new rims, and replaced the old ones, on my almost-obsolete bike. The previous rims were cracked near a couple of the spokes and would have been treacherous for my brain had I been on a downhill and the rim suddenly decide it was high-time to stop holding all that weight and collapse. I'd actually spoken to the guys at the same bike store a year ago, and they were trying to sell me a set for over $400. DH went there yesterday and the helpful salesman sold him two mismatched ones for $90. It pays to be a dude even these days.

The ride this morning was very hot, near to the high 80's and the humidity swelling to 70%, but the breeze from the ride compensated for the heat from the air and road.

After DH's morning run, we put in about 16 miles on the bikes and ended up at a diner we like for a hearty, well-earned breakfast:

2 eggs over medium,
3 pieces of bacon,
potatoes and
two pieces of homemade, whole-wheat toast

Conversations

While reading my blog with Lea:

Dd: "What is your password?"
Smiling Me (yay, at last I can tell someone): "It's *******."
Confused Me: "Wait, no, it's **********. Yeah, **********..... "
Dd: "Oh." (smiling) (but not seeing the big deal)

Me, hearing it out loud, it is just a word. In my head it's hilarious.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Last evening on our walk, I was telling my husband about something I'd read that afternoon in the book I'm reading, The Monsters of Templeton by Laura Groff. I'm really enjoying this book, btw. It's complicated, but there is a brilliant young woman, an academic, who has come back to her small hometown in NY because she is pregnant by a professor who she was with as an assistant on an achaeology dig in Alaska. She tried to run over his wife with a car when the older woman arrived to confront them about their affair. Anyhow, she comes home to escape legal trouble and to decide whether or not she is going to keep "the lump" forming in her belly. And unwittingly begins to uncover a mystery her mother presents to her about her heritage. Yes, there is a monster! There are ghosts galore. It's a novel with the inclusion of many main characters from several generations, but they all kind of twist into this interconnected warming amalgam of colorful, interesting fucked-upness.

Anyhow, there is a scene in the book. Ok, her mother, who was a bohemian from the 60's, is now a born again Christian who is dating a local minister and the younger woman is not eager to accept him. Actually, she is in contempt of him for obvious reasons; not surprisingly, he's sort of an idiot. She is in quite a bit of turmoil, ofcourse, but as a personality maintains a sort of repressive, stoic demeanor with a dry humor. He has arrived for breakfast at their house one morning, in shorts and boots, and they are discussing hiking:

"Going for a hike?" I said.
"Indeed," he said. "I hear you're quite the hiker, as well."
"I was," I said. "Then I moved to San Francisco. The mountains aren't far, but you get so into your life in the city, all that excitement, all that movement, you find yourself lucky to go out into the hills once in awhile to trot around. To be honest, I have so little time, I hardly ever go anymore..."
He looked disappointed in me, and said, "But God's good earth is what he gave us to forget our worldly cares."
I just said, "Huh," for the sake of my tired mother moving in the kitchen beyond the doorframe, without pointing out that that the earth is the world..."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

We had clear skies all day yesterday, a scorcher of summery heat with thick moisture rising from the ground and a background noise of heavy humid silence and cicadas hum. My husband came in from work and as I was tying my shoes on the porch to walk, the sun was suddenly gone and I thought I heard thunder. I yelled in the door, "Honey, can you check the radar?" A moment later he yelled back, "It's totally clear!" Hmm, the sky answered with some more distant rumbling after that.

About 5 minutes later he said, "Come and see this!" I went into the house and on the television I watched the radar as a storm cell formed right out of the blue, right over our city, bubbling outward like a rapidly dividing green zygote. And then, outside there was lightning, a bellow and a sudden downpour, a saturating din of cats and dogs.

