Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

Today would have been my mom's 84th birthday. Seven years ago today, we gathered to remember her a week after she passed away. That day, Dad led me into his bedroom where he'd laid out her jewelry and told me to take what I'd like to have. My two older sisters had already had their turn. Since I don't wear much jewelry, I only took a few pieces that I knew I would enjoy, but mostly, I took the pieces for sentimental reasons. Dad also told me I could have the jewelry box, a Japanese three-drawer piece made of bakelite. I have no idea how Mom came to have the jewelry box, but it had some brooches inside that I knew had been Grandma's, so I took it along with what it contained. Every now and then, I open the drawers just to take out a brooch and wonder on what occasion Grandma wore it. Or Mom. My favorite of all the pins is a silver piece with glittery clear rhinestones. It reminds me of a snowflake. When I wear it on a snowy day, I feel closer to Winter and all th

All the Christmas paraphernalia is tucked away for another year. I figured since it's all been up since Thanksgiving, it could all be taken down today. So it's down. Boxed up. Stored away. Ado tearing into one of his gifts! All morning I smiled as I worked. Yesterday with the kids was so much fun. The most ridiculous gift award goes to Funny Delightful Son. He very proudly handed me a small, heavy box as the first gift to open. I tore away the paper and looked inside. A shiny silver shut-off valve slipped into the palm of my hand. I raised my eyebrows, saying, "Thanks?" He just laughed. A few more gifts were opened around our circle. Lovely Beautiful Daughter squealing over the canvas tennis shoes I got her, and Angel Baby admiring the playmat for his new card game. Then FDS handed me another bigger box. I pulled the paper off and read the word Bidet . At that point the shut-off valve made sense. Ado with what was inside the box! I'm not sure who laugh

Most days, Ado goes to doggy daycare -- my husband's place -- for the afternoon. While I don't enjoy the moments my husband arrives to pick him up and drop him off, I believe Ado enjoys the time spent in the yard where he can run. And it's obvious he adores my husband, so I'm not going to get in the way. But I do miss him when he's gone. I'm so used to having him with me when I go for a walk that to walk alone feels very foreign. A large part of why I walk and what gives me pleasure when I walk is missing. Today I tried to find things to take pleasure in while walking alone. First was the tree at the bottom of Jersey Hill that someone had decorated with a few Christmas ornaments made from pine cones and red berries. A wreath had been set against the trunk, beside a plaque with the name of the person for whom the tree had been planted. Second was the sound of the water flowing over the rocks in the creek beside the path. Third was a rabbit huddled under a piece

Social security updated: check. Driver's license changed: check. Employee data information updated: check.  The only big item left to deal with is my passport. I figured notifying my employer, social security, and the DMV were most important. And they're done. Then it's all the little things, like the utility providers. I'm less concerned about them and will take my time getting those switched over to my new old name.  My new old name. Every time I tell myself I am now JKP, I feel like I'm slipping into that favorite comfy sweater with the sleeves fraying at the wrists. Signing my name makes me feel like the me before I married. It feels so right. I am JKP. I know I can never be anything else. When I set off this morning to take care of all the updating/changing, I met the kindest bus driver. His name is Rod. We chatted about the holidays for a bit, and I wished him a safe day. He sort of stopped when I said that and nodded, saying he certainly

It is officially official -- I have returned to my maiden name. After the judge signed the order, after the young woman handed me three copies with the court's seal, I had to restrain myself from dancing out of the justice center. Like when I signed the lease for the first unit the kids and I lived in, I felt a sense of freedom. My whole last name thing was the very first issue that cropped up in my marriage. Like the second day of my marriage. I intended to keep my maiden name. My husband opposed. Vehemently opposed. What will my mother think? he said. For weeks we went round and round about me changing my last name. To stop the bickering, I changed my last name. That was my first mistake. Giving in on that issue was like the crack in the lake's ice weakening the entire surface. Over the years other issues pushed against that crack until we fell through. My main goal for 2018 was to change my last name back to my maiden name. I went to a lawyer to talk about this and

