coconuts of wakefulness

2012 Goals & Resolutions

2012-01-01T20:43:00.003-05:00

Tis the season, right? Making resolutions and setting goals. Trying to make sure the next calendar year is more intentional, more joyful, better than the last. It's good to step back and spend some time assessing what worked and what didn't, and thinking seriously about what would be good to try next.

And yet --

I'm resisting. Seriously, heavily, resisting. I just spent about 30 minutes looking at a bunch of other people's blogs full of bulleted action plans and carefully outlined step-by-steps. I love that shit. I really do. I'm the best in the world at making plans -- super-detailed plans that, if followed, would lead me to a Pulitzer Prize AND a Nobel and a totally killer body.

But I really suck at actually following those plans. I get so excited and then I just can't follow through. I decide to cut myself a little slack here and there -- which is a generally healthy thing, mind you -- but before I know it, I'm back into old habits. About a year and a half ago, I actually stuck to a pretty stringent fitness plan for 3 months straight: got into awesome shape, maintained it well for about 6 months, then crashed and burned and I'm back where I started. (Physically, at least. Mentally, I know I learned a lot.)

So it's the first of the year and a great time to start fresh, make big plans and envision all of my glorious projects completed by this time next year. I definitely have aspirations -- just not goals at this moment. I feel like a better way to approach this whole idea might be to just start very very small, yet be consistent. I know from experience that a little bit of diligent effort can produce better results than a herculean effort all at once.

I may be feeling a little left out of the resolution party now, but I'm just arriving fashionably late.

Here come the bombardments

2011-12-29T20:48:00.005-05:00

Timely Rain

In the jungles of flaming ego,
May there be cool iceberg of bodhicitta.

On the racetrack of bureaucracy,
May there be the walk of the elephant.

May the sumptuous castle of arrogance
Be destroyed by vajra confidence.

In the garden of gentle sanity,
May you be bombarded by coconuts of wakefulness.

Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche
[20 October 1977]

I loved this poem the first time I heard it read aloud, because the image of being bombarded by coconuts made me laugh and also made perfect sense. From the smell of fresh coffee in the morning to some worthy piece of art or writing, there are countless opportunities to wake up. I originally started this blog to chronicle some of those "coconuts of wakefulness" that bombard me on a regular basis.

Some of this week's coconuts:

The storyteller at this week's Moth Story SLAM who pulled a twist at the end of her story that I never saw coming
The (slightly inebriated) friend who stood up in a restaurant and told her own story, loudly and with much accompanying laughter
My sweet daughter pushing her nose into my cheek and sighing, "Oh, I love you, Mommy..."
Last night's incredible purple and orange sunset
My husband practicing his music in the basement in preparation for a big performance next week

There is so much value in letting the world in, to being open to what happens around me. I tend to get caught up in my own thoughts and concerns, and often don't notice the beauty and goodness right around me. I hope to continue keeping track of some of my coconuts. What are yours?

[Currently reading: The Geography of Bliss by Eric Weiner. Grumpy foreign correspondent travels the world, looking for the happiest place on earth. Love the concept, not loving the book, but will finish it because book club meets in 2 weeks!]

Darkness

2011-10-19T19:42:00.003-04:00

It feels like the middle of the night, but it's not even 8 pm. Darkness comes earlier every day at this time of year, and I feel the turn inward.

The sun never really poked through the clouds today. I call these kinds of days "aquarium days" because it feels like I'm living at the bottom of a huge aquarium. I know that the sun is out there somewhere but it's not reaching me.

On days like this my house seems extra cozy. I bought a slow cooker and used it for the first time today, and the aromas of meat and vegetables wrapped around the living room and the kitchen like a cashmere blanket.

It's nice to cuddle up at home and be here with my family. I also know that there's a sense of isolation that can start to creep in during the winter months. I have to work a little harder to stay in touch with friends and family. It's not like I'm on a farm in the middle of nowhere -- I live in a suburban neighborhood, with houses all around -- but I can feel compelled to just... hibernate.

I guess that's what winter is for. But I can lose perspective and before I know it, I haven't seen anyone but my family in days.

We just had a touch of winter today. I'm sure that before the snows come, we'll have more of those piercingly brilliant sunny fall days, when the wind blows and the leaves swirl and everybody is happy to be alive. (At least, I hope we'll have more of those days. Maybe just one more.) But I can see what's coming. Early darkness, nesting, staying close. All good things, worth savoring. This winter, I hope to share the darkness with more of my nearest and dearest.

**photo from colinjcampbell/Flickr**

Restless

2011-08-18T21:46:00.005-04:00

Feeling restless tonight. Feeling an energy underneath the surface, yet without the ability to manifest it right now. Must keep things humming as they are for a few more days, until I have more time to myself again.

Today was the 7th day in a row that I've been solely responsible for my daughter, except for one afternoon when my mother watched her. No preschool, minimal help from working husband. I know many women do this for months on end (thinking especially of military wives/mothers) and I have incredible respect for them. I am simply not used to it. Like any stressful task, it's best to start small and build your strength slowly; I have jumped right into the deep end here.

Her endless questions and curiosity, her endless needs and wants, her constant requests for games and drinks of water and hugs and snacks and... most of all, her constant focus on me. She wants to be with me: she wants to dance, talk, play, run, tell stories. And she wants us to do everything together.

And here's the problem: I need alone time, and I feel like I need a lot of it. I don't know why, I'm just built that way. I love people, I love their stories and their energy, but they wear me out. I have to spend some time recharging. And with my darling little girl around, there's no recharging. It's constant, it's intense, and even though it's mostly joyful, it's exhausting.

I've had it with feeling like a failure as a mother because I get tired. It stands to reason that the things which she loves aren't necessarily the things I love. A silly little game of peek-a-boo which makes her giggle her head off gets stale for me within a few seconds. She's a child and I'm an adult. I don't have to feel guilty that I don't want to play peek-a-boo for hours on end. But it really is fun to play with her... for a while.

We've had a few tough moments in recent days. She dawdles and putters and looks at everything -- because everything in the world is new to her. But it's my job to remind her that 15 seconds ago she said she desperately needed to go to the bathroom, and even though she's forgotten about it because she saw a dead worm or a cute puppy, she needs to head for the bathroom because she'll have an accident if she doesn't go. I don't want to be the scold who tells her to put that down and go potty. I want her to explore and appreciate the world, and to sometimes be distracted by beauty and novelty. But I also have to teach her how not to wet her pants in the middle of a store.

I know that my role is not to be her friend, but at this point in her life, I'm the best friend she has.

She starts at her new school on Wednesday, and I couldn't be more excited. I think it's going to be a fantastic environment for her, and I'm looking forward to some more time for the rest of who I am. I have ideas and projects brewing and maybe some modest goals. And I know -- I have to admit it -- that I'm a better mother when I have time to do those other things. We've both just got to get through the next few days, and we'll be in a new phase.

August!

2011-08-01T10:53:00.003-04:00

Turning the calendar (metaphorically, of course) to a new month always feels like a fresh start. It's a good time to evaluate the past month and look at goals for the present month. Like many people, I start out with guns a-blazing, lots of plans, lots of sparkly ideas . . . and then a week later I'm completely scuttled.

Last month, I attempted to step back from the online world, and I was moderately successful. I didn't stick to all of my goals, not by a long shot, but I definitely got some more space and breathing room, and I realized how much I have my nose stuck in my phone.

My biggest vice has been Twitter -- there's always new content so there's always a "reason" to check. For the month of July, I created a Twitter list of my local friends and read that list only -- and I realized how little I missed most of the people I had been following. I'm ready to get back to following a few more people, but I'm going to create some more lists, categorized by area of interest, and see if that helps me manage my Twitter time better. I don't know why I didn't bother with lists before, but I think they're going to be super useful.

I stepped way back from Facebook -- hardly ever post anymore -- and it's been totally, utterly fine.

I set a goal for myself of checking email only 3 times a day, and that totally didn't work. However, I did unsubscribe from many, many newsletters and commercial mailing lists in an effort to reduce overall incoming mail. That process is ongoing.

If nothing else, I realized how often I reach for that stupid phone to feel connected. I spend a lot of time alone with a preschooler, and the internet is a way to reach out and feel like more than "just a mom." I have to remind myself that this moment is enough.

I've set a few modest goals for myself this month on Health Month. We're planning a trip to Paris (!!!!!) in September to celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary (!!!!!) and I want to feel great before we go. My (well-documented) sugar habit has been getting out of hand again lately, so it's time to set some parameters there. My running has fallen by the wayside since the hot and humid weather has been upon us, so I'm getting back to that AND adding some extra jump rope. If you'd like to try Health Month, I have some sponsorship chips -- you can play with 3 rules for free, but I can sponsor you for a paid game with more than 3 rules. Contact me here if you want one.

Happy August! Hope we all enjoy what's left of summer.

Digital Sabbatical 2011: The Plan

2011-06-30T16:53:00.003-04:00

It's on.

It's the last day of June, and I'm committing right here, right now, in writing and on the web, to take a big step back from online activity for the entire month of July.

I'm not ready or able or willing to completely disconnect for the whole month. A big part of what I do professionally is online, and I don't need or want to take a total vacation from everything at the moment. There are some opportunities just starting up right now, so it doesn't feel right to go dark.

However.

I know when I'm working and when I'm goofing off. I know what's useful and what's not. I know when I'm meandering down a potentially useful thread, and when I'm frittering away some valuable time on useless distractions. I know how the tug of the refresh button feels and how it can pull me away from a task that needs to be completed.

So, in an effort to be more intentional with my online time, I've set some parameters. In each case, I'm trying to use technology itself to help me manage my time.

1. I made a Twitter list of the people who I really want to keep following this month. I didn't unfollow anybody (yet) but I've committed to checking only that special list and my @ replies. As I said in my previous post, I end up making a lot of real-world plans over Twitter and I don't want to cut myself off from that right now. I'll see who I've missed at the end of the month, and probably will end up cutting my follow list way down at that time.

2. I've set three daily alarms for checking email & Twitter. When the alarm rings, I can spend a few minutes checking the Twitter list and processing email. I don't really get all that much email so it's not time-consuming in itself -- the problem is that I check too often and that's what takes the time. I rarely get an email that needs an immediate response.

3. I set a to-do on my list for a weekly 15-minute Facebook check. I tend to live and die by my to-do list, so I should see it and be reminded. If I forget to check Facebook entirely -- well, that's telling me something, isn't it?

4. I'm encouraging people who know me to contact me via email (if they don't need an immediate response) or by phone/text (if they want to reach me more quickly) rather than Facebook or Twitter. At this point, phone calls & text messages don't feel like a problem. I always have my phone in reach, mainly because my daughter goes to preschool and I'm in the habit of being available in case they call. I'll have to change this strategy if I start to feel overwhelmed.

I'm not sure how all of this will work, and I'm aware that I'm leaving some big holes that my crafty and addicted mind may try to exploit. But this feels like a good plan that will help me step back in a big way and still keep some of the positive parts of being connected. We'll see. If I can stick to this plan, it'll be a huge change from my screen-heavy life.

Just today, I can already feel a little more space around my thoughts. I can feel a little more light getting through the cracks. My breaths feel a little bit deeper. I can also feel a little bit of itchiness starting to occur, as I realize that I'm not going to be able to fill those little blank spaces with an email check. I'm going to have to be here, in my life, at those moments. Yikes.

Just today I had lunch with a wonderful group of women, every one of whom I met via Twitter. I have no lack of appreciation for the connections that social media can foster, and I'm profoundly grateful for the people who have come into my life because of my online activities. I just know that I have to tame this beast, make it work for me instead of the other way around, in order to avoid wasting my one life on this earth.

(Does that sound overly dramatic? It really isn't. As far as I know, we just get one chance here. That may not be true, but I'm going to live as if it were.)

So, the great experiment begins. Thanks to Gwen Bell for encouragement and support. See you in August.

(Photo above: my daughter living in the moment at the Georgia Aquarium last week.)

Stepping back

2011-06-29T07:09:00.004-04:00

It's been a long time since I've posted in this space. So it's ironic that the thought which has gotten me to open up this window again is of stepping back from the cloud for a bit. I'm immeasurably grateful for everything the internet has brought into my life, but I'm starting to see a disconnect with "real life" and I need to reconfigure.

The idea of a family intervention has almost become a caricature, or a trashy entertainment, but sometimes we really do need the people who love us to point out when we're hurting ourselves. In the past few months, I have heard my parents, my husband, and my nearly-three-year-old daughter all make comments to the effect of "What are you doing on your phone all the time?" or "Can you put your phone away please?" My beloved iPhone is a portal to the entire world, a ready source of news, information, entertainment, gossip, and social connection. But I've noticed that every time I have a free moment -- and even sometimes when I don't really have a free moment -- I'm pulling that phone out and clicking through something.

What am I missing?

Instead of being in the world around me at that moment, or being with my thoughts and experience at that moment, I'm checking in with someone else, I'm looking to see what else is happening, somewhere else. I'm checking out.

When I went on vacation to Florida in May, I stepped back from the social web that takes up so much of my attention these days. I didn't check Facebook or Twitter all week, and that was hard, especially because I had so much downtime. But instead of checking Facebook and Twitter, I read three books (what?!), I walked on the beach, I ate good food, I got a pedicure, and I hung out with my family. I was itchy for a couple of days but after that it was really, really good.

I'm considering taking on Gwen Bell's challenge of a Digital Sabbatical for July. I recently realized that there's some creative work that I really need to do, and I need to clear my mind and focus more. I know that I waste time on the web every day, not just on the phone but on the laptop when I have other things to do, and I need to break that habit. I want to become more intentional in my use of technology, and so far I haven't been able to make that happen in a casual way.