But as fast as it came, it was gone. Before I left for my evening trek I was out in the driveway to watch the western sky, where the cerulean blanket returned to cover us with a soft sun. My daughter hollered at me from her bike as she was riding away, "I'll call you if I see a rainbow!" I watched her little tanned body pumping the cranks of that purple bike, colt-legged under blue plaid shorts, her pink-shirted back, golden hair shining and I hollered back, "I already see one!" :)

Conversations

While reading my blog with Lea:

Dd: "What is your password?"
Smiling Me (yay, at last I can tell someone): "It's *******."
Confused Me: "Wait, no, it's **********. Yeah, **********..... "
Dd: "Oh." (smiling) (but not seeing the big deal)

Me, hearing it out loud, it is just a word. In my head it's hilarious.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Last evening on our walk, I was telling my husband about something I'd read that afternoon in the book I'm reading, The Monsters of Templeton by Laura Groff. I'm really enjoying this book, btw. It's complicated, but there is a brilliant young woman, an academic, who has come back to her small hometown in NY because she is pregnant by a professor who she was with as an assistant on an achaeology dig in Alaska. She tried to run over his wife with a car when the older woman arrived to confront them about their affair. Anyhow, she comes home to escape legal trouble and to decide whether or not she is going to keep "the lump" forming in her belly. And unwittingly begins to uncover a mystery her mother presents to her about her heritage. Yes, there is a monster! There are ghosts galore. It's a novel with the inclusion of many main characters from several generations, but they all kind of twist into this interconnected warming amalgam of colorful, interesting fucked-upness.

Anyhow, there is a scene in the book. Ok, her mother, who was a bohemian from the 60's, is now a born again Christian who is dating a local minister and the younger woman is not eager to accept him. Actually, she is in contempt of him for obvious reasons; not surprisingly, he's sort of an idiot. She is in quite a bit of turmoil, ofcourse, but as a personality maintains a sort of repressive, stoic demeanor with a dry humor. He has arrived for breakfast at their house one morning, in shorts and boots, and they are discussing hiking:

"Going for a hike?" I said.
"Indeed," he said. "I hear you're quite the hiker, as well."
"I was," I said. "Then I moved to San Francisco. The mountains aren't far, but you get so into your life in the city, all that excitement, all that movement, you find yourself lucky to go out into the hills once in awhile to trot around. To be honest, I have so little time, I hardly ever go anymore..."
He looked disappointed in me, and said, "But God's good earth is what he gave us to forget our worldly cares."
I just said, "Huh," for the sake of my tired mother moving in the kitchen beyond the doorframe, without pointing out that that the earth is the world..."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

We had clear skies all day yesterday, a scorcher of summery heat with thick moisture rising from the ground and a background noise of heavy humid silence and cicadas hum. My husband came in from work and as I was tying my shoes on the porch to walk, the sun was suddenly gone and I thought I heard thunder. I yelled in the door, "Honey, can you check the radar?" A moment later he yelled back, "It's totally clear!" Hmm, the sky answered with some more distant rumbling after that.

About 5 minutes later he said, "Come and see this!" I went into the house and on the television I watched the radar as a storm cell formed right out of the blue, right over our city, bubbling outward like a rapidly dividing green zygote. And then, outside there was lightning, a bellow and a sudden downpour, a saturating din of cats and dogs.

But as fast as it came, it was gone. Before I left for my evening trek I was out in the driveway to watch the western sky, where the cerulean blanket returned to cover us with a soft sun. My daughter hollered at me from her bike as she was riding away, "I'll call you if I see a rainbow!" I watched her little tanned body pumping the cranks of that purple bike, colt-legged under blue plaid shorts, her pink-shirted back, golden hair shining and I hollered back, "I already see one!" :)

Work today. I took the kids to the pool afterward and we swam for a few hours. Met up with some friends there, and later, my husband and I walked tonight after our work was done. Thoreau, in "Walking," writes about walking for 15, 20 or even 25 miles... often never seeing a human soul. I'm a city girl so I see people wherever I go. Sometimes I can find places, quiet and secret, depending on the time of day, but here where I live every turn I take often brings me to another face or body human tuned into working, exercising, playing.. just living. I don't mind that. I can't really put in the time to go out away from the city or even walking for more than 5 miles or so.. But still.... each walk is different, each process is different. I never go the same way or think about the same things.