I thought I'd made myself clear to my husband about us, about not wanting to reconcile. Apparently, my words about this subject the last five or six times I have told him as much meant nothing to him -- surprise, surprise. He comes inside and stays, wanting to carry on conversations about issues I do not want to discuss, such as the current leader of this country (who, according to my husband, is brilliant). I don't engage, yet he will linger, bringing up anything and everything to not have to leave. Yesterday, as he was leaning against my kitchen counter, going on about where rice is grown in the US, I texted some friends. I think my ignoring him and focusing on my phone told him it was time to leave. Just as he was leaving the kitchen and heading for the door, a friend called, hoping me getting a phone call would be enough to send my husband on his way. I think the combination of me texting and then the phone call was enough to get through to him that I wasn't interested

After dropping Ado off at the vet this morning for a spa day, cycle me whispered, "Cycle to work." So I laid out my cycling gloves and my knit hat. I switched all of my must-have items from my purse to my pannier. All set to leave I started for the door, and worry me whispered, "But you have to leave early to pick up Angel Baby. Cycling will make you have to rush." For a minute or longer I stood at the door, my hand on the knob, trying to make a decision. Cycle? Drive? Cycle? Walk to Uptown and catch the bus? Drive? Seriously, my indecision was absolutely ridiculous. I drove. Only because it would save me some time. As soon as I pulled into the parking lot and got out to walk inside, cycle me said loud and clear, "See how beautiful it is out? You missed a great ride this morning."  I couldn't disagree. The sun shone, and the air was noticeably warmer. The biting cold from the last few days was gone. I should have cycled to work. The beaut

My go-to for relieving the annoyance that comes with reading the final drafts of some student work is wrapping my favorite knit scarf around my neck, putting on my quilted deep green coat, then donning my boots to head out for a walk. So far today, I've needed two walks. I simply don't understand. During the last sixteen weeks, I've repeated some very basic information. Still, I get essays that don't demonstrate the student heard what I was saying (or even read the information as much of what I said was also offered in writing). After I give a failing grade for not following directions, I receive an email asking why the paper didn't pass. I then have to take time explaining, usually to a student who didn't attend class on a regular basis, which resulted in the student not hearing what I was saying and the student not going into the folders where the information was provided in writing. These students wear me out. Over the last fifteen years, much has chang

As I waited for the bus home yesterday, I listened to two students discussing the negatives of a couple of their instructors, one a French teacher and the other an English teacher. I found it amusing the students were upset with two language teachers, and I wondered if they had anything negative to say about their math teachers or science teachers. The gist of the conversation was both the French teacher and the English teacher have no idea how to teach. When I hear students tearing away at an instructor, my first thought is  and what, exactly, is your expertise in the area ? You, at 18 years old with say, what, maybe 100 hours of writing experience to your name ? And that 100 hours is probably a generous amount given how most students, probably even the two students loudly proclaiming how awful their French and English teachers are, claim they write papers in the hour before they are due. If what the students claim is actually true, this means if a student has written five papers

This past week being Thanksgiving week, I decided to use a couple of my personal days and take the entire week to just hang around the apartment with Ado. The time away from campus has been absolutely wonderful. I wanted something colorful to cover up the old phone jack on the wall in the kitchen. Now, this makes me smile every  time I walk into the kitchen. I've always wanted to learn to play an instrument. I figured since Funny Delightful Son didn't want to take this to school with him, my opportunity to do so opened up. I now know how to play one song. So far, my week has been me learning three chords on the ukelele, beginning a painting of birds on a wire, painting over the birds because I decided I didn't like them and painting new birds that I now like, going to the dentist for some teeth work I've been putting off (and happy to find out my blood pressure is good -- 112/80 (though the 80 is borderline) -- which I credit to regular meditation), pu

Lesson learned this evening: the bus that takes me from Uptown to home makes its last run at 8:25 pm. If you're not on that bus, you're walking home. Guess what. I had to walk home at 9:20 pm. It's only a mile and a half. And most of the sidewalk, other than the odd spot here and there, is lit well enough to feel comfortable walking at night. And I did feel comfortable. Right up until I was almost to my street and I heard a voice call from about a block behind. I wasn't quite sure what I had heard at first, so I looked over my shoulder and saw a car had turned onto a side street then stopped. Something else I couldn't understand was said. I kept walking since I was just across from Farmer Guy's place, who I talk to every now and then. The light was on in the front window, so I figured if I needed to I could knock on his door, which I'm sure would create quite the surprise for him. But it'd give me a place to duck into if I felt I needed to. Then the