One of the big challenges for me is that much of my social circle here in Louisville uses Twitter, and I actually do plan real-life get-togethers over Twitter, so I'm reluctant to give it up entirely for a while. This life of mine is lonely sometimes, with moving (2 years ago) to this town that I didn't know anymore, and my long hours with a small child, so those relationships have really helped me feel more connected in a very real, non-virtual way. I'm thinking that I could set up a "Louisville list" and check it daily, maybe, which would keep me in touch with my friends but keep me off the constant refresh button. (Any technological suggestions on this front would be appreciated.)

Facebook is fine but I don't feel so incredibly connected as I used to. I think I could get away with looking at it once a week and not miss anything.

I use email throughout the day, even with my mother. It's useful as a way to capture information, but I know I look at it too much. I'm thinking the solution here is to check twice daily and process as I go, and let everybody know that email is not the fastest way to reach me in July.

Still pondering the details, but the intention and the need is clear. Reconnect with real life. Be in the moment. Stop running away.

My little girl (in the photo above) knows almost nothing except this moment. It's time to get a little of that back for myself.

Reverb10 Day 30: Gift

2010-12-31T23:16:00.003-05:00

This month, gifts and gift-giving can seem inescapable. What’s the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year? (Author: Holly Root)

Last year, my husband gave me a piano for Christmas. I used to play a lot as a child and a teenager, but I never had my own piano once I started living on my own. Finding room for a piano in a 450 square foot New York apartment is pretty tough. So last year when we moved into our new house, I was gifted with a gorgeous baby grand that I love. It's a centerpiece of our house, and it stands as a symbol of our love of music and our commitment to art. It was a gesture of faith on my husband's part, that he knew something important about me and he wanted to support it.

This year, my husband gave me a brand new little Macbook Pro for my birthday. It's sleek and pretty and light, and I love it. This time, it was a gesture of faith in me as a writer. He wanted me to have my own computer that would be inspiring and fun to use, and he knows that I'm so cheap that I wouldn't want to waste the money by not doing anything with the computer. It was a lovely gift, chosen from the heart, speaking to my heart's true dream. And I plan to use it for its intended purpose this year.

Reverb10 Day 29: Defining Moment

2010-12-31T23:11:00.002-05:00

Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year. (Author: Kathryn Fitzmaurice)

This is starting to feel redundant. Maybe because I'm trying to cram 2 1/2 weeks' worth of reflection into about 4 hours.

I keep coming back to the same thing: my fitness program. I don't know where I got the strength, confidence, and perseverance to see this whole thing through 90 days, but I know that it was transformative, in more ways than one. I'm really happy about the physical results I got, but the sense of achievement was even more powerful. I'm so used to half-assing things, to starting out great then fizzling out, to feeling like a failure. To complete 90 days of strenuous workouts, healthy eating, and serious mindwork made me feel like a superhero.

What can I do in 2011 to feel like a superhero? Stay tuned to find out.

Reverb10 Day 28: Achieve

2010-12-31T22:52:00.001-05:00

What’s the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you’ll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful? Write that feeling down. Then, brainstorm 10 things you can do, or 10 new thoughts you can think, in order to experience that feeling today. (Author: Tara Sophia Mohr)

Honestly? This one is too private to share. I'm headed to 750words.com to work this one out.

Reverb10 Day 27: Ordinary Joy

2010-12-31T22:41:00.004-05:00

Our most profound joy is often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year? (Author: Brené Brown)

Being a parent provides lots of moments of ordinary joy. It also provides lots of incredibly boring moments, which can instantly be ordinary joy if you squint and tilt your head a little bit.

Since becoming a mother, I spend more time just hanging out than I ever have. I sit on the floor all the time. Sometimes I manage to lie down for several minutes at a time while my daughter runs around bringing me objects from all over the room. I color, I make imaginary pancakes, I drive a pretend school bus to a pretend zoo. To an outsider, I don't think it looks like much.

The introvert in me finds this kind of effort exhausting, though: constant interaction with another (extremely engaged) human being. It's easy to get overwhelmed, to focus on what's *not* getting done while I'm getting my nails (imaginarily) done by my toddler. But, really, what's better than spending those quiet moments with a little person who just wants to know about the world?

One of my goals for 2011 is to appreciate my life more, and it starts in those everyday moments.

Reverb10 Day 26: Soul Food

2010-12-31T22:29:00.003-05:00

What did you eat this year that you will never forget? What went into your mouth & touched your soul? (Author: Elise Marie Collins)

Oh, food. My love and my nemesis. Source of joy and anguish.

I could talk about some really wonderful restaurant meals I had this year, but I think the best food I ate was in my own home. We have a big beautiful kitchen that we've always dreamed of having, and we've been using it daily since we moved into our house last January. We perfected a homemade paella that seems to feed an unlimited amount of people. My husband became obsessed with homemade pizza, and he's finally hit on a winning recipe. (King Arthur Flour website, beer crust.) As ever, the best meals are not just about the food, but the company and the setting.

I also learned this year about the pleasure of eating for fuel, of eating fresh and local food, of eating clean juicy unprocessed food.

And I learned that a little slice of avocado makes almost anything better.

Reverb10 Day 25: Photo

2010-12-31T22:16:00.003-05:00

Sift through all the photos of you from the past year. Choose one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share the image, who shot it, where, and what it best reveals about you. (Author: Tracey Clark)

Here's one that I love. This was taken at a dinner party we had to celebrate my husband's birthday in early October. I love it because: my husband took it, it's at our wonderful house, I'm holding my sweet daughter who was tired and wanted to snuggle, and I was in awesome shape and wearing a dress that had been too small for me for a couple of years. It's totally vain, but I love looking at myself in this pic because my arms look terrific. And that, for me, represents taking care of myself and investing in myself. I spent 90 days really working hard this summer, and while I've incorporated some good habits since then, I've definitely backslid a bit. That ends tomorrow. But in addition to the fitness stuff, this photo reminds me of happy moments with my family, in my home. I'm looking to create more moments like this in 2011.

Reverb10 Day 24: Everything's OK

2010-12-31T22:11:00.002-05:00

What was the best moment that could serve as proof that everything is going to be alright? And how will you incorporate that discovery into the year ahead? (Author: Kate Inglis)

Every time my daughter looks at me and says, "I love you," I know that things are going to be alright. I know that things are alright right now, because I have true love in my life.

Reverb10 Day 23: New Name

2010-12-31T21:49:00.002-05:00

Let’s meet again, for the first time. If you could introduce yourself to strangers by another name for just one day, what would it be and why? (Author: Becca Wilcott)

This is interesting. I hated my name when I was a child, because it was unusual and I could never find it on keychains or coffee mugs at Cracker Barrel. Why couldn't I be Melissa or Jill or Emily? My great-grandmother, who was named Lorraine, who named BOTH her daughters Lorraine, was horrified when my mother told her my name. It's not so strange anymore, and I've grown to like it, despite strangers on the phone usually calling me Karen.

I can't imagine changing my name to anything else. I didn't change my last name when I got married, which is not a reflection of my feelings on patriarchy or feminism or my respect/disrespect for my husband. It was about not being able to accept a new name. I thought about hyphenating, but even that seemed weird. I got a "name-changing kit" with all the necessary paperwork, but I never filled any of it out. That was nearly 10 years ago.

So, while it may seem like a cop out, I respectfully decline to choose a new name for myself. I don't need a new name, I just need to continue settling into the name I was given.

Reverb10 Day 22: Travel

2010-12-31T21:25:00.004-05:00

How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year? (Author: Tara Hunt)

Ouch. This one hits a nerve.

I used to travel a good amount, managing to get out of the country at least once a year, which was pretty good for someone who had a full-time job and a nonprofit salary. It's always been a passion of mine, and fortunately my husband shares it so he was always good to go as well. Between 2000 and 2007 I took several trips to Europe, my first trip to Africa (Uganda), plus my first visits to India and Mexico.

Then I had a baby.

We had planned one last trip before she came along, maybe a lazy jaunt to Paris to eat and walk along the Seine. (Although it's pretty sad to think of being in Paris, unable to drink wine or eat soft cheeses.) My OB-GYN said, "Do you HAVE to go to Europe? What about someplace like... Florida?" We took a weird trip to St. Augustine and Amelia Island, where we stayed in a bizarre Nantucket-style hotel and suffered through 50 degree temperatures in April. In Florida. We huddled in the breakfast room and worked on our baby registry.

I had always imagined I would be one of those parents who just pops the kid in a carrier and heads out overseas, but it hasn't worked out that way. As it turns out, my child thrives on routine. She sleeps beautifully in her own bed but really terribly anywhere else. We've taken her to New York City twice since we moved away, and both times she's gotten an ear infection (probably caused by the plane ride) which lead to vomiting all over the place, and a generally sleepless and miserable trip. My husband and I have taken a couple of trips to New York without her, which have been fun and somewhat guilt-ridden.

So the question for 2011 is: travel with or without her? We're both really itching to give our passports a workout (and she has a passport too) but we're not sure if any of us are up to it. Kids don't adjust well to jet lag, and honestly, she's really happy to stay home with her grandparents while we go away for a few days. She misses us, but it's probably more fun for her than being dragged off across time zones to unfamiliar places. We're really looking forward to traveling with her someday, but at 2 1/2 years old, there's a limited ROI to traveling with her. Case in point: I took her this summer to a nearby (very expensive) aquarium for the morning, which was exhausting and somewhat fun, but she has just as much or more fun going to look at the fish in the pet store down the street.

In the meantime, I have the Internet for some virtual travel, and for some traveling dreams. And when the time is right, I look forward to getting back on that plane.

Reverb10 Day 21: Future Self

2010-12-31T21:20:00.002-05:00

Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?) (Author: Jenny Blake)

Future self to my current self:

I say this as lovingly as possible: quit fucking around. 40 is a milestone. You're just starting to get smart. Don't waste it now. You won't always have a little child who needs you every second of every day, so don't build your entire world around her (or anybody else who may come to join her). If you think you have something to share with the world, you've got to make it and put it out there.

Reverb10 Day 20: Beyond Avoidance

2010-12-31T21:03:00.003-05:00

What should you have done this year but didn’t because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: Will you do it?) (Author: Jake Nickell)

I am really, really good at avoidance. I'm nearly a professional at it. If you could get paid for being a professional avoider, I'd be pulling down six figures. And on my business card, you'd read: All talk, no action.

This year, I avoided the same thing I usually avoid: writing.

I also avoided: truth-telling, social interaction, working out. Oh, not all the time, not every day. But those are things I'd like to avoid avoiding.

Avoidance is really about not accepting your life as it is. Acceptance doesn't mean you never try to change or improve or do something differently; but it does mean that you work with what is. That's what I'd like to do more of in 2011.

Reverb10 Day 19: Healing

2010-12-31T20:54:00.002-05:00

What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you like to be healed in 2011? (Author: Leonie Allan)

Hmmm, feeling resistance to this one. "Healed" implies "wounded" or "broken." I know we're all wounded or broken in some way, but I don't want to admit it or talk about it publicly.

Let's just say this: radical acceptance by someone who loves you is about as healing as it gets.

Reverb10 Day 18: Try

2010-12-31T20:40:00.003-05:00

What do you want to try next year? Is there something you wanted to try in 2010? What happened when you did / didn’t go for it? (Author: Kaileen Elise)

I have all sorts of plans for doing good work in the coming year: regular meditation, regular writing, regular exercise. All of these are things that I've done off and on for a while, but I want to develop them all into habits and commitments. None of them are new to me.

The question "What do you want to try next year?" seems to speak about something new. Fortunately for me (or unfortunately), I'm always curious and want to learn and do and see and hear and be something new.

Is 2011 going to be the year I learn Portuguese? (Because Brazilian music is just the best, ever and I want to know what they're saying and maybe sing a little bit myself.)

Is 2011 going to be the year I go to the airport, armed with a buddy pass courtesy of my brother the airline pilot, and just see which plane has an empty seat? (Related: is 2011 going to be the year when I finally get out of the country again, for frak's sake?)

Is 2011 going to be the year when I stop eating my feelings and start to have a healthy relationship with food? (Possible. Quite possible.)

Lots of things to try. Lots of options. Will start something in the morning.

Reverb10 Day 17: Lesson Learned

2010-12-31T20:22:00.003-05:00

What was the best thing you learned about yourself this past year? And how will you apply that lesson going forward? (Author: Tara Weaver)

(Finally, an easy answer.)

This year, I learned about perseverance. I'm one of those people who is very good at beginnings: I get all excited about a new projects, I buy "For Dummies" books and research basic supplies and ideas, I make step-by-step plans to get me gradually to my goal in 12 weeks, etc etc. I'm all gangbusters for a couple of weeks, then somewhere life intrudes and I get "off track." Usually by this point I've decided that my project is dumb, useless, pointless, a waste of time, etc etc. And -- ooh! bright and shiny! -- there's a new project on the horizon anyway, so might as well get started right away.

In this way, with all this activity, I don't actually get much done.

This year, however, I made a commitment to fitness and I ACTUALLY FOLLOWED THROUGH. I didn't know how to jump rope but I did it, every single day, for 90 days in a row. The days when the rope swished effortlessly under my feet, the days when I tripped every other jump and wanted to throw the rope on the floor and stomp all over it until it was dead. I just jumped. I got through that touchy, difficult period when I wanted to give up, because I had a commitment and I made sure everybody I knew was following along at home. Now I jump about 15 minutes every morning, good days or bad. But more than the actual jumping rope, I learned what it means to continually do something, in good mental weather or bad, and how powerful those little daily actions can truly be.

I can apply this lesson going forward to anything I want to do in the coming year. Just chip away at it, regardless of the results, and the results will come. So powerful.

