Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

One way I cope with stress/distress/anger/frustration/sadness is to write. Feeling crushed by every single one of these emotions the last few days, I found myself going full tilt into a short piece that is part of the longer collection, a piece I've not been fully satisfied with from the get-go. While I'm happy with one very basic idea offered in the story, I'm not at all happy with most of the other aspects of it. So I made some changes. The first major change was to make the main character a woman rather than a man. While several of the stories within the collection are told from a man's point of view, I just wasn't feeling confident that this particular story's male pov was working. Once I had finished going through the entire story to change every he to she, every his to her, and every male character's name to the new female character's name, the fingers started flying on the keyboard. I kept a few minor details along the way, but for the most part

One thing I've learned about myself in the last nearly 48 hours, after the whole FB message opening the door to memories I'd buried a very long time ago, is I truly haven't dealt with what happened. My way of dealing with it was to bury it, pretend it didn't happen. I never told anyone about the situation. Not one single person. If I didn't acknowledge it and no one else knew what had gone down, then it didn't really happen, right? Wrong. It happened. And it still has the power to make me feel like crap. Yesterday, all day, piece after piece of the then revealed itself. When I was walking down the hall to spend time in the Writing Center, one particular moment surfaced. Along with the moment came the feeling I'd experienced then: fear. Before I reached the Writing Center I was doing all I could to keep myself together. And so went most of the day, me trying to keep myself together. Since seeing the FB message, I've thought about what I should have

There are moments when something will trigger my inner nasty. Today, that moment happened just after I finished eating my tuna salad sandwich and was thinking, "Hmmmmm, it's been awhile since I've had tuna. That was kind of tasty." I still had about 15 minutes before having to return to work, so I opened my laptop to see what was going on in FB world. I know, I know. Mistake number 1. I should have just enjoyed sitting with Ado, getting cream colored dog hair all over my black dress. But no. I went ahead. I noticed I had a message waiting for me, so I clicked on the message icon. Just above the name of the person who'd sent me the message I noticed Other (2). While I check in to see what friends and family are up to, I don't normally pay much attention to the other aspects of FB, so out of curiosity, I clicked on Other (2) to see why two messages had not gone to my Inbox. Yes, you got it. Mistake number 2. I should have just let it be and ignored it like is

This morning the urge to ride my bike to work consumed me. Even though the temperature was 19 degrees with a real feel of single digits and even though the wind would be hitting me directly in the face as I made my way to work, the craving to ride far outweighed the comfort I would be provided through driving. It was almost like I had no control over the decision making, like someone or something had determined the choice for me before I even woke up. I was merely a puppet whose strings were being pulled by some unknown puppeteer. So I rode. The cold numbed my thighs. The wind bit at my cheeks. My right ear hurt even though I had my hat pulled down over it. I didn't care. Sometimes I wonder if I don't care enough about the things I should. Lately, my mind keeps finding its way back to a thought that occurred to me some time ago. A question, really. About love. The question surprised me as it seemed to just pop up out of nowhere. Now it won't leave me alone. It wri

I played hookey from work today. Well, technically, I didn't. I let all the proper people know I wasn't going to be in. I followed all the procedures for being sure my students knew not to show up since I wasn't going to be there. And I didn't feel one ounce of guilt for taking the day off. Years ago, if I had to cancel class because I was sick or one of the kids was sick, I felt guilty. I'd grown up with the work ethic of you go to work. Period. No excuses. I watched my dad go to work even when he would get one of his terrible headaches that made him sick to his stomach and barely able to keep his eyes open. The only relief he got was by sitting on the floor next to his bed and laying his head against the quilt. I saw my dad get into the car during a blizzard, determined to drive to work 30 miles away, only to get stuck a half mile down the road from the house and have to hike back, upset he wasn't going to be able to make it in that day. I don't have one

This weekend was supposed to be grade papers weekend. I was going to get started early yesterday as I have quite a few papers that need attention. So what have I been doing? Avoiding anything related to work by brewing up another batch of kombucha (the first batch was okay--a little too vinegary for me--so I'm hoping this batch works out better). making yogurt (love knowing the only ingredients are whole milk from grass-fed cows and cultures). simmering beef bone broth on the stove (and burning the palm of my hand by grabbing hold of the cast iron skillet used to brown the bones in the oven before transferring them to the stock pot. My little, "I'm so stupid! I'm so stupid!" dance around the kitchen as I'm holding my hand brought Hubby running and turning on the cold water at the sink for me). making homemade granola (which smells so good as it is heating in the oven). sweeping and mopping and dusting and laundry and dishes (yes, even cleaning ho

When the kids were younger, toddlers and preteen, I would make sure to get each of them a Valentine's Day gift of some sort, usually chocolate and some other small gift, and usually very last minute, like an hour before school let out if Valentine's happened to fall during the week. Then one year, as I was standing in front of the heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, trying to decide what to get the kids, I said (and I'm pretty sure I said it out loud as I stood there), "Enough, I'm not buying into the idea any longer that I have to spend money on something to show those I love that I love them." Affection and love shouldn't be reserved for just one day of the year. Affection and love are an everyday thing, which is what I've tried to teach the kids their entire lives. Is this one day filled with red hearts, red roses, red ribbons, red everywhere you turn really something we need? The answer for me is an emphatic, "No!" It's not uncommon t

Snow recedes under a warm February sun casting long, afternoon shadows.

Training Day 1: Spin bike ride. My goals were to hit 20 miles and maintain a cadence of 95. Achieved. (Do not try to enter that bright light . . .. It's just the flash on my phone.)

It's on the calendar. A new challenge. Calvin's Challenge . 200 miles in 12 hours. And just three months to develop a fitness level that might get me to my goal. Might. The knot in the belly is already growing.