Did you know snowflakes can hurt? I found this out yesterday on my way home from the transit station. I'd ridden my bike up in the morning to catch the bus, and during the afternoon a light snow fell when I returned to the transit station to get my bike and ride home. Almost as soon as I started out, a snowflake hit me in the eye. Not a pleasant feeling! All the way home I was blinking and keeping my head down to avoid having snowflakes maul my eyeballs. Being out, riding through the snow, was invigorating. I've actually been considering trying to ride twenty miles or more on a weekly basis all winter long no matter what kind of weather we're having. First, I have to find my booties, though. I really don't like having cold toes. You know what else hurts? Dreams. I had a dream last night during which something happened that created an intense emotional pain. One part of the dream I remember the most is me standing at a sink, washing coffee mugs and crying because of

Nearly 27 miles today. With intensely numb toes by the end. So numb I simply couldn't feel the floor after taking off my cycling shoes. My fingers? Just fine. My face? No problem. Even without my balaclava. I've searched the apartment for my neoprene booties, but so far no luck. So the toes are just going to have to go numb.  Towards the end of my ride. I didn't realize until after seeing this photo on the computer that I'm actually in it, too. My go-to for thawing out my toes was hot chocolate spiked with a little bit of Bailey's Irish Cream. I'll ride 27 miles in 35 degrees with a real feel of 29 any day if it means hot chocolate with Bailey's is waiting for me at the end. I thought about having a second but then I thought, "J, save that last bit of Bailey's for another day. You'll be glad you did." So I tucked the Bailey's back in the fridge, behind the milk and orange juice (not that anyone else will drink it, but just to be

Yesterday I drove Angel Baby's car to work. This morning I rode my bike to Uptown, went to Starbucks for my usual Thursday treat, then hopped on the bus to work. I have most definitely come to prefer the bus or my bike, and even though it would be much easier -- I'm not even sure easier is the right word; convenient?  --  to take Angel Baby to work then drive on over to campus, I'd much rather wait five minutes at the bus stop, feeling the cool November breeze touch my cheeks take a seat near the back of the bus look out the window, watch the last of red maple leaves skitter along the sidewalk relax, ten minutes of meditation or reading a chapter of the book I'm into, music whispering from earbuds. The idea of driving being easier, more convenient, and time-saving than riding my bike or taking the bus really isn't true in my case. Driving the Jeep is fun. No doubt. But I simply don't want the stress of driving. I want to be chauffeured around.

Despite Angel Baby saying he was good walking to work, which, granted, is just more than a mile from the apartment, I went ahead and bought him a car to drive when the weather gets colder. Walking when it's 35 degrees is one thing. Walking when it's 2 degrees with a wind chill of -7 degrees is quite another. I truly don't believe he realizes just how miserable that would be. So, I bought him a 2000 Jeep Cherokee. He claims I bought it for me since it's a manual, which he doesn't know how to operate. Angel Baby's new ride! If I'm being completely honest, I do have to admit I love this vehicle. It's in really good shape, and driving a stick is just plain fun. The Cherokee is very definitely my kind of car, so if Angel Baby says he doesn't want to drive it, I won't be hurt. I'll drive it and enjoy every single second of doing so. I have a hunch, though, that Angel Baby won't have any trouble learning how to drive a stick. He learne

Like usual, Ado and I set off for our morning walk. A bit later than usual since I slept right up until 7:45. Then I snuggled for another half hour against Ado. He's the best cuddle buddy ever. So when we finally started off, the sun was shining, warming the morning so nicely. While we walked I thought I'd cycle up to the farm to return the egg cartons that I'd been collecting over the last couple of months. I wasn't about to let this beautiful fall day get away from me without a cycling trip of some kind. Once Ado was settled in after we returned to the apartment and after I aired up the tires on Sweetness, I started out. Only to realize the wind had come up during the time I fixed Ado's breakfast, geared up, packed the egg cartons in the pannier, and stepped back outside. Not just a little wind, either. No. This wind, though I didn't know it until after I checked the weather once I got home, was blowing over 23 miles per hour, gusting up to 40 mph. There was