Reverb10 Day 16: Friendship

2010-12-30T10:03:00.004-05:00

How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was this change gradual, or a sudden burst? (Author: Martha Mihalick)

This is a tough one, only because I feel like I don't have many close friends. Finding friends and keeping friends has been the hardest part of our 2009 move from NYC to Louisville. I used to share an office with somebody who became a truly good friend, and I miss seeing him every day. We lived in New York long enough to make some other close friends, and now we're far away and don't see them as often. Another friend has gone by the wayside because of a disagreement; I feel bad about it but don't know how to reach out. (The disagreement wasn't mine.)

How has a friend changed me this year? I could reflect on one friend who is an inspiration, and how she makes me want to be a better person. She's not perfect, but pretty close to it. She's a physician who now works for an NGO in a developing country, she has three wonderful kids, she's a fabulous chef and hostess, she's thin and gorgeous and stylish and loves to dance. She smiles all the time, and it's genuine. She has a good life, to be sure, but she's also HAPPY. Many people with a good life aren't happy, but she is. I watch her and I see how she takes care of the people around her, but she also takes care of herself. She takes a nap just about every day. She eats good food and makes time to exercise. She just doesn't do many things that she doesn't want to do. She left a job that was sucking her dry and found work that she's passionate about, that's helping some people who are truly in need. She's one of these people who inspires envy among others because she's so wonderful and seems to have it all together, but then you love her so much that you can't hate her.

Sometimes I want to be like her so badly, I have to remember that we are different people with different life experiences. Sometimes I ask myself, "What would G____ do?" when I feel lost or overwhelmed, but then I find that the answer isn't going to work for me. And then sometimes I feel like she has everything SO much together that I'm hopeless in comparison: might as well quit now. She is absolutely comfortable in her own skin, and that's what I aspire to be, more than anything else. There are many ways to get there, but simply imitating her isn't going to do it.

She has taught me that family holidays can be wonderful (I didn't grow up with that experience), and that there's always enough food for another person at the table. She has taught me how to say "no" in the most gracious way possible. She has taught me that jet lag is not insurmountable. She has taught me that a little bit of luxury goes a long way, and is nothing to be ashamed of. She has taught me that the universe will show you the right direction if you're open enough to hear it. I'm lucky to have a friend like her in my life.

Reverb10 Day 15: Five Minutes

2010-12-30T09:52:00.003-05:00

Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010. (Author: Patti Digh)

OK, I'm going to take this seriously. Will be setting the timer and writing down everything I want to remember, then hitting publish. Unedited.

Trip to NY in December for the bat mitzvah. Maya playing in the bathtub. Maya's face on Christmas Eve as we put out milk & cookies for Santa. Maya singing to herself in her bed -- ABC's, Santa Claus is coming to town. So many memories of Maya that I want to preserve forever: her smile, her growing repertoire of goofy faces. My parents' anniversary and them coming over with champagne after their celebratory supper. Alex singing in public the other night, Alex listening to his new songs over and over to work on getting them just right. My PCP project and getting to know my body better. Running that 5K race and getting to run right through the middle of Churchill Downs with all those very fit people. What else? Dinner parties when our house was full of love. Maya's birthday party when our house was full of love. Waking up in the morning to hear Maya and Alex playing down the hall, and knowing that I get to sleep in for a little bit longer. Wine tastings at the wine shop in our neighborhood. Taking Maya to the 4th of July fireworks and seeing her face as the fireworks exploded in the sky. Thanksgiving at Cathy's and watching Maya and her cousin Daniel playing together. Closing on our new house, our first real home that's ours to keep. Flying into New York City and feeling excited to be there and relieved that I no longer live there. Having my first pieces published in Louisville Magazine. Getting to fill in on Morning Edition on WFPL, feeling like a real radio host. Meeting so many great people on Twitter. What else? Running short on things to say here, incredibly. Doing my daily writing practice on 750words.com. Reading The Great Gatsby again. Reading Wolf Hall. Sitting on my couch and looking at the ceiling, feeling grateful for such a nice house. Swimming in the pool at Norton Commons. Taking Maya to the pool at the Y for some winter swimming. Hearing Maya playing hide-and-seek with her grandfather. Sushi lunch with my brother.

--------

Interesting exercise. If I had 10 minutes I probably could have thought of more things, but this is what came up. Not surprisingly, most of it is about my daughter. A year in the life of a toddler is an eternity: there is so much change, so much growth. I look at pictures of her from a year ago and she's incredibly different. I notice that there's not so much about my personal achievements here. Is that because I didn't achieve much or because those achievements are not as important as the time I spend with my daughter? If my memory were to be erased, I would want to save those moments with her more than anything. I've been thinking about what I want to do in 2011, and there are some definite goals that I'm shaping, but I realize that the little moments are probably even more important, as long as I can stay open to them.

This was a daunting prompt, but really rewarding. Try it for yourself if you haven't already!

Reverb10 Day 14: Appreciate

2010-12-30T09:40:00.002-05:00

What’s the one thing you have come to appreciate most in the past year? How do you express gratitude for it? (Author: Victoria Klein)

I try, on a daily basis, to be appreciative of my general state of well-being, whatever it is. It's easy to focus on what's wrong or what's missing in life, but to be honest, I have a wonderful life. I have a great husband, an amazing little girl, wonderful parents, a beautiful house, enough money to buy the things we need and some things we want too, and I am in the very blessed position of being able to do paid work when I choose and spend the rest of my time taking care of my family and doing my own creative work.

Stepping back from those details and looking at the bigger picture: everybody I'm close to is healthy and in decent financial shape. I don't have anybody in my life in crisis right now.

And an even bigger picture: I live in a democratic, stable country with plenty of food and water and heat and medical services. I've spent time in places that don't meet those criteria so I know how lucky I am.

Sometimes I cannot believe this is my life. Sometimes I cannot believe how I can still wake up grumpy in the morning, despite all of those good conditions.

If I had to point to one thing I appreciate more this year, it would be my body. Not only did my body grow and deliver my wonderful child a couple of years ago, but this year I saw what my body can do when I put in some effort. I ran a 5K race, I learned to jump rope, I developed strong triceps and abs, and I learned how my body happily responds when I take care of it.

This is a good reminder to take stock regularly: there is so much to appreciate and enjoy.

Reverb10 Day 13: Action

2010-12-15T15:07:00.003-05:00

When it comes to aspirations, it’s not about ideas. It’s about making ideas happen. What’s your next step? (Author: Scott Belsky)

I am a writer who often doesn't write. I write professionally sometimes, and apparently once a year I manage to take to this blog and write all December. But I want to write more.

Just like most people, I have an idea for a novel. I think it's a good one, although sometimes I'm not sure. I've spent a little bit of time sketching it out, but I always get overwhelmed because the story is really big. Then I get scared -- watch how my crazy monkey mind works -- because the story is inspired by real life, and I wonder if I'll ever be able to write something totally invented. (Mind you, this future-worry is before I've even written a damn thing! Wow, mental acrobatics.) I don't know anything about writing a novel, but I can't seem to just sit down and dig in and WRITE SOMETHING.

So, next step? Set up a writing schedule for myself in the new year that I'll actually be able to stick with. I have a flexible schedule, so time isn't the issue. The issue is FEAR. It's time to figure out how to make myself sit down, every day, and produce something, regardless of the quality. Everybody has to get through those shitty first drafts. I'm very happy to be an editor -- of my own work, or somebody else's -- but I need the editor to pipe down for a while and let me get that first draft out. I don't know if I'll ever write something good, but as long as I just think about it and don't do anything, I'm guaranteeing that I never will.

Action, baby, action!

Reverb10 Day 12: Body Integration

2010-12-15T14:45:00.004-05:00

This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body? Did you have a moment where there wasn’t mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present? (Author: Patrick Reynolds)

I put some serious time and effort into taking care of my body this year, something that has always given me trouble. Without making a big sob story about it, I've had a difficult relationship with this body of mine. I had a lot of illness as a child and a teenager, frequently hospitalized, and I still have to be careful about certain things because I seem to be more sensitive than the average bear. I didn't run around outside a lot as a kid, so as an adult, exercise has always been problematic because I just wasn't used to that feeling of exertion.

I ran my first 5K race in the fall of 2009, after half-heartedly taking on the Couch to 5K training program. Good program, couldn't quite keep up with it, but did my best. A good friend who loves running was kind enough to run with me, and we had a pretty good time. We signed up to take part in a marathon relay (the 26 mile distance is split up among 5 runners) in April 2010, which was fun because of all the excitement and hoopla around a big race. But I didn't really enjoy the activity itself. (I enjoyed the celebratory meal at Lynn's Paradise Cafe afterwards!) I was happy that I was getting some exercise in, but I didn't see many changes in my body.

The biggest leap I made this year was under the guidance of Patrick Reynolds, the author of this prompt. The Peak Condition Project is a 90-day program of diet, exercise and blogging. No insane stuff, no crazy food, no marathon workouts or expensive equipment. I spent about $40 on jump ropes and resistance bands, and I'm still using them today. I worked out every day for 90 days straight, in my basement, usually in the early morning while the rest of my family was asleep, and I ate more vegetables than I'd ever eaten in my life. (You can find my blog about the experience here.) I lost 20 pounds, which was awesome, but better than that, I started to take pleasure in moving my body. I also learned how essential exercise is for me as a mental health tool. I am the LAST person I thought would say this, but: exercising every day makes me a happier person.

Most of us live in a world where we hardly have to think about our bodies at all. We don't need to do physical labor to find food or shelter; we barely have to walk anywhere. And especially now that so many of us spend time as knowledge workers, or information specialists, or whatever you want to call it, we're in front of a screen most of the time, using our fingers but nothing else. It's easy to forget we have a body, and it's easy to forget that the body is talking to us all the time. Taking the time to listen has made a huge difference in my life.

I still struggle with food: I love to eat, and many of the things I love to eat aren't really on that good-for-you list. (I love my veggies, but I also love my cake.) But I have kept up my exercise habit in the 3 months since the program formally ended, and I'm better for it. Next project: kung fu. (!!!!)

Reverb10 Day 11: 11 Things

2010-12-14T10:56:00.004-05:00

What are 11 things your life doesn’t need in 2011? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life? (Author: Sam Davidson)

1. Sugar. I am increasingly seeing refined sugar as my bad boyfriend, the one that promises so much and then talks smack behind my back. As a famous cowboy once said, "I don't know how to quit you," despite my efforts. I am becoming more and more convinced that I cannot moderate my sugar intake, that I'm going to have to cut it out entirely. But a world without any sweets at all (not to mention all the other things that include sugar) seems bleak indeed. I'm wrestling with this, but I'm aware enough of the problem that I know I need to find a way to manage it.

2. Mean self-talk. I let one mistake cascade into a torrent of anger at everything I've ever done wrong -- or done imperfectly. Underneath it all I fear there's a kernel of truth to my thoughts. But this kind of behavior isn't helping me, so it needs to stop. Again, like sugar, it's a habit that I'm not sure how to break.

3. Fear of playing music with my husband. This one seems silly, but it's indicative of how we relate to each other. I'm a classically trained singer & pianist; my husband grew up singing gospel music with his family. Both of us are good at what we do, but we have been incapable of working together musically in the 15 years we've been together. I come at it one way, he comes at it another, and the whole thing dissolves into tears (mine) before long. He writes and sings his own (very good) songs, and he wants me to participate; I usually feel that I have nothing to contribute and I don't want to ruin his creation. This year, I'm going to figure out how we can create together.

4. All those gloves and socks without partners. Seriously, I keep thinking the other one is going to show up. It's not.

5. Bigger clothes. I lost some weight this year, and I'm really happy about that. A little bit of the weight has come back, and I'm not happy about that. I'm still in my smaller clothes, but I need to get the bigger clothes out of my closet so I don't have them to fall back on.

6. Being distracted when I'm with my daughter. Sometimes it's tedious to hang out with a toddler for hours on end, but I have my handy dandy iPhone to entertain me at all times. I hate to admit this, but sometimes she's begging me to play with her and I'm looking at Facebook. (Ugh. Bad mommy.) I want to be more present for her, so no more playing with my phone when we're spending time together.

7. Assuming that other people are talking (or thinking) about me. We are all naturally self-centered, and I think that's a survival mechanism. Gotta make sure I'm taking care of number one, right? I think that I often assume that other people are talking about me, usually in a negative way, and I react to that, even without proof. Gotta give people the benefit of the doubt and realize that nobody's criticizing me quite as much as I am.

(Intermission. 11 items to live without is a long list. I'm tired. Are you? I'm realizing that my strategy for self-improvement is usually about adding things or activities rather than reducing them. And every thing that I'm considering eliminating is making me feel guilty.)

8. So many magazines. I have a real thing for glossy magazines: crisp, inviting, full of strategies and numbered lists for becoming a better/happier/thinner person. Such beautiful pictures, such freshness every month. I subscribe to a few already, and then I often pick up single issues when I'm at the grocery or the drugstore, and maybe spend 30 minutes leafing through it. I'm going to stop picking up magazines at the store, and stick to reading the ones I already get, or reallllly enjoy checking out magazines in waiting rooms.

9. Less consumption, more creation. The more I think about it, this is what needs to happen for me in the coming year. I consume a lot: food, books, blogs, music, movies, paper towels. I need to create more: meals, stories, experiences, life.

10. My bad attitude towards a family member. I can't say who this person is, but he/she is really hard for me to get along with. Every conversation or interaction with this person sets my teeth on edge, and I often find myself being kind of bitchy to him/her. I need to be nicer to this person, because he/she is just doing his/her best, and because I want him/her to be part of our lives. Patience, grasshopper.

11. Fear and pessimism in general. I feel like I'm starting to repeat myself here, but I guess this is telling me what I need to work on. I let my fear rule me all too often. When I can't reach somebody on the phone for a couple of days, I start to wonder if they've died. (No kidding. Crazy, right?) I have more freedom in my life than I've ever had before, even though I'm a parent, and I avoid trying new things because I'm afraid. I wrote this in my first Reverb10 post: the word for 2011 is fearless. (When you hear the secret word, scream real loud.)