I've been working a lot lately, we've been busy and the shop is really turning around. Going thru a transition to the next step.... When I'm not there, then I am here, working. And the kids are learning to make friends here in town since I can't drive them across the city or too far of a distance for companionship. So we are making due here in our town's neighborhoods with new friends and adventures in the old places

While I was out tonight, I was considering why it is I prefer to be so solitary. It really can be upsetting to people who like me and who want to spend time with me. But, I'm content. I don't crave the company of my contemporaries as others seem to. I truly wonder why that is. And to be honest, I'm a loyal person, truthful and trustworthy, but because I prefer solitude I'm sort of a crappy friend when it comes to reliability. I usually say that upfront when I meet people, and they usually agree that they are "just like that!" or that gleem comes in that they will be the one to change me. Well, I usually end up finding out that they are co-dependent as all get-out or they discover that I'm not very changeable. I don't like to join groups, I don't want the responsibility of making long-term commitments with people I don't know well.

In my precious down/off-time I want to be pursuing the things that interest me, or I want to be with my husband and family.

I'm trying to look at these various things in the most honest way I know how. I want to recognize in myself if I am making mistakes or have some work to do in areas of intimacy or relating.

We've befriended a few couples recently who live closeby who we really enjoy and who we get along splendidly with. They seem to be as into each other and their kids, as we are, us and ours. So far, it's been nice. We've gotten together at various times and enjoyed their company, and they ours; we've reciprocated invitations and the children all seem to enjoy one another. It's not hard to be with them and when we tell them we can't do something, even if we have to cancel last moment, they seem to understand, and vice versa.

I'm going to keep a close eye on these relationships to see how they evolve, and to see if I, or we, start backing off at an particular time, to see if there is a pattern.

But, as I was walking tonight, I observed myself thinking about these things. And the many other things that I think about while I walk. Things that seem to matter, but in the broader spectrum are just things. And I find that while observing myself thinking while I'm walking I realize that the walking, it isn't about the physical fitness, although that is a great benefit; but, it's like a building up of a life, the muscles and bones of the stucture of the thought. It's a walking forward into it and just wanting to see where the next steps are going to take me.

Work today. I took the kids to the pool afterward and we swam for a few hours. Met up with some friends there, and later, my husband and I walked tonight after our work was done. Thoreau, in "Walking," writes about walking for 15, 20 or even 25 miles... often never seeing a human soul. I'm a city girl so I see people wherever I go. Sometimes I can find places, quiet and secret, depending on the time of day, but here where I live every turn I take often brings me to another face or body human tuned into working, exercising, playing.. just living. I don't mind that. I can't really put in the time to go out away from the city or even walking for more than 5 miles or so.. But still.... each walk is different, each process is different. I never go the same way or think about the same things.

I've been working a lot lately, we've been busy and the shop is really turning around. Going thru a transition to the next step.... When I'm not there, then I am here, working. And the kids are learning to make friends here in town since I can't drive them across the city or too far of a distance for companionship. So we are making due here in our town's neighborhoods with new friends and adventures in the old places

While I was out tonight, I was considering why it is I prefer to be so solitary. It really can be upsetting to people who like me and who want to spend time with me. But, I'm content. I don't crave the company of my contemporaries as others seem to. I truly wonder why that is. And to be honest, I'm a loyal person, truthful and trustworthy, but because I prefer solitude I'm sort of a crappy friend when it comes to reliability. I usually say that upfront when I meet people, and they usually agree that they are "just like that!" or that gleem comes in that they will be the one to change me. Well, I usually end up finding out that they are co-dependent as all get-out or they discover that I'm not very changeable. I don't like to join groups, I don't want the responsibility of making long-term commitments with people I don't know well.

In my precious down/off-time I want to be pursuing the things that interest me, or I want to be with my husband and family.

I'm trying to look at these various things in the most honest way I know how. I want to recognize in myself if I am making mistakes or have some work to do in areas of intimacy or relating.

We've befriended a few couples recently who live closeby who we really enjoy and who we get along splendidly with. They seem to be as into each other and their kids, as we are, us and ours. So far, it's been nice. We've gotten together at various times and enjoyed their company, and they ours; we've reciprocated invitations and the children all seem to enjoy one another. It's not hard to be with them and when we tell them we can't do something, even if we have to cancel last moment, they seem to understand, and vice versa.

I'm going to keep a close eye on these relationships to see how they evolve, and to see if I, or we, start backing off at an particular time, to see if there is a pattern.