I was sitting in my oversized chair last evening, watching a new Netflix show, when the very top of the full moon edged above the apartment building next door. I watched it rise, finally appearing entirely. I switched off the TV, spread out my meditation blanket, lit the candle, and turned off the one lamp in the living room. In the yellow light of the moon and the flickering candlelight, I settled onto the blanket. Ado came over and curled up right against my legs, and together we spent the next half hour in meditation. Well, I tried to in any case. The moon shining through the piece of stained glass art in the window. Maybe it was the effect of the full moon. Maybe it was the warmth of Ado pressing against my legs, feeling his breathing, feeling his energy. Whatever it was, I just couldn't go into full-on meditation. Instead, a memory from long ago surfaced, one that I've not visited in a very, very long time. Because I'm ashamed of the decision I made. But last e

When I look at the calendar, I'm amazed that we're in week ten with the semester. In all my time teaching, I've not had a semester just seem to zoom by like this one is. I think a big part of why I feel like the weeks are slipping by so quickly is I'm teaching two hybrid sections, so I only see the students of each section once a week. After our once-a-week meeting, the students are sent on their way to complete the work online. I love this approach to teaching, and I hope to continue teaching the hybrid courses, but they definitely do make the semester go by in a blink. And with the weeks passing, the cooler weather seems to be here to stay. Which I am perfectly okay with. Though I do need to buy some long johns to wear under my clothes if I'm going to continue biking to work. And a good pair of winter boots, ones that are stylish yet practical and warm. I've been searching for the just-right pair of boots for a couple weeks now, and I think I've narrowed

True to form, Illinois went straight from summer to winter. A week ago I was wearing shorts and a sleeveless blouse to work. Today, corduroy slacks and a lovely cashmere sweater I found at the thrift store for a mere $8. To keep from getting too cold on the bike, I wrapped a scarf around my neck, pulled on a fleece jacket, and covered my head and ears with my favorite slouchy beanie. Once I started out, I decided to just ride to the transit center in Uptown and hop on the bus. I like having that option available to me if I want. This afternoon the wind was still blowing cold out of the north, but the sun was shining and warmed my back for the ride home from the transit center. Waiting for the bus -- season's first snow Just four days ago snow fell for most of the afternoon. I was sitting in a meeting at work and looked out the windows to see the first flakes of the season. An hour later when I left for home, fat, wet flakes fell. Like today, I'd ridden to the transit cent

I avoid confrontation. If I see a situation brewing where confrontation is definitely part of the equation, I'll find a way to slink away, not have to become part of the mix. Yesterday, though, I actively confronted another person.  Funny Delightful Son came home for the weekend, and we went computer shopping for him. His laptop gave up the ghost, so he was on the hunt for a replacement. After doing some online research, he decided to head to Wally World where the kind of computer he was searching for was listed online as being on sale. When we arrived at the technology department, he found the computer. Right below it was the sale tag. FDS said he was going to play around with the computer for a bit, so I wandered off to the bike accessories aisle to see if I could find some bungee nets to use on a couple of my panniers. I found what I was looking for then returned to FDS who had that look on his face, the look of things not going as planned. Apparently while he was che

Mornings are still dark when Ado and I get up and go for our first walk of the day. I see the moon move through its phases if the sky is clear. I watch the crows fly overhead, going from their nightly nesting ground to wherever it is they go for the day. I hear the hoot owls calling to one another. Rabbits zip to the shelter of hedges from openly eating in front yards under cover of darkness. The stillness of this time snuggles around me like a favorite sweatshirt pulled on that first cool morning after a long, hot, muggy summer. Speaking of yellow . . . During my walk home from the Coffeehouse last evening, after sitting for several hours with a friend, talking work and writing, my thoughts turned to how not long from now darkness will settle in by 5 pm. My excuse to pull on pj's and hunker down for the evening. One of my most favorite things to do, and it will last right up until April when I'm ready to shed the layers and get back out into the world again. The last f