(Wow, this was tough. Try it for yourself and see what you come up with!)

Reverb10 Day 10: Wisdom

2010-12-10T10:38:00.002-05:00

What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out? (Author: Susannah Conway)

Did I make any wise decisions this year? Wisdom is an interesting choice of words. It conjures up an older person than me -- someone who has been through a lot, seen a lot, and is able to make choices based on thoughtful reasoning instead of fear. I don't usually think of myself as a wise person. A smart person, yes, but wise is something else entirely.

This year, I said no to a freelance job that I would really have enjoyed, but which wouldn't have taken me any further towards my goals. The decision itself was easy -- I was flattered to be asked, but I instantly knew I shouldn't say yes. The hard part was actually getting up the nerve to say no.

Since leaving my full-time job, I've had a bit of an identity crisis about my place in my chosen field. I used to know a lot of people around the country, I used to go to conferences where people would want to know about my employer because we had such a good reputation, and I used to feel like I was connected to some of the smartest people in the business. I even thought I might be on my way to an even better job with some of those super-smart people.

Then I had a baby, moved across the country, and decided to focus on my home and family for a while. I haven't stopped working, but my family is the priority right now, so I feel like a bit of a dilettante these days. I work a little here and there, and I'm so grateful that I can do that, because I really enjoy it. I'm not hooked in to the latest and greatest stuff in my field anymore, and I don't feel very important anymore. I don't plan to be doing this forever, either, so I want to keep my skills current and stay connected to people. So when someone I adore and respect reached out with a short-term gig, I was absolutely delighted that he thought of me. The job would have been easy -- working with people I love, for a project that I support, using skills that I absolutely have. Best of all, it would have made me feel like an authority again, an important person, for just a little while.

But when I looked at my larger goals, I knew this job wouldn't help me get to where I want to be. It would be "something to do" for a few weeks, and it would bring in a little money, but it would be leading me in the wrong direction. I had basically done that job for years and, although I was good at it, I wasn't happy doing it. I knew I had to say no, but it was so incredibly hard to reject that promise of feeling important again. This was my ego stepping up and saying, "Hey, what about me? Don't I need a little love?" I took the whole weekend to figure out just the right phrasing.

In the end, I know it was the right decision, and I didn't burn any bridges by saying no. The wisdom came from understanding the real reason I wanted to say yes. A couple of years ago, I would have jumped at the chance to do this job, and the old me was the one still chomping at the bit to do it. I had to recognize that I didn't need this job, and that feeling "important" isn't the most important thing in the world. The new me had to be brave, have faith that something better was coming around the corner, and say, with grace and gratitude, no thank you.

Reverb10 Day 9: Party

2010-12-10T10:30:00.002-05:00

Prompt: Party. What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010? Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans. (Author: Shauna Reid)

Coming close on the heels of my whining about a lack of community, I realized that I've been to (and thrown) some pretty great parties this year. So I'd better step back and look again, cause maybe things are better than I thought.

Our closest friends from NYC are a family that loves to celebrate. Their house is always full of friends, whether it's a regular old Friday night or a special occasion. We took inspiration from them when we designed our new house, and made sure to create a space that works for gatherings. I'm happy to say that we've hosted several wonderful dinners here this year, and that's something I hope to continue in the coming year.

The best party I attended this year, however, was my daughter's second birthday. We wanted to make it an event that kids AND adults would enjoy, and I think we pulled it off. It was a beautiful July day, so we had the doors and windows wide open. For many of our extended family and friends, it was the first time they got to see our new house. We had lots of food, drinks, and a gorgeous cake, but it didn't feel excessive in the way that kids' birthday parties sometimes can. We started around 4pm, and by 6pm the place was packed. Our daughter loved it beyond all reason. When everybody gathered around to sing "Happy Birthday" to her, she just looked at the gathered group with wonder. She didn't completely understand it but she sure as hell loved it. People started to drift away around 7:00 but the closest family and friends stayed until 10 or 11, well after we put our daughter to bed. Sometimes I think that's the best part of a party -- those last few people who stay and help clean up or just sit on the porch and have another drink.

I feel lucky that I have friends and family who made the effort to come, lucky that I have a house that can host everybody, and lucky to have a 2-year-old to celebrate. And the best part: we get to do it again next year.

Reverb10 Day 8: Beautifully Different

2010-12-10T10:20:00.002-05:00

Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different – you’ll find they’re what make you beautiful. (Author: Karen Walrond)

Having a tough time with this one. Anytime someone says "everyone is beautiful" I have a tough time with it. Beautiful is special, beautiful is unique and somehow MORE than everything and everyone else. I know this writer from Twitter and she seems like an incredibly generous and optimistic person. I wish I could naturally be that way.

The issue I have is that this prompt is asking me to find a way in which I am beautiful. Do I need that? Do I need to feel beautiful, somehow, in order to move forward with my life? I guess it's better than feeling like a freak or a loser because I'm different. But we're ALL different. Does that mean we're ALL beautiful? I'm getting that feeling like when everybody on the tee-ball team gets a trophy because we're ALL winners.

I feel like I'm sounding like a major Scrooge here. If feeling beautiful is what gets you going in the morning, if it gives you the courage to do new things and take risks, then go ahead, feel beautiful. For me, beautiful isn't the goal. I think I'm too stuck on the idea of physical beauty, which has been a major bugaboo for me throughout my life. I prefer to use words like awake, open, compassionate, although I guess one could also use beautiful in a similar context.

Okay, nerve touched. Hmm. Something to think on.

Reverb10 Day 7: Community

2010-12-10T09:54:00.003-05:00

Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2011? (Author: Cali Harris)

Oh, this is a juicy one. I deeply long for community but I'm also a bit scared of it.

A year and a half ago, my husband and our baby daughter and I moved from New York City back to my hometown of Louisville. We'd lived in New York for nearly a decade, and we made some amazing friends there. Leaving those friends was, hands-down, the hardest part of the move. After 18 months here, we still haven't developed the kind of community we had in NYC. And we're having trouble figuring out how to make things better.

We're not church (or other worship community) kind of people, so what would otherwise be a great way to meet people and create community doesn't really apply to us. Our daughter goes to preschool part-time, and everybody keeps telling us we'll meet people through our kid, but it hasn't really happened yet. Most of the parents who send their kids there work full-time so they run out as soon as they can. My husband likes his co-workers and we hang out with some of them occasionally, so that's a good thing. We have family nearby. But we don't really have a community.

My husband was raised in a small town with a lot of churchgoers, and community wasn't always a positive thing in his experience. We all know that a community can (and usually does) include people who are selfish, nutty, devious, judgmental, or just plain mean. He experienced all of those behaviors growing up, and that has made him wary of most group activities. (Sad but true.) And now when we're looking for "our people," I think we've hung back out of fear that we'll get drawn into some drama or that we'll be judged unfairly if we don't stick to the party line, whatever it is.

I think we have to be careful, when looking at any particular community, of assuming that we have to accept everything that community stands for in order to be part of it. For example, political parties. If I don't agree with every item on a party agenda, does that mean I shouldn't be part of it? Of course not. But I sometimes feel that way about "communities of choice" -- like churches or civic groups. We're thinking about sending our daughter to a very progressive, very unusual private school, but we don't think we can sign on 150% to everything they espouse. We like the school very much, but we don't feel the need to replicate the school environment at home. We're still convincing ourselves that this is okay.

I have to say I've really enjoyed my last year on Twitter. I joined a little more than a year ago, and it's been so much fun to "get to know" some new people, even here in my own town. (I follow pretty much anyone I find in Louisville, and I've been surprised at what a great source Twitter can be for local news.) So there's a little bit of a virtual community for me now on Twitter, which has been a great consolation as I've felt a little lonely in the real world.

For 2011, I'd like to actually meet some of these people I've met online in real life, and I want to branch out, take a leap, and find a community that suits me and my family. I have to remember that we don't have to drink the Kool-Aid to do it.

Reverb10 Day 6: Make

2010-12-09T20:04:00.004-05:00

What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it? (Author: Gretchen Rubin)

The last thing I made was a salad for lunch: daikon radish, onion, carrot, cilantro with a dressing of toasted sesame oil, sesame seeds, and tamari soy sauce. It took about 10 minutes to put together, and it was deeeeelicious.

I should mention that it's been a while since I made something so simple and good for lunch. Usually I scrounge in the fridge for last night's leftovers. There was a time this summer when I made myself a wonderful healthy lunch almost every day (I'm home while my daughter is napping so I have the luxury of a kitchen and time). I've kind of gotten away from that kind of regular lunch-making, but it was nice to put together something new today.

I'd never had daikon radish before, but it came in my weekly CSA share, along with a recipe for this salad. I'm always so happy when they send a recipe, because I had no idea what to do with these things (pictured above). I'm learning way more than I ever wanted about the radish/turnip family, with a winter CSA share. To my surprise, it's peppery, juicy, and goes great with cilantro and soy sauce.

In the coming year, I'd like to continue making healthy delicious food for myself and my family.

Reverb10 Day 5: Let Go

2010-12-09T19:52:00.002-05:00

What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why? (Author: Alice Bradley)

This is a tough one, because I don't feel like I "let go" as much as I attempt to "obliterate." I've spent a lot of time this year thinking about habits: creative habits, exercise & diet habits, emotional habits. I try to replace those habits that don't benefit me with habits that are more sustainable and beneficial. Often I wind up berating myself for holding on to patterns, and I redouble my efforts to banish certain behaviors. It's a pretty aggressive approach, I know, and not that useful.

"Letting go" seems more peaceful, more generous and healthier than "getting rid of." Letting go means you know why you were holding on, and you've made a decision to release. You can let go of something you love but don't need anymore. You have to purge something that you know you don't need but you still want.

This is really useful, to think about letting go of something instead of beating it into submission. (I kid, I kid!) (Kinda.)

Reverb10 Day 4: Wonder

2010-12-09T19:32:00.003-05:00

How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year? (Author: Jeffrey Davis)

This prompt stopped my mind for a moment -- probably the intention -- because I hadn't thought about cultivating a sense of wonder before. To cultivate is to prepare a container, to tend, to care for, and to encourage growth. I don't think cultivate a sense of wonder in any particular way, but I know that I have a little wonder-generator right here in my own home: my daughter.

Any 2 1/2 year old is all about wonder. This child screams in delight every time she sees a school bus, for crying out loud. In the morning, she puts her arms around my neck, hugs me tight, then looks deeply into my eyes with a gigantic smile and says, "Mommy... I want a vitamin," nodding encouragingly. We ran from window to window tonight before bed to see if we could find the moon. (We couldn't.)

This is not to say that everything is fairies and sunshine, because it's definitely not. But it is pretty wonderful to see someone discovering things for the first time and being just f***ing amazed by it all. (Tonight, I introduced her to butterfly kisses. She couldn't stop giggling.) I can cultivate a sense of wonder by being as present with her as I can, and trying to be as open as she is to the wonders of this world.

(The author of today's prompt, Jeffrey Davis, has a ton of cool stuff on his website, by the way. I took a yoga and writing workshop with him in New York several years ago, and I really loved his approach. You can download his free creativity handbooks here.)

Reverb10 Day 3: Moment

2010-12-09T19:19:00.005-05:00

Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors). (Author: Ali Edwards)

It's tough to pick one moment for this year. I didn't have any major life milestones this year, so I can't point to those. There are two moments, or experiences, that really stick with me.

The first was an interview I did with a local farmer and food activist -- I was writing a profile of him for a local magazine -- and we stood out in his field and talked for a couple of hours. It was a warm day, and the workers near us were cutting beautiful bunches of kale and piling them on a nearby truck. The man I was interviewing is a gentle, quiet person who is passionate about his work. He answered my questions thoughtfully and without pretense or aggression. After some time, he needed to go back to the farmhouse to make lunch for his crew, and he asked me if I'd like to join him. I chopped sweet potatoes and onions while we continued talking about creating a local food infrastructure -- more interesting than it sounds. What made this experience so special was that I felt fully present with someone who was fully present with me. I really enjoyed writing the piece, too.

Another experience would be one of any number of times that I worked out in my basement during the past year. This seems so insane, I cannot believe I'm saying it. But here's the thing: I've always avoided exercise because it freaks me out. Literally, I used to get panicky and scared when I would start working really hard. But this year I did a fitness program that changed the way I feel about exercise. I worked out every single day for 90 days, and although there were many, many days when I didn't want to do it, I did it anyway because I had made a commitment. And somehow, in the process of just doing it over and over again, that panic and fear just dissolved. I'm still working out, hard, at least 5 days a week. I don't always love it, but I don't freak out anymore. I've actually concluded that physical exercise is absolutely key to my mental health, and a good day always begins with picking up the jump rope at 6:30 am. (Once again, I cannot believe I'm saying this. But change is good.)

I wish I could sum up one perfect, glorious moment to describe in luscious detail, but nothing comes to mind. And that's okay, because I think it means there have been many moments of aliveness this year.

Reverb10: Catching up

2010-12-09T19:12:00.004-05:00

Sometimes life's celebrations get in the way of our good habits. That's exactly what happened to me last weekend, and that's why I haven't posted on any of the Reverb10 prompts for several days. We took a trip to NYC to visit our friends, walk the streets of our second home, and attend the bat mitzvah of a close friend's daughter. (Ain't no party like an Israeli party...) I decided to leave my laptop at home and do my daily journaling on my iPhone, so I was responding to the prompts but not blogging publicly.

And then we got home. And I hit a massive wall when it came to my Reverb10 participation. I saw the prompts and I basically ignored everything they brought up. I think I had a lot to process after our trip -- four days without my daughter, catching up with old friends, remembering the life that I used to have in New York -- and I just haven't felt up to "reflecting and manifesting." Add to that the amount of practical, daily stuff that has to be dealt with when returning from a trip (laundry, groceries, bills), and I just haven't been able to keep up.