But, as I was walking tonight, I observed myself thinking about these things. And the many other things that I think about while I walk. Things that seem to matter, but in the broader spectrum are just things. And I find that while observing myself thinking while I'm walking I realize that the walking, it isn't about the physical fitness, although that is a great benefit; but, it's like a building up of a life, the muscles and bones of the stucture of the thought. It's a walking forward into it and just wanting to see where the next steps are going to take me.

I love my new password ~ it's one I've never used before and it makes me laugh everytime I type it when I remember (after a few seconds of forgetting) it here. So much so that I would love to tell it to someone, but I realize that would be stupid.

On my ride today I went north, up toward where my dad built the beautiful house for my mom about 8 miles or so from where I live now. And in the years before when I've ridden up there (it's great riding, just far enough out of town to be almost-country riding), I would often detour over to the house to look at it, but this time I only mentioned it like I always do when we pass the road, but I wasn't in the mood to see it.

I'd said something to a friend the other morning. I was talking about something that had happened "the year my mother died," and I stopped my thought... and said, how strange it was to say that out loud. And not that she's dead, no, not that, but to remember that I once had a mother. Isn't that something? My worst fear as a child was losing my mother and now that she's gone, I almost forget that I even had one. And that's not the only thing, I find that I'm forgetting a lot of things. Not in a way that might be caused by a physical problem, but I wonder, and this is just a theory, but could living in the moment be a part of that? I wonder if being present to the idea of a "now" reality somehow eliminates the need to reminisce (why can't I spell that word..) or harken back to earlier times? Not that I think they no longer influence me. Just the opposite, I think my past is the thing that pushes me into my present life; but the specific things that happened, I just don't recall as easily as I once did. I don't seem to need to.

Not that I don't miss my mother sometimes. I do. I said that out loud just the other day. The day I was putting the decorations up for my party. I planted a flag in the ground, one of hers, and I said, I miss you mom. It seemed a shame that she wasn't here.

Or remember specific memories. I do remember sometimes. Actually when I recollect certain things I'd forgotten, I actually experience them more acutely. I think it must be that since I don't spend a lot of time doing that, the memory isn't jeopardized to become sort of "old news."

Don't hate me for turning into a boring cliche, but life goes by very fast doesn't it.

The weekend was fun, I'd like to remember:

• Evening swimming with the kids
• Playing Eurogames with friends. They gave us a copy of Toppo to take home.
• Rofini's Pizza
• Sunday night concerts at the Amphitheater
• Looking at an old photo from the early 1900's and seeing a house in it that I later lived in with Nicholas when he was a baby.
• Riding to Kroger to get berries and eating a turkey sandwich from the deli while sitting on the wall by the bike rack. I threw the onions they put on it into a shrub. No one who passed me said a word, but I smiled and waved at everyone anyhow.
• New trail walking shoes. The toebox is roomy, and added bonus: they don't stink like the Tevas. Yet.

• Starting a new, pretty blog and finding that Blogger is still pretty fucked up. I like it here though, very much.
  

I love my new password ~ it's one I've never used before and it makes me laugh everytime I type it when I remember (after a few seconds of forgetting) it here. So much so that I would love to tell it to someone, but I realize that would be stupid.

On my ride today I went north, up toward where my dad built the beautiful house for my mom about 8 miles or so from where I live now. And in the years before when I've ridden up there (it's great riding, just far enough out of town to be almost-country riding), I would often detour over to the house to look at it, but this time I only mentioned it like I always do when we pass the road, but I wasn't in the mood to see it.

I'd said something to a friend the other morning. I was talking about something that had happened "the year my mother died," and I stopped my thought... and said, how strange it was to say that out loud. And not that she's dead, no, not that, but to remember that I once had a mother. Isn't that something? My worst fear as a child was losing my mother and now that she's gone, I almost forget that I even had one. And that's not the only thing, I find that I'm forgetting a lot of things. Not in a way that might be caused by a physical problem, but I wonder, and this is just a theory, but could living in the moment be a part of that? I wonder if being present to the idea of a "now" reality somehow eliminates the need to reminisce (why can't I spell that word..) or harken back to earlier times? Not that I think they no longer influence me. Just the opposite, I think my past is the thing that pushes me into my present life; but the specific things that happened, I just don't recall as easily as I once did. I don't seem to need to.