I finally swallowed my fear of the scale and weighed in this morning. I mean, if I'm going to see if this intermittent fasting actually works (which I already believe it does given the last three weeks of fasting and how my clothes are fitting), I want to see some actual numerical proof. The last time I weighed in was just over a year ago, at the end of the Pacific coast ride, after thirty-two days of cycling sixty-five miles a day, burning anywhere from 2500 to 4000 calories a day. That kind of daily exercise is a sure way to lose weight. But I'm not doing anything near that level of activity, so I've been a bit apprehensive about getting on the scale. A year ago, I was at 144 pounds. This morning the scale said 145 pounds. Whew. Not bad. The year with the kids did put some extra pounds on my frame. Lovely Beautiful Daughter is all about hearty meals, especially during the colder months. She would fix pastas, potatoes, and all kinds of other starchy, carbohydrates rich m

Friday evening, Lovely Beautiful Daughter and I traveled to Urbana to attend Made, a festival of music, poetry, and handmade arts and crafts. We chatted the entire way there, as we made our way through the booths of homemade soaps, funny magnets, pottery, and whimsical clay pots for succulents, and as we searched for the restaurant we decided to try out. On our way to the restaurant, the subject of the latest supreme court nominee came up. Lovely Beautiful Daughter, in so many words, wasn't sure the alleged events from thirty plus years ago should keep this man from being appointed. Maybe he's changed , she said. We continued talking after our appetizers had arrived. Maybe , I said. But doesn't she deserve to be heard? If he did what she says he did, she's been living with those nightmare memories for over thirty years. Lovely Beautiful Daughter nodded. Thankfully I've never experienced sexual assault , she said. At that, I could feel the tears wanting to

There are moments when I wonder why I continue teaching and think it would be good for my soul to go a different direction. Then I think I'm too old to start over. There's no way I could start anew and make the same kind of living I am currently enjoying. So I just sigh and continue the direction I've been going for the last twenty-five plus years. Then, out of nowhere, a message is sent telling me I'm doing exactly what I should be doing. This morning, as Ado and I were enjoying our early morning walk in a neighborhood I love strolling through because of the mid-century style homes, the tall, old trees, and the quiet, a car pulled up alongside. A voice called out my name, and I turned to see a former student. A student who had struggled due to responsibilities outside of school: work, divorce, kids. But he always managed to complete the work. He always offered his ideas and treated his peers with the utmost respect. He wore his desire for an education on his sleeve

The other day, my husband came over to deliver Ado back after having him for a couple of hours in the afternoon. While I'm not keen on the whole sharing the dog situation, I do think it's good for Ado to have some time to run around a yard and enjoy being outside without being on a leash. When my husband came into the apartment, he asked if I had received his text. I told him no. I've told him several times I no longer receive his texts or calls, but for some reason he didn't believe me. He then asked me how is this possible, how could I not receive his texts? My response was this is what happens when a person is blocked. His anger sent him out the door which he whipped back behind him, slamming it so hard I was stunned the large picture window didn't break. The entire place shook, and the boom brought Angel Baby out of his room, wondering what had happened. For a year and a half, I've been open about not wanting to remain in this relationship. I did agree t

The darn cold bug found me and crawled inside. Runny nose then stuffy nose then runny nose. Tired. Scratchy throat. I can't remember the last time I had a cold. When this one passes, I hope it's a long, long time before I get another one. Funny Delightful Son came home from school Friday. He prepared homemade pizza for all of us Saturday evening, and we sat around the kitchen table for several hours enjoying his creations. Lovely Beautiful Daughter had a squishy pink elephant named Ernest along, telling us about his escapades during the time she was at her second job, a Chinese restaurant. It was obvious the restaurant wasn't busy and she along with her co-worker were filling the time with silliness. At one point during dinner, I got up to check on Ado. He'd been sequestered to my bedroom since FDS's plus one was visiting and LBD's plus one was also visiting. Ado isn't a fan of either. Though he's met them several times and even seemed to come to ter