I've been feeling guilty about it. Not because I'm worried that someone out there is wondering where my brilliant words are, but because I made a promise to myself. I remember how helpful this process was last year, and I don't want to deny myself the benefits of taking an organized look at my life. The best way to relieve guilt, however, is to stop doing the thing that makes you feel guilty. Hence...

The following posts are brief responses to the prompts for Days 3-9 (yikes!), just so I can feel like I'm back on the Reverb10 train. I've been enjoying reading other people's responses, and I hope maybe something I write will be of benefit to others.

Reverb10 Day 2: Writing

2010-12-02T20:06:00.002-05:00

What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?

Resistance takes many forms -- the internet, TV, other books, staring off into space, getting caught up in a story about how I have nothing worthwhile to say, who cares what I write. But it's all resistance.

It's the same kind of resistance that comes up when I'm on the meditation cushion, the same kind of resistance that surfaces when I'm lacing up my shoes to go exercise. It's the "why bother" voice that encourages me to just go back to bed, go turn on the TV, go read some celebrity gossip websites. "Just relaaaaaaaax," it whispers. "You work so hard already."

This voice has gotten even louder since I became a mother, and my "workday" is at least 12 hours long. (Note to would-be parents out there: I work harder now as a mostly-stay-at-home mom than I EVER did in a "real" full-time job.) I have relatively little time for myself, so I'm all the more inclined to just kick back and consume, rather than create.

Some people just have ideas pouring out of them. Not me. I struggle for my ideas. I tend to shut things down before they even take shape, smother a little baby idea with criticism before it can draw even one solid breath. I don't know where the fear comes from, but this is my habitual behavior. I would like to try and change it. (See: Day 1.)

So what do I do that doesn't contribute to my writing?

1. I don't write. I've been writing every day on 750words.com for a couple of months now, only missing a few days here and there, and even though it's not any kind of formal writing, it's so helpful as an exercise. I know that I can take 10 minutes and churn out 750 words on whatever is on my mind, and usually I learn more about what I'm thinking or what's really going on.

2. I don't write. Beyond the exercise of 750 words a day, I avoid writing even though it's what I feel like I want to do. I even got paid for some writing this year, which felt awesome. But each and every time I avoided it until the last minute. I respond much better to external pressure than my own internal motivation.

3. I edit before I write. When I sit down to write, whether it's a magazine article that I've carefully reported or just some private journaling that nobody will ever see, I manage to convince myself that it sucks even before I begin. On an intellectual level, I understand that everyone has to do "shitty first drafts," but somehow, emotionally, I believe that I should be the exception. It's hard for me to accept the pain of the shitty first draft.

Something I need to get in better touch with is my desire to write and what I think I have to say. On a deep level, I don't really believe that I have anything important to share with the world. Recently, I got a nice email from someone who read a magazine piece I wrote and found solace in it. It was so wonderful to hear that someone had benefited from my work, and that has encouraged me to keep going. And at the same time, I think I can't focus on how the world will receive my writing -- I have to write because I want to do it, not because it'll bring me money or prestige or legitimacy or friends.

So I think the answer to this question can be summed up as: the thing I do that doesn't contribute to my writing is NOT WRITING.

Thanks, Reverb10 folks, for including this thought-provoking prompt. If the rest of the month is this good, I'm really going to learn a lot before 2010 becomes 2011.

Reverb10 Day 1: One Word

2010-12-01T14:14:00.001-05:00

Today's prompt: Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?

The year 2010 can be (just barely) summed up in one word: growth.

2009 was a year of change: moving across the country, changing jobs (from full-time public radio producer to part-time radio host & part-time stay-at-home-mom and home manager), getting our first house ever. Things moved so quickly in 2009 that we barely had time to catch our breath. We said goodbye to good friends and the home we had made over the previous 9 years, and we hung out at a couple of way stations while we waited for our home to be ready for us.

We closed on our new house on January 4, 2010, and moved in the same day. It's nearly 11 months later and there is so much still unfinished, but it does feel like a home now. I'm happy that we were able to cook a meal in our new kitchen with old friends on the second day we were here. To me, that's really how you christen a home: with food and friends. We've spent a lot of time (and money) over the past year getting the house set up the way we like, and while there's still a lot to do, it's very comfortable and very "us" and we love it. Sometimes I can't believe I live in a house this nice. Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve it. Sometimes I feel like I want a smaller place, with less maintenance and less responsibility. Then I remind myself that nothing is forever, but we need to stay here for 3 years in order to keep that first-time homeowners' tax credit we took. So for 2 more years, at least, this will be our home and then we can downsize again if we want.

Growth in other ways this year: my physical health. I spent three months doing intense training with the Peak Condition Project (see my blog here), which was an incredible learning experience in many ways. I learned that it really can take daily effort for weeks in order to build a new habit or learn a new skill. (Example: jumping rope. I was horrible at it for the first six weeks, which is way longer than I would normally stick with something before deciding I couldn't do it. Then I slowly got better.) I learned that physical exercise is absolutely key to my mental health, and I have happily maintained my exercise habit in the months since the project ended. I learned that I can live without sugar and processed foods. (This is a lesson I'm still trying to really absorb, because I've gone back to some of my old eating ways in the last couple of months.)

More growth: daily writing has been very helpful for processing things that happen.

Even more growth: Finding my footing as a parent. My daughter is 2 1/2 years old now, and I feel like I'm finally getting used to being a mother. The work is constant and exhausting, and the anxiety I feel sometimes is huge. Think of the responsibility! I not only have to make sure she's safe and fed and clothed, but I'm supposed to make sure she's a wonderful human being and a productive and independent member of society. Sheesh. But lately I feel like I've gotten calmer and better able to focus on her when we're together, and I feel less anxious about my parenting choices. This is a very good thing.

The one word for 2011: fearless. I have spent too much time being afraid of what might happen if I tried something new. I make too many decisions based on fear: usually fear of failure, but sometimes fear of success. I want to make my decisions based on what my heart tells me to do, what is best for me and my family, what is the most compassionate or sensible or productive thing to do. I am not a risk-taker by nature, but I know that even for a risk-averse person I have missed too many opportunities because I am afraid. There must be a way to stretch out, to get out of my comfort zone, and to wake up my sleeping abilities without putting myself in actual danger. I know I'm capable of so much more than I'm actually doing right now, because I get fearful and I run away. The fear is about clinging to ego, I know this. My self-image is so precarious that I don't want to damage it in any way. But what do I stand to gain by staying safe? Not much. So for 2011, no more decisions based on fear.

Time to reflect and look ahead

2010-11-30T13:40:00.003-05:00

Tomorrow is December 1, 2010. One more month until we reach another calendar year. How is it possible that the days seem so long, but the years go so fast? (Gretchen Rubin is absolutely right.) It seems just a short time ago that I was trying to find my footing in a rental condo in my new-again hometown of Louisville, working on getting a house built, learning how to be a stay-at-home-mom and a part-time freelancer, trying to remember how to be a Kentuckian instead of a New Yorker. So many things have changed in the last year.

I took part in a blog challenge last year sponsored by Gwen Bell, who provided daily prompts for reflection and who also created a little community around this project. It was this project that got me to sign up for Twitter and showed me how useful it can be. It was this project that got me thinking in an organized way about what I wanted for my next year. Some of my aspirations have come true, others have not. It's time to do it again. Gwen has put together a new-and-improved version of the project, now called Reverb10 and I have no doubt it will be useful, fun, and hopefully just a little bit enlightening.

I'm going to put my series on lojong slogans and parenting on hold for the time being (not that anybody's reading 'em) (not that that matters) while I take the next 31 days for daily writing in this space. If you're interested in taking some time to look at the year that was and consider the year that is to be, I highly recommend taking part in Reverb10. There's no cost or obligation or anything. You can write publicly or privately. (I'll probably be doing both.) The important thing is to take a step back, look at how things are going with you, and get in touch with what you would like to happen next.

I've been taking my daughter to some parent-child classes at the Waldorf School of Louisville, and for the next few weeks they'll be talking about Advent. My religious education, especially in the Christian tradition, is pretty spotty, but I know that Advent is the time leading up to Christmas. It's the time of year when the days get darker, and I think our attention naturally turns inwards. We got a handout at Waldorf yesterday about "inner Advent," an article suggesting this is a good time of year to take an inventory and reflect, complete with suggestions for each week's focus. (Mineral kingdom the first week, then plant kingdom, animal kingdom, then humans.)

I think the inclination to take stock at this time of year is probably pretty ancient: we're heading into the cold and dark season, we want to make sure we know where our food and family are, we want to feel secure when the outside world turns harsh and unsupportive. In this world, most of us aren't searching for food or warmth at this time of year, but those old habits die hard. It's a good time to quiet the mind and listen to the heart. For me, a structured, community-oriented project like Reverb10 is a good way to get this done. Maybe you'd rather follow your own instincts. But I hope that you take this time to look at where you are, and where you'd like to be. And stay warm.

Lojong Parenting 3: Unborn Awareness

2010-11-10T10:41:00.007-05:00

Today's slogan has a couple of different translations:

Find the consciousness you had before you were born.

or

Examine the nature of unborn awareness.

This one is a little tricky -- not so simple to understand at first glance. But it's really the object of meditation practice, to discover that little bit of stillness within that's not subject to opinions, analysis, sorting into good or bad, I-want vs. I-don't-want.

Chogyam Trungpa said:
"Look at your mind. That is a part of ultimate Bodhicitta training or discipline. Our mind fluctuates constantly, back and forth, forth and back. Look at that, just LOOK AT THAT!"

And once again, Pema throws it down:
"The real purpose of this slogan is to pull the rug out from under you in case you think you understood the previous slogan. If you feel proud of yourself because of how you really understood that everything is like a dream, then this slogan is here to challenge that smug certainty. It's saying: 'Well, who is this anyway who thinks that they discovered that everything is like a dream?'"

(Thank you, Pema. You rock, as always.)

I was thinking again about this "everything is a dream" slogan this morning, when I woke up from an extremely vivid and exhausting dream -- which was about waking up from a dream. (Yes, I saw Inception, and I have these dream-within-a-dream dreams all the time. Freaky.) In my dream, I woke up and went to the bathroom and found my cousin in there, cleaning with a bag over her head. I was trying to drag her out to the bedroom and call my husband for help, but I couldn't yell -- my voice just wouldn't work. In my dream, I was thinking, "This is a dream, so of course I can't call for help." Then I woke up suddenly (for real) and needed to go to the bathroom, but was almost scared to do it because I didn't know what I would find. I sat up in bed and reminded myself that it's ALL a dream. That didn't really help, and I had to turn all the lights on in order to get myself out of bed.

I had been proud of myself for feeling like I understood the last slogan, so taking on this one is a little scary, because it's starting to show me the shaky ground underneath my feet. Or maybe there isn't any ground at all. I'm starting to touch that concept a little bit, at the same time that my daughter is showing a defiant streak for the first time. We may be getting the real "terrible twos" and it's very disorienting. My normally happy-go-lucky, cooperative kid is starting to resist the smallest things: getting dressed in the morning, putting on her seatbelt, brushing her teeth. I know it's all about her need to feel like she's in control. It's hard to be a little kid: you're always doing what big people tell you to do. So she pushes back where she can, just to feel like she has some power of her own.

I know that sometimes I get caught up in needing to prove that I'M the one in charge, and that causes a power struggle. Yes, we need to get out the door in the morning, and no, putting on her seatbelt in the car is not negotiable. But I think that within the constraints of "what we need to do," I can be a little more flexible. At the very least I need to make sure that when I insist on something, it's not because of some small-minded need to "win." She's two years old, for crying out loud. I don't need to use her (or anyone else) to prop up my ego.

So, for the next few days, my mission is to ask myself just WHO is doing the asking. I know (from experience) that it's all too easy to take this to a nihilistic extreme and decide that nothing exists, nothing matters, so I need to keep grounded in daily life as much as possible. I'm doing this to make my daily life better and richer, not to drift off into the clouds. But maybe this idea can help me lighten up just a bit.

Lojong Parenting 2a: Results of "Treat All Dharmas As Dreams"

2010-11-05T14:44:00.003-04:00

When my daughter was born, so many people told me, "Cherish these early weeks. They grow up so fast." After a couple of weeks of exhaustion, nerves, and learning to nurse, I couldn't understand what those people meant -- this sh*t was taking forever. But when she was a month old, I looked at some photos we took of her birth and I couldn't believe how quickly she was growing up.

Now she's almost 2 1/2 years old, and yes, it seems to happen quickly, although there are days that seem incredibly long. When I think about her early months, it does all seem like a dream, and I remember that change is the only constant with children.

The slogan "treat all dharmas as dreams" has been very helpful to me this week, if bittersweet. She's just starting to wake up from her nap right now and I can hear her talking sleepily to herself on the baby monitor. One way to look at this is, "Oh no, naptime's over and I haven't gotten half the things done that I wanted to accomplish." Another way to look at it is, "Listen to her little voice, helping her process what she did this morning and what she's going to do after her nap."

When she's being stubborn or obnoxious, I can remind myself: She's not always going to be like this. And when she's being charming and delightful, I can remind myself: She's not always going to be like this.

When I think of treating everything like a dream, the hard moments become easier and the good moments become sweeter.

I'll be back next week with another slogan to ponder and apply.

Lojong Parenting 2: Dream a little dream

2010-10-29T13:44:00.003-04:00

Regard all dharmas as dreams.

Hmmm, what?

Another, simpler way to put this could be "Treat everything you encounter as a dream."

This is the first slogan in the section called "formal practices," or "specific things you can actually try to do." After the preliminaries, setting the stage by realizing the impermanence of life and appreciating your own good fortune just to be here, this slogan instructs on the general viewpoint you should take.

In fact, I think I heard my daughter singing something like this not too long ago...

"Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream..."

It always struck me as a funny line in a children's song, but maybe that's why it's lasted so long.

The instruction "regard all dharmas as dreams" is supposed to remind us not to take anything too terribly seriously, because nothing is really solid. Trungpa reminds us that doesn't mean things have to be fuzzy and sloppy -- sometimes dreams feel very sharp and real, just like everyday life -- but it does mean we need to remember that everything we perceive is a production of our own mind.

When it comes to parenting, this slogan can be both comforting and distressing. On the one hand, it's very helpful to remember to "lighten up" when things seem bad. Just this afternoon, my daughter had an inexplicable hissy fit when we were getting in the car -- one moment she's happy, the next moment she's got some problem with her pants that is just unbearable. Of course, this happens as I'm trying to get her into her carseat, I've got the car door open, my butt sticking out into traffic, she's screaming and spitting, I really need to go to the bathroom... you get the idea. But if I can remember that none of this is really solid, it's all going to pass by, and a lot of the frustration I'm feeling is a creation of my own mind -- well, that's really helpful.

The distressing side is that same reminder that we feel throughout life: nothing is permanent. Those lovely, delightful moments when she's singing to herself as she falls asleep? Or when she comes up behind me and throws her arms around my neck and shouts, "I'm hugging you, Mommy!" Those are just as much of a dream as the bad stuff. She won't be this little forever.

So, my mission for the next few days is to treat all dharmas (i.e., toddler meltdowns, as well as toddler kisses) as dreams, and see how that changes things. Happy dreaming!

Lojong Parenting 1a: Results of "Preliminaries"

2010-10-27T09:25:00.005-04:00

I'm not sure exactly how to organize these posts, but here's what I'm going to try: I'll report on the results of working with each slogan, then in a separate post, do an analysis of the new slogan I'm going to try. Does that make sense? They'll all stay in order and you can read through them at your leisure. If you want to know more about this whole project, read the introduction here.

For the past few days, I've been working on keeping "the preliminaries" in mind while spending time with my daughter. (Here's my original post on the four preliminaries.) It seems to me that these four preliminaries, or reminders, serve as a grounding in why we're doing this -- this being working with the slogans, or working with our mind -- in the first place. It's important to set the table, to create the container, to get our mise en place prepared before starting out.

I can already see the difference that keeping these ideas in mind has made for my time with my daughter. These four reminders have had the effect of opening and softening my heart, helping me to slow down and focus on her when we're together. And I can tell that she notices a difference.

There's been a lot of difficulty with bedtime in the last few weeks, which has been unusual for us. I've made it a point to establish a regular bedtime routine, and typically there is little to no resistance from her. Bedtime is lovely, warm and snuggly and comforting. But lately, she's been getting increasingly creative in avoidance, sometimes literally running around the room and forcing me to catch her in order to put her pajamas on. The requests for "a drink of water" or "one more book" become endless, and bedtime has been stretching out into a 45-minute ordeal that ends with her clutching me and wailing as I put her in her crib and leave the room, feeling guilty and frustrated and exhausted all at the same time. The same has been happening at nap time. My husband, my mother, and the babysitter have no problems putting her to bed, though -- this only happens with me.

My husband suggested that she simply wants to spend time with me more than she wants to spend time with anybody else, and that her delaying tactics are a way to spend more time with me. At first I didn't understand this -- we already spend a lot of time together, why is she having such a hard time letting go?

But then I realized that I wasn't always focused when I was with her. I'm distracted, I'm busy, I have a hard time sometimes slowing down enough to be with her 2-year-old brain. I get bored, I get antsy, I want to do something fun for me. And as a result, I'm missing the point, and I'm missing days of her childhood that I'll never get back. And I'm creating anxiety for her, as she can feel that I'm not really there with her.

So the reminders to be grateful for this fortunate human birth, that death comes without warning, that karma is always working, and that everyone is suffering have been extremely helpful in getting me to slow down and be present. When I realize that I'm hurrying or not paying attention, one of these ideas pops into my head (usually the one about death, to be honest) and I feel an instant opening and calming. I can listen to her, talk with her, go along with her repetitive imaginary games, and take her outside first thing in the morning to look at the moon and look for school buses.

Is it any coincidence that bedtime has been much easier the past few days? Maybe. Kids go through phases that seem to have no explanation, so it's possible that whatever phase she was in has passed. But I think it's also possible that she feels the difference in her mother, that she knows I'm more present for her, and she doesn't need to cling to me when it's time for that scary separation into sleep. It becomes a virtuous cycle, too: when bedtime is simple and sweet and easy, I'm happier to see her when she wakes up, and then happier to be with her all day.

It's easy to disregard something called "preliminaries" -- it's not the real stuff, right? -- but in this case, I have already benefited from keeping these preliminaries in mind. They're good reminders for anybody, in any difficult situation, that just by being alive and being able to think about these things, you have an advantage. Things instantly feel more workable.

Next up: dreams.

Lojong Parenting 1: Preliminaries

2010-10-23T17:48:00.004-04:00

First, train in the preliminaries.

And that's how it starts. Don't rush in. Get your shit together before you start. Do your homework.

Here's what Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche (one of the people I consider to be my teacher, although I never met him) said about this one:

In practicing the slogans and in your daily life, you should maintain an awareness of

[1] the preciousness of human life and the particular good fortune of life in an environment in which you can hear the teachings of Buddhadharma;

[2] the reality of death, that it comes suddenly and without warning;

[3] the entrapment of Karma - whatever you do, whether virtuous or not, only further entraps you in the chain of cause and effect; and

[4] the intensity and inevitability of suffering for you and for all sentient beings.

This is called "taking the attitude of the four reminders"

(All commentaries come from this excellent, amazing site, which I will be linking to frequently and praising like crazy.)

OK, that's rather a lot of explanation for such a short sentence. I'm going to take each one and see how I can apply it to parenting.

1: Anybody who has successfully completed a pregnancy is only too aware of the preciousness of human life. It all seems so improbable, that everything should go right and then a whole new person appears. Very quickly, though, the child starts to change your entire life and it's easy to resent the things you feel you've lost. It's good to remember how lucky I am to have a healthy child, to be healthy myself, and to be able to have come into contact with these slogans in the first place.

2: This makes my heart stop in my throat. Thanks, Buddhists, for getting to the point so quickly. Death comes without warning, for all of us. There is no time to waste.

3: Actions produce results. Choosing to be more deliberate about my work as a parent is a more positive action than being haphazard or worse, resentful.

4: Yep, thanks again, Buddhists, for reminding me that we're all suffering, and there's no way around it. In a way, that's a relief, because it means that my suffering is not unusual, I'm not the only person who fucked up her life -- we're all suffering! And that includes children as well. I'm suffering, my daughter is suffering, we'd best find a way to get through it.

That's enough for now. I'm going to focus on just these ideas -- which really seems like a lot! -- for the next few days, and see how it changes my interactions with my daughter. If you're reading this and want to try it too, let me know how it goes.

New series: Lojong Parenting

2010-10-23T17:32:00.006-04:00

To mark my return to regular blog writing, I've decided to give myself a framework, which should focus my thinking and maybe help find some regular readers. I've recently been struggling with how to be a better parent, and as with all things, I turn to my Buddhist/Shambhala studies and training for answers.

One of my very favorite tools is the lojong slogans, a series of short instructions for training the mind, supposedly originating in the 12th century. I love these instructions because even though they're ancient, they seem absolutely modern and direct. They relate to how we work with the mind, but they're rooted in the world outside of the monastery, in everyday experience. I've come back to them several times since first learning about them, and there's always something new to experience. Some people use the word "proverbs" to describe the lojong slogans -- that word has Christian overtones to me, so I don't choose to use it, but I think it's also apt.

A sampling:

Treat everything you perceive as a dream.

All dharma agrees at one point.

Abandon poisonous food.

Keep your vows, even at the risk of your life.

Intrigued? I was, when I first encountered this collection of sayings. Each one of these short statements has greater meaning behind it, but when you understand that meaning, the short statement is enough of a reminder to bring you back.

I've decided to do a series of posts about applying the lojong slogans to parenting, which I hope will be useful to me as well as anybody who reads this. It doesn't get much more "real world" than a screaming toddler. And the results of my actions not only affect me and my day and my experience of the world, but they are part of shaping another person. It's pretty important, challenging work, and it's the task ahead of me that I cannot escape.

I'm not an authority on Buddhism, and I haven't spent years studying these ideas, so I won't pretend to have the last word on what each instruction means. Several teachers have published long treatments of the slogans, so I plan to rely on those treatments and I will give credit every time I quote someone. I'm looking to put these slogans to the test, in daily life, as I get my 2-year-old daughter through the day and try to give her what she needs to be a full person. And at the same time, I'm also thinking of myself: I've found parenting to be the most difficult thing I've ever done, and I need some help.

There are about 57 slogans in all, although some have multiple parts that merit separate examination. I'm planning to post at least a couple of times a week, reporting back on how each slogan helps (or not) with the daily work of parenting. I hope you'll join me with your comments and thoughts.

The summer project

2010-06-06T09:01:00.003-04:00

I'm making a commitment this summer to getting in shape. No, really.

Here's where to follow my progress, and see what I'm doing. 6 days in and so far, so good. It's a combination of diet, exercise, and social networking. Nothing like posting a weekly picture to make you think before eating!

Not that I post all that often here, but things will be a little more sparse throughout the summer as I focus on my fitness goals. I'm posting every day over there, though. Come on over and cheer me on!

Mother's Day is coming....

2010-04-15T14:24:00.003-04:00

I have nothing new to say at the moment. I'm working on a post, really I am. In the meantime, I wanted to post this:

There are actually some great things at this link. Really, I wouldn't do it if I didn't think so. Back soon with more...

Resistance and Hope

2010-04-06T06:48:00.004-04:00

Where does resistance come from? You know that such-and-such a thing is good for you, it moves you closer towards a goal, and if you only do this thing (which is really not so terrible) every day or every couple of days, then you will achieve something that you want (or which you think you want).

But inside, there are barriers.

There are active barriers that get creative with you and tell you that your goal is not worthwhile, that you'll never achieve it anyway, who are you to be dreaming that big dream? And as daily life throws up complications and chaos, those barriers inside tell you to just go with the flow and let the big dream go, because it's just going to be too hard.

And then there are the passive barriers, that don't have anything to say about your ability or your worth but which simply tend towards inertia and lethargy. Why bother, they yawn. It's so nice to just sit here in the sunnnnnnnn..........

So then your big project languishes. Your small projects languish too. And you look up and realize that nothing has changed since last year.

Having a child drags you into the heart of change, every day. My daughter is nearly 2 years old now, so for about 2 1/2 years my life has felt completely different. The day I saw that positive pregnancy test, I really felt like the world shifted on its axis a little bit. I've been trying to adjust my posture and my vision ever since.

But somehow I still resist. I understand that the world is impermanence, and when things are bad, this is a comfort. But when I want to push myself to create change, to live out that impermanence in my own life, there is a weight inside of me that makes things all the harder.

My Buddhist studies and Shambhala training have helped me immeasurably in this life, and at the same time have created a bit of a problem for me. When you think of everything as impermanent, a kind of nihilism can take hold. (See The Unbearable Lightness of Being.) Why bother? Nothing really matters. Might as well sit on the couch and eat Pop Tarts.

So the key, as far as I can tell, is to find a way to push through resistance, move ahead, do the actions to make progress without worrying about the progress itself -- while at the same time, recognizing impermanence, recognizing chaos, acknowledging the limits of control. It's a daily reboot, a daily affirmation of goals and desires and priorities. I push against the resistance and it pushes back. IknowyouarebutwhatamI...

I think it's important to be able to look at progress not as a steady linear thing, a line soaring upwards with hope and energy, but as a jagged, jumbly, sometimes imperceptible path. And when you have to start over, just start over. Dispense with the recriminations and just get moving in the right direction again.

I may never understand the roots of my resistance, but I don't have to understand them to push through.

Life is not about Getting to Done

2010-02-05T11:06:00.018-05:00

How do you remember what you need to get done?

And what happens after everything is done?

When I was in 6th grade, I was missing assignments every week - just forgot to do them or, worse, to turn them in. I had no system for tracking my work, aside from shoving everything in my backpack and sorting out the crumpled papers in the evening. Enter the Franklin Planner.

(A moment of silence, please.)

The Franklin Planner was a three-ring binder with special pages for tasks, appointments, notes, and long-range goal planning. My parents both used one, and they decided that a Franklin Planner would be the solution to my rampant disorganization. The company that makes these binders, now known as Franklin Covey, now makes all sorts of specialty pages for women, for teens, for kids -- but at that time, there was one design: a subdued corporate green, perfect for CFOs and compliance officers. I put that faux-leather covered binder in my backpack, whipped it out at the end of every class period and wrote down my assignments. This added greatly to my already-flourishing popularity.

But it did help me keep track of my school assignments, and it changed the way that I think about work, organization, and time. The way my father (and the Franklin Planner people) explained it to me, once you write something down, you don't have to think about it any more: it's there, on paper, waiting for you to deal with it, and it won't fall through the cracks. The Franklin system encouraged users to take quiet time to plan in the morning, prioritize the day's tasks, then plow through each item.

The anxiety-reducing effect of this method was powerful for me. I stopped worrying about what I was forgetting, because everything went in the book. If I didn't have anything left on my list to do, I was free to do whatever I wanted, because that meant my work was done. I was still Nerdy McNerdster toting around my little binder, but I didn't forget assignments and commitments, and that made me feel calmer.