Not that I don't miss my mother sometimes. I do. I said that out loud just the other day. The day I was putting the decorations up for my party. I planted a flag in the ground, one of hers, and I said, I miss you mom. It seemed a shame that she wasn't here.

Or remember specific memories. I do remember sometimes. Actually when I recollect certain things I'd forgotten, I actually experience them more acutely. I think it must be that since I don't spend a lot of time doing that, the memory isn't jeopardized to become sort of "old news."

Don't hate me for turning into a boring cliche, but life goes by very fast doesn't it.

The weekend was fun, I'd like to remember:

• Evening swimming with the kids
• Playing Eurogames with friends. They gave us a copy of Toppo to take home.
• Rofini's Pizza
• Sunday night concerts at the Amphitheater
• Looking at an old photo from the early 1900's and seeing a house in it that I later lived in with Nicholas when he was a baby.
• Riding to Kroger to get berries and eating a turkey sandwich from the deli while sitting on the wall by the bike rack. I threw the onions they put on it into a shrub. No one who passed me said a word, but I smiled and waved at everyone anyhow.
• New trail walking shoes. The toebox is roomy, and added bonus: they don't stink like the Tevas. Yet.

• Starting a new, pretty blog and finding that Blogger is still pretty fucked up. I like it here though, very much.
  

On my walk this morning I crossed State Street which I normally don't do. It's funny, I just stay on this side most of the time. I guess it has to do with it being such a busy through-way with back and forth, on-going traffic most hours of the day. But I do sometimes consider crossing because I used to live over there when I was younger. I grew up there and it's perfectly lovely. Jaywalking is legal here, too, so if I wanted to cross at any given time, I could do that with nary a worry of legal trouble. But the ease of staying over on this side, well, it's just easier. But this morning, I threw caution to the wind, and when I arrived at the stoplight at New County Line and State, I looked both ways and saw I had a chance and I ran. Across the street.

There is a path connection over there. There are walking paths everywhere here, but this one in particular is just a short jaunt between two parallel streets both named County Line, New and Old. And so, just where is the actual county line now that we have a New County Line Rd? They moved it. They did. That's why the old one is called Old now. One day the county line was one place, the next day they moved it. (I should tell about the High Schools one of these days.... Oh, it's short, I'll tell it now: The one called Central HS is not near or close to being central, it's 3 miles north of the center, and it's north of the one called North HS. The one called South has always been here, it's in the center of town). (It's a small town, they make things up as they go along).

But, I mainly went that way because I wanted to cut through to see if I could see any bunnies. For that reason only. For some reason and only they know why, there are bunnies everywere along these little hidden paths. There are bunnies everywhere, really; bunnies and squirrels and little chipmunks. But I'm partial to bunnies. On certain days. Most of the time I don't give them a thought, but when I see one, I really enjoy it. I don't normally seek them out though, but today, I felt like I should.

So I walked a bit and when I got to where I take a right to follow the path between county lines, new and old, I was not even a few yards in when a bunny peeked out of the bushes, came within a foot of where I stopped to look at her. And she at me. She sat there for about 20 seconds, and then, promptly turned around and hopped back into her hiding place. I said to her really quietly, "Well, thanks for coming out, I came this way just to see you." I think she already knew that. She must have been on detail this morning.

On my walk this morning I crossed State Street which I normally don't do. It's funny, I just stay on this side most of the time. I guess it has to do with it being such a busy through-way with back and forth, on-going traffic most hours of the day. But I do sometimes consider crossing because I used to live over there when I was younger. I grew up there and it's perfectly lovely. Jaywalking is legal here, too, so if I wanted to cross at any given time, I could do that with nary a worry of legal trouble. But the ease of staying over on this side, well, it's just easier. But this morning, I threw caution to the wind, and when I arrived at the stoplight at New County Line and State, I looked both ways and saw I had a chance and I ran. Across the street.

There is a path connection over there. There are walking paths everywhere here, but this one in particular is just a short jaunt between two parallel streets both named County Line, New and Old. And so, just where is the actual county line now that we have a New County Line Rd? They moved it. They did. That's why the old one is called Old now. One day the county line was one place, the next day they moved it. (I should tell about the High Schools one of these days.... Oh, it's short, I'll tell it now: The one called Central HS is not near or close to being central, it's 3 miles north of the center, and it's north of the one called North HS. The one called South has always been here, it's in the center of town). (It's a small town, they make things up as they go along).