I was a hardcore Franklin user throughout school, well into my first "real" job, until I wanted to step up to an electronic version and keep my tasks on my Palm PDA. The Franklin software wouldn't sync properly with the computer, and tasks would -- gasp! -- fall through the cracks, which put me on edge all the time. "What am I forgetting?" was my constant refrain, because I couldn't trust that my list included all of my tasks. I reinstalled a hundred times, consulted on the phone with their useless customer service, and finally concluded that Franklin was failing me and it was time to leave. I felt a bit like a cult member leaving the compound for the first time in years: I was bereft, unsure of how to structure my life. I bought a simple spiral notebook to keep a rudimentary to-do list, and began looking for new ways of thinking about organization.

What struck me as I began looking around the internet for (what are now known as) productivity systems, is that a) every guru's got one and b) it's easy to get obsessed with the system itself, with the folders and the tabs and the notebooks and the capturing and the processing. If you're a techy person, there are lots of nifty tools. If you're a paper person, enter the Moleskine. I read Getting Things Done by David Allen, one of the leading systems out there, with a cult following online -- and I felt exhausted by just trying to handle all the information he was presenting. It seemed to be more work than it was worth to go through the whole GTD process.

I tried a few different ways of tracking my work, but I didn't really feel totally comfortable with anything until I got an iPhone. I use Remember the Milk to track my tasks, and my calendar and contacts all sync on the iPhone too. I feel reasonably well-organized in the sense that I know where I'm supposed to be and I know what needs to get done today, tomorrow, and next week.

But my time in the productivity wilderness, and becoming a parent in the interim, taught me something: life is not about checking off all those items on your list. David Allen calls this "getting to Done," and I used to think it would be a wonderful place to be. That's the fantasy: I'm DONE. I have blasted through all my action items and now I can relax. I can read a book or watch TV or wander through a museum or go shopping, because I AM DONE.

But add a small child to this mix and Done becomes a distant paradise, unachievable and unknowable. Every moment that you spend with that kid, watching her stack blocks or wander around outside, is a moment you're not getting things Done. It takes forever to feed her lunch because she wants to use the spoon herself but she's not so good at it, so that's less time to tackle the list and get Done. When the child is napping, you frantically take on that list and work on getting to Done, but she tends to wake up just when you've hit your stride and Done slides that much further away.

I finally realized that Done is not actually a real place, at least not while we're still alive. Every day we are called to revisit life anew, to start over and take on what needs to happen today. A little kid, especially, teaches this: every day is new, every day is full of things to see and experience, and every day is a new chance to grow.

My child doesn't have the daily responsibilities that I do, of course, and it's important for me to find a manageable way to wrangle those things. I feel like I have finally tamed the daily to-do list, in the sense that everything I need to do is on the list, whether it actually gets done or not. If it's on the list, at least I won't forget it. But I'm still learning that the list itself is under my control. Just because the list exists, doesn't mean I'm required to be chipping away at it every moment. I can't wait until everything on the list is Done to wake up to my life, to be present with my family, to make art. Done is as good as Dead, and I want to be very much alive.

(Image from Flickr.)

Best of 09, Day 31: Resolution

2010-01-01T12:18:00.002-05:00

Which resolution do you wish you had kept this year?

I don't remember making any resolutions last year, although I probably did. I'm always resolving to do better, more, faster, stronger, truer, etc., but I rarely follow through.

I'm happy that I've followed through on completing all 31 prompts for this blog challenge -- that's a big deal! I almost totally fell off when things got busy in the middle of the month, but I got back on and caught up in the end. Yippee!

The resolution for next year is the same resolution I always make, in principle: wake up. Live mindfully, open-heartedly, and with courage. I want to love and let others love me. I want to create and support others' creativity. I want to take good care of myself, and the people around me.

Bye-bye, 2009. Hey, 2010: ciao bella!

Best of 09, Day 30: Best Ad

2009-12-30T12:47:00.002-05:00

What advertisement made you think this year?

When I try to answer this question, I realize that I live in a pretty advertising-resistant world. I listen to public radio, so I only hear the public radio version of advertising (aka "underwriting.") I don't have cable TV so I hardly ever watch TV. I watch things online at Hulu, but the ads there are minimal and I usually ignore them. I don't really pay much attention to the ads in magazines. I know it's everywhere, but I don't really seem to see it.

So it's all the more remarkable that one ad broke through for me this year. It's like a little film, with a great twist at the end, and it's only 30 seconds long. It looks like it was very expensive to make, with all those extras, and all the different settings. This is an ad that really builds the mythology around its product and makes you want some, even if it's just to put the bottle on your makeshift bar and feel like a badass-by-association.

Well done, advertising folks.

Best of 09, Day 29: Laugh

2009-12-29T18:54:00.003-05:00

What was your biggest belly laugh of the year?

I'm sorry to be continually talking about my kid, but she makes me laugh more than anyone, on a daily basis. (She also knows exactly how to push my buttons and make me furious, but that's another story.) She's 17 months old, nearly a year and a half on this earth, and watching her figure things out and make leaps of kid-logic is the funniest, most delightful thing.

For example, she recently heard Alvin and the Chipmunks for the first time, and she's convinced that they are singing...babies. It's a reasonable enough assumption. Look at the album cover (the old-style Chipmunks, not the trashy new Chipmunks) and they do kind of look like fat babies in turtlenecks. I'm cracking up every time she asks to hear "more babies."

In addition to the delightful misunderstandings, she also has a strong goofy streak. We'll be in the grocery store, she's riding in the cart, and all of a sudden she grins and drops her head back and goggles at the ceiling. She points and says, "Lights!" There are lights everywhere, but I don't notice them until she points and giggles. She sways and swoons and almost falls out of the cart, but she doesn't notice because she's having such a good time. At the grocery store.

Everybody's kids say cute things, everybody's kids do funny stuff that makes you laugh. I'm just lucky I have such a nice one living right here, in my house.

Best of 09, Day 28: Stationery

2009-12-28T22:26:00.002-05:00

When you touch the paper, your heart melts. The ink flows from the pen. What was your stationery find of the year?

First, I just have to say how much I love that this topic came up, especially in such a webby project. And by scanning some of the other posts on this same prompt, I see that lots of people have a beautiful-stationery fetish too.

I wrote a long piece about paper for a nonfiction writing class a few years ago, and I'm now convinced it was mainly an excuse to wander through Kate's Paperie for a few hours. Here are the opening paragraphs:

The mailbox always seems full: credit card applications (many), bills (a couple), catalogs (a few, since it’s close to Christmas), an appeal to give money to someone given money last year around this time. I stand inside the front door and sort, dumping most of the junk in a basket that will go directly to the recycling bin, leaving most of it unopened. It feels like such a waste.

But hidden amongst the business is a small, cream-colored envelope, with my name and address artfully inscribed in chocolate-brown ink. I can tell by the variable darkness of the ink that this came from a real fountain pen, not one of those felt-tip deals. I turn the card over and see the return address, indented on a single line along the top of the flap, like Braille in reverse. Inside, a single card, with rough edges like a pirate’s treasure map. The sender’s name is imprinted across the top in looping gold script. It is a thank-you note, and it has made my day. My husband will see the envelope lying on a tray and ask, “Who is this from?”

I had interviewed a woman who ran a letterpress business, and she had asked for my mailing address at the end of our phone conversation. I knew exactly why she wanted it, and was thrilled to oblige. Getting that thank-you note was such a treat.

This year, I made an effort to send Christmas cards in the mail, despite the upheaval in my life. We ordered photo cards from Tiny Prints, and I really enjoyed the ritual of addressing the envelopes and holding each one of those people in my thoughts for a moment. We'll be moving soon, and I'm excited about ordering some "new address" cards to share the good news with everyone.

Beautiful paper options abound; so do gorgeous pens, lovely return-address labels, cute little stickers to seal the back of the envelopes, and more. But the real attraction is the artifact -- the sense that the person who sent this missive held it in his/her hand, touched it, breathed on it, maybe licked it (!), and left fingerprints. Connection, baby. That's what it's all about.

Best of 09, Day 27: Social Web Moment

2009-12-28T21:25:00.001-05:00

Did you meet someone you used to only know from her blog? Did you discover Twitter?

Yep.

I can't remember when I signed up for Twitter, but I know I didn't think much of it at the time. (Just did a little research: it was March '09.) I was already on Facebook, and wondering if I should quit. Twitter just seemed like another way to broadcast what I was having for breakfast to people who didn't care, or to read about other people's breakfasts. Yawn.

I tweeted some pithy observations about my life for a few weeks, then started feeling a little sick to my stomach. Who cares?

Then I decided to make a little art project out of Twitter. Every time I tweeted (that still sounds like something I should do in a room by myself), I used only three words (or small groups of words) to describe my current surroundings. That was fun.

Blue Hill, birthday, perfect.

Apples, laundry, Fresh Air.

Rosh Hashanah, Hebrew in the air, lots of red wine.

(Maybe I'll go back to the three-point plan after this "year in review" is finished.)

And now, this blog challenge has completely opened my eyes to what Twitter can make possible. The idea is to tweet your posts in some way, labeled #best09, so that a community of people can follow each other's thoughts and learn from each other.

This is all new to me. People who I have never met are coming here and reading what I've written, and I have a way to find other people who are doing this same process. Whoa. *mind, boggling*

Thanks, Gwen, for cooking up this cool idea and seeing it through. Twitter is fun, and useful, and I'm looking forward to seeing the possibilities.

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And one other social web moment: YouBeMom. Anytime I have a question or a rant or a vent or a celebration, this is the place to go and get instant -- and I mean instant -- feedback. A weird, anonymous, very New York community that makes me feel less lonely in this place where I have few mom friends.

Best of 09, Day 26: Aha! moment

2009-12-28T20:57:00.004-05:00

(Note: much navel-gazing going on here. Is that always what a blog is? Me me me? It's getting a bit tiring to me. How about you?)

What was your epiphany of the year?

I don't know if it's possible to sum up the year this way, in one epiphany alone. I didn't have a "road to Damascus" experience that turned my life around. Instead, it's a slowly building process that includes some serious setbacks now and then.

But here's one thing that I've been trying recently that has actually made a big difference: pretending to be slightly drunk all the time.

Okay, okay, this definitely needs some explaining. My husband and I just watched the movie Julie and Julia -- my second time seeing it -- and he commented, about Meryl Streep's Julia Child, "She just seems a little bit drunk all the time." I knew exactly what he meant: Julia always seemed amused, delighted, curious, a little loopy, goofy even in her disappointment, beautifully raw in her joy. The "Julia" parts of the movie are enchanting (maybe Paris in the 1950s has something to do with it?) because Julia is so inspiringly optimistic and wide-eyed.

Being a little bit drunk -- in my case, this means one or two glasses of wine -- removes the first level of filter, that coolness we present to the world. It also quiets the worrying voice in the head a bit. We feel a little looser, a little quieter, and a little more curious instead of fearful. (Note: this is my experience, your results may vary.) We're not disabled or sloppy or dangerous or angry. We're just feeling a little less self-conscious and a little more in the moment.

I know some people have serious problems with alcohol, and some readers might not like the way I've phrased this. I'm not talking about drinking all day long, and I'm not talking about being really drunk. This is PRETEND drinking. My actual alcohol consumption is typically limited to a glass of wine with dinner, if that. So don't go thinking I'm condoning alcoholism, drunkenness, or anything else destructive.

For me, "a little bit drunk" is a good shorthand for this feeling I'm talking about. When I try to pretend I'm in this state, I notice that the small irritation is easier to disregard, I see where I can smile instead of fume, and I express the affection that I might otherwise withhold. It's a good way for me to remind myself to lighten up, to relax, and to tell that inner critic to take a little rest.

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UPDATE: I just have to share my horoscope from this week's Free Will Astrology, courtesy of the amazing Rob Brezsny.

"Scientific studies have proved what we all knew already: A person who's only mildly interesting to you will probably become more attractive if you drink a couple of pints of beer. What if I told you, Virgo, that in 2010 you could regularly create the same effect without drinking the beer? I have it on good astrological authority that this will be the case. Due to fundamental shifts in your relationship with the life force, and having nothing to do with how much alcohol you consume, the entire world will often be at least 25 percent more attractive to you than it ever was before. "

Best of 09, Day 25: Gift

2009-12-28T20:32:00.002-05:00

What's a gift you gave yourself this year that has kept on giving?

This is an easy one: exercise.

I'm not really very athletic, naturally, but I know what exercise does for me. There are physical benefits, definitely, and I appreciate those. But for some reason, physical exercise does more for my brain and my spirit than for my body.

I have been struggling for a long time with my body: just enough overweight that I'm unhappy with it, but not super-motivated to change things because I think I look pretty good most of the time. I was ill a lot as a child, capped off by a serious illness at age 18, in my first semester of college. I have a couple of chronic conditions that I manage decently but never forget. My body feels unreliable, an enemy, my underminer. I can't attend an annual family event anymore because there is a cat in the house where we all gather, and I feel my lungs close up when I walk in the door. Thanks, body.

So to feel powerful, strong, and confident in my body is really unusual, and really delightful. I love feeling an inch taller when I leave Pilates class. I love feeling all sexy and sweaty after 45 minutes on the elliptical trainer. I love feeling serene and lithe when I leave yoga class. My spirit is brighter and my breathing is smoother.

The question for next year is: why do I still resist exercise so much? I still have to kick my own ass to get started, every damn time. My life is finally structured in a way that allows me the time to exercise, and I always -- always -- feel better afterwards. I don't understand where the resistance comes from. Maybe I don't need to figure out the "why" as much as I just need to do it.

All I know is that every time I get sweaty, get my heart rate up, or get my muscles engaged and working, I am giving myself a supreme gift. This year, I finally felt worth it.

Best of 09, Day 24: Learning Experience

2009-12-28T19:37:00.002-05:00

(Still plugging away at this year-end blog challenge -- taking time to reflect on the year past and look ahead. Just a few days left in 2009! I'm behind schedule but determined to finish.)

What was a lesson you learned this year that changed you?