But, I mainly went that way because I wanted to cut through to see if I could see any bunnies. For that reason only. For some reason and only they know why, there are bunnies everywere along these little hidden paths. There are bunnies everywhere, really; bunnies and squirrels and little chipmunks. But I'm partial to bunnies. On certain days. Most of the time I don't give them a thought, but when I see one, I really enjoy it. I don't normally seek them out though, but today, I felt like I should.

So I walked a bit and when I got to where I take a right to follow the path between county lines, new and old, I was not even a few yards in when a bunny peeked out of the bushes, came within a foot of where I stopped to look at her. And she at me. She sat there for about 20 seconds, and then, promptly turned around and hopped back into her hiding place. I said to her really quietly, "Well, thanks for coming out, I came this way just to see you." I think she already knew that. She must have been on detail this morning.

Photo credits

I wanted to make a comment about the photos that appear on the blog today. The one above, behind the blog's title was made last year by my daughter, Lea. This was taken down at the creek by our house when she went on a walk with our friend, Annie. I edited it to create it smaller, but she captured the motion of the running water, the light reflection and shadows of the waves, the leaves and stones; the eye is hers.

The other one, which I chose as my profile photo with permission, was taken by Loki in New Mexico. I think this was two years ago (not last year?) at DH Lawrence's house in Taos.

"I spent several weeks up at the Lawrence ranch that summer. There was a long weathered carpenter's bench under the tall tree in front of the little old house that Lawrence had lived in there. I often lay on that bench looking up into the tree - past the trunk and up into the branches. It was particularly fine at night with the stars above the tree." -Georgia O'Keeffe

Photo credits

I wanted to make a comment about the photos that appear on the blog today. The one above, behind the blog's title was made last year by my daughter, Lea. This was taken down at the creek by our house when she went on a walk with our friend, Annie. I edited it to create it smaller, but she captured the motion of the running water, the light reflection and shadows of the waves, the leaves and stones; the eye is hers.

The other one, which I chose as my profile photo with permission, was taken by Loki in New Mexico. I think this was two years ago (not last year?) at DH Lawrence's house in Taos.

"I spent several weeks up at the Lawrence ranch that summer. There was a long weathered carpenter's bench under the tall tree in front of the little old house that Lawrence had lived in there. I often lay on that bench looking up into the tree - past the trunk and up into the branches. It was particularly fine at night with the stars above the tree." -Georgia O'Keeffe

New

Can one be a new blogger when one has been blogging for several years? I feel like a new blogger. I feel like having a new blog. I feel like starting again.

I don't have anything specific that I want to write about. I do have some stories that I like to tell, mostly day to day stuff, or the occasional memory. I'd like to talk about music I'm listening to, or a song that I've heard that meant or means something to me, a poem or books that impress me, or films. I enjoy writing about my children and my husband, my work and family life, or the other people who are close to me. I like to write about good food and drink. And animals, gardening and my hobbies...

I like to think about and then write down what I find while walking into my life. I like to find my inner life reflected out in the world ... and I like to find as many comparisons as I can to describe it. I feel like it creates for me myself more human and more connected to a most natural living here, while I am here.

My day to day life is what I have, what I know about and is something I am committed to experiencing. So that's what I'll write about.

New

Can one be a new blogger when one has been blogging for several years? I feel like a new blogger. I feel like having a new blog. I feel like starting again.

I don't have anything specific that I want to write about. I do have some stories that I like to tell, mostly day to day stuff, or the occasional memory. I'd like to talk about music I'm listening to, or a song that I've heard that meant or means something to me, a poem or books that impress me, or films. I enjoy writing about my children and my husband, my work and family life, or the other people who are close to me. I like to write about good food and drink. And animals, gardening and my hobbies...

I like to think about and then write down what I find while walking into my life. I like to find my inner life reflected out in the world ... and I like to find as many comparisons as I can to describe it. I feel like it creates for me myself more human and more connected to a most natural living here, while I am here.

My day to day life is what I have, what I know about and is something I am committed to experiencing. So that's what I'll write about.

Just checking

Just checking