This has been such a busy year that I almost felt there was no time for lessons. It's just been all about getting through the next day and all of the things that have to happen. There is an incredible amount of paperwork generated when you move from one state to another, leave a job, close a business, buy a car, start a new job, rent a house for 6 months while you build a house, enroll a kid in daycare, get new insurance and new doctors, buy furniture and appliances, and generally uproot your life and reconstruct it elsewhere. We're almost at the end of this weird transitional period -- about to close on our house next week and move the very same day -- and then I think I'll have more mental energy to spend on "lessons learned."

I can, however, point to one lesson I have learned this year: I can slow down, breathe, and enjoy even the most ordinary moments. My brain likes lots of stimulation -- lots of things to read, many things going on at once -- and spending time with a small child is not always so stimulating. In fact, it can be pretty boring. What's fascinating to her is old hat to me. I read her the same book five times in a row tonight before bed, because she wanted to keep reading the same book.

There are times when I need to get our stuff together and get us out the door for one reason or another, or I need to do something around the house and she just has to hang out with me, and there are still many times when we can just be together, playing or reading or jumping on the bed (don't tell!) or looking out the window. I sometimes get a little panicky at the notion of four hours of just her and me, no structure, nothing we have to do... so I have to push myself to come back and focus on her, focus on the moment when we're hanging out together.

It all comes back to meditation practice, doesn't it? To coming back to your breath (or your seat, or your small child) and starting anew in each moment. And that's when you notice, you value, you understand what never seemed worthwhile before.

Best of 09, Day 23: Web Tool

2009-12-26T14:15:00.000-05:00

It came into your work flow this year and now you couldn't live without it. It has simplified or improved your online experience.

This is a tough one, especially since I'm blessed to no longer spend my workdays in front of a computer screen. I bought a pretty notebook to plan my playlists at work, so I took a step back in terms of technology, but it works for me.

That said, there are two tools that I've started using since getting an iPhone which have been terrific. In both cases, the ability to share with other people (specifically, my husband) has been the most helpful.

Mint -- both the web interface and the iPhone app -- has been an extremely helpful discovery. I used to keep our financial information on Quicken, but I was constantly confused about how to enter and categorize information. And they made you buy a new version every year. FAIL. Mint is free, fast, and intuitive. I can get all the info online, and I can get the same info on my iPhone wherever I am. As we're getting ready to close on our house, we're having to do a little juggling between accounts, and we're constantly checking to make sure that the money is where it's supposed to be. I used to be the Keeper of the Money, and therefore responsible (in my husband's mind) for knowing all the balances all the time. Mint means that both of us have the same info at our fingertips.

The other tool that we both use now is the Google Calendar. I know it's not the shiniest, newest, fastest thing out there, but it's made a huge difference. He doesn't work a Mon-Fri schedule, and I work only occasionally. But with the Google Calendar, we can share our schedules and know what each other is doing, and it saves us from those "but I thought you were going to be home tomorrow" conversations.

Simply being able to have information with us wherever we go, and being able to share that information, heads off misunderstandings and puts us on a level playing field. So yes, basically, my financial management software and my scheduling software mean I have a better relationship with my husband. Funny how that works out.

Best of 09, Day 22: Startup

2009-12-26T14:02:00.001-05:00

What's a business that you found this year that you love? Who thought it up? What makes it special?

This year's winner is Etsy, hands-down. I had looked around the site before, but never made a purchase until this year. We decided to simplify Christmas this year, and go for more-meaningful, less-costly gifts. I started poking around on Etsy and realized that I could do almost all of my shopping there. My mom, my husband, my brother, my sister-in-law, my brother-in-law, my nephew, and my father-in-law all got gifts purchased on Etsy. (That's almost my entire list, by the way.)

I've written earlier about how much fun it was to get my gifts from Etsy, because each one was a special little package, put together just for me and for the recipient. What I love about Etsy is the sheer gorgeousness of the creative display. There are people all over the world who make wonderful things, and there are little shops all over the world that sell those wonderful things. But when I'm doing my Christmas shopping (or any other kind of shopping, for that matter) at home while my daughter naps, Etsy is unbeatable. The site is well-organized and cheerful, but it's the sellers who really have to shine (or not).

I first learned about Etsy when Maria Thomas, formerly the head of digital media at NPR, left her job at NPR to work at Etsy. (I used to work at an NPR affiliate station, and had met Maria at a few conferences.) Huh, I thought. That craft store must be a pretty big deal if she's going to run it. Little did I know... it's not just a craft store. I'm especially impressed with how the Etsy team has really created a community around the products, using the full possibilities of social media to expand on the e-commerce side.

Since finishing my Christmas shopping, I haven't spent much time on the site, but I'm looking forward to browsing for things for our new house. Thank you, Etsy!

Best of 09, Day 21: Project

2009-12-26T13:55:00.002-05:00

What did you start this year that you're proud of?

I'm proud of this blog challenge, for one. It's been great to get into a regular flow of writing (even if I miss a few days here and there) and review the high points of the year, not just bitch about what didn't go right.

I'm very proud of running a 5K race for the first time.

We're building a house, and it's almost done. That's pretty cool.

I went back to Weight Watchers, lost 5 pounds before the holidays, working on the next 15 starting today.

Really, starting things is not my problem. I'm awesome at starting things. I get very excited, I do lots of research, I buy necessary supplies. I love discovering new worlds and envisioning myself as part of those new worlds.

My problem is finishing, or at least continuing beyond the point where the newness wears off. That's why I'm so happy about the 5K -- it was tough, but I didn't quit. I'm determined to do all 31 prompts in the blog challenge, even if I don't get to do one every day, because I don't want this to be another thing that I just drop when it gets boring or tough. This is the skill I'm teaching myself this year: starting is fun, and there are even greater rewards to perseverance.

Best of 09, Day 20: New Person

2009-12-26T13:35:00.002-05:00

I have really been stuck on this one. Here's the prompt:

She came into your life and turned it upside down. He went out of his way to provide incredible customer service. Who is your unsung hero of 2009?

I've met a bunch of new people this year, since moving (back) to a new (old) place. But nobody is coming to mind as THE person of the year, despite several days mulling over. The people at my new workplace (which is very part-time) seem great, but no best friends yet. My neighbors also seem nice, but I haven't spent much time with them. This has, funny enough, been the year of time alone and time with my daughter.

So, as kind of a cop-out, I'm going to mention Terry, my new hairstylist. This seems kind of insignificant, compared to all the other people who are important to me, but bear with me. One of the very hardest things about moving is finding a new hairstylist. (For three years after I moved to New York, I continued coming back to Louisville to get my hair cut, because I was too scared to go find someone new.) It's a very personal thing -- you want someone who can respond to your vague desires and make you feel like a better version of yourself, but still you. I took a chance and went to Z Salon, mainly because one of my Facebook friends got a great haircut there. I let them assign me to a stylist, and she turned out to be terrific: smart, funny, motherly (in a nice way), and I feel like she really got what I was asking for.

The other part of this story is that my hair has changed since having a baby. I've always wanted curly hair, and all of a sudden, I have it. My hair is very thick and heavy, and it started frizzing up when I let it air-dry. I was happy to have curly hair, but I had no idea what to do with it, and blowing it dry was taking forever. Enter Terry. She hooked me up with a few key products (oh Aveda stuff, I love you) and showed me how to handle my mop, so most of the time now I have really pretty, wavy hair.

It may sound like a small thing, but anybody who's ever gotten a bad haircut knows that it is not. Your hair is on you every day, and it says something about who you are. Having a good haircut, and knowing how to style it yourself, is a huge confidence booster. At a time in my life when I'm trying to meet new people and make new friends, I can say thanks to Terry for helping me out with the 'do.

Best of 09, Day 19: Car Ride

2009-12-22T20:38:00.002-05:00

The car ride that comes to mind this year is one that no longer exists for me. For 8 years, living in New York, I was happily car-free. My commute to work took 45-60 minutes each way, and involved subway, bus, and a ten-minute walk. Because I did a so-called "reverse commute" (out of Manhattan in the morning, back to Manhattan in the evening) my subway car would often be empty and the only other people on the bus in the morning would be drunk. It was so depressing I could hardly stand it, but I got a lot of reading done.

Once I got pregnant, we decided to get a car, and I started driving to work. My drive would go like this: pick the car up at the garage, north on Cabrini, right on 187th, right on Fort Washington, right on 181st (dodging double-parked cabs & delivery trucks all the while) then right on the Henry Hudson Parkway. North on the Henry Hudson, through Riverdale, to the Mosholu Parkway, past the crazy Flash Gordon high-rises, past the Ethiopian runners training on the grassy median, to the end of Moshulu at Southern Boulevard. (Deep sighs beginning here, because I'm almost at work.) Right turn into Fordham University parking lot. Park, walk down the stairs into basement, feel spirit shriveling because I will spend all day in a room with no windows.

Going home, the drive would be similar except with unpredictably awful traffic at any point along the way. I never did understand it -- I would zoom to work in 15 minutes, and the ride home could be as long as an hour. Who are you people?

Thinking about this daily car ride makes me feel so grateful that I'm no longer doing it. In many ways, it was better than my previous commute, but I was still going to a job that left a lot to be desired, and I was leaving my child at home with someone else. (An awesome someone else, but still.) So I wouldn't call this the "best" car ride of 2009, but it is the best car ride that I no longer have to take.

Best of 09, Day 18: Shop

2009-12-22T20:07:00.002-05:00

Online or offline, where did you spend most of your mad money this year?

You mean, aside from the pediatrician? (Sick kiddo this year, sheesh.) That would probably be Whole Foods, believe it or not. Is that considered mad money? I'm not much of a shopper, but I do appreciate good food.

Some people think Whole Foods is bullshit, or think the whole organic foods movement is bullshit, but I disagree. I read Michael Pollan, and I'm convinced that organic food is better for the planet than conventionally grown food. That's it. I don't know if it's healthier for me to eat, although I think it probably is. I know that calculating a carbon footprint or deciding what's "better" for the environment is incredibly complex. I just know that if my little girl is going to eat chicken nuggets (and she loves 'em), then I'm not going to give her industrial meat. And in my Kroger-dominated town, Whole Foods is pretty much the only place to get anything else.

I also spent money at Carmichael's Bookstore, Blue Dog Bakery, and Heine Brothers Coffee. We dropped some major bucks on furniture at Habitation. Yay for shopping locally!

Best of 09, Day 17: Word

2009-12-22T19:49:00.002-05:00

A word that encapsulates your year. "2009 was _____."

Transitional.

I feel like I keep covering the same stuff with every post, but that's just what happened this year. Major lifestyle change. Full-time job to full-time stay-at-home mom with occasional part-time radio work. City apartment to suburban house. East Coast to South.

And I'm still not done. 2008 was the year I became a mom. 2009 was the year I quit my job and moved across the country. 2010 is going to be the year I....?

Best of 09, Day 16: Tea of the Year

2009-12-22T19:41:00.002-05:00

I'm a dedicated coffee drinker in the morning, but tea seems just right later in the day when I need a little lift instead of a jolt. But for some reason this year, my favorite teas are about slowing down and creating a little more spaciousness in my day.

There are two teas in particular that I've particularly enjoyed this year. Yogi Tea's Bedtime tea is the closest thing to a sleeping pill that I'll ingest. It's not just relaxing because it's warm and caffeine-free; it actually contains valerian root (aka what's in Valium) to help you wind down. I used to drink it before bed all the time, until getting pregnant -- it actually says on the box not to take it during pregnancy and breastfeeding, which was a big bummer, since the last few weeks of pregnancy are pretty sleepless. But now that I'm not nursing anymore, I can enjoy the Bedtime tea again. I've been working with a fair amount of anxiety this year, what with the move and the huge lifestyle change, so this tea has helped me settle.

The other favorite is Good Earth's Original. It says on the box "sweet & spicy" and that really is true. The flavor is cinnamon and cloves and ginger and peppermint, all mixed up together. It's so sweet that it can make a decent substitute for dessert, or it can head off those late-night chocolate cravings. But the real reason I love it? One of my good friends in New York always used to serve it after dinner at her house, and since we spent many happy evenings there, I love remembering her when I sip.

Best of 09, Day 15: Best Packaging

2009-12-22T19:26:00.002-05:00

Packaging and presentation are so, so critical to an experience. I love the idea that the Japanese have a whole tradition of wrapping gifts in a certain way that means something different depending on the occasion, the recipient, the relationship between them, and so on. Of course, we have a tradition of wrapping presents, but as often as not, that can be just shoving a box surrounded by tissue paper into a gift bag. (Good to remember as I'm getting those Christmas presents ready!) I received a housewarming/Christmas present from some friends a couple of days ago, and the box was beautifully wrapped with a lovely jingle bell thingy on top. It looked so lovely I almost didn't want to open it. (Almost.)

I think the best packaging I encountered this year was basically anything I bought through Etsy. I did lots of my Christmas shopping on Etsy this year, and while the presentation varied, it was always fun to get a hand-addressed envelope in the mail, containing a one-of-a-kind object that I had ordered specially for someone. It's been so much fun for me to get all these packages, it's like I had my own Christmas all month long. I love getting a book in the mail from Amazon or whatever, don't get me wrong, but it's even nicer to get something special, unique, and personal.

Best of 09, Day 14: Best Rush

2009-12-14T14:02:00.003-05:00

This is probably so predictable, but it's true.

Every time I see these chubby cheeks coming at me, I have to just throw my arms (and my heart) open wide.

Best of 09, Day 13: Best Change to the Place You Live

2009-12-14T13:49:00.005-05:00

The best change I made to the place I live? About 780 miles.

This year, I returned to my hometown of Louisville after nearly 9 years in New York City. It took me a long time to stop feeling like I had been "beaten" by New York, but I eventually decided I had to leave on my own terms. Not running away from something, but towards something else. I left behind one of the most exciting cities in the world, some lifelong friends, and a great little apartment with a view of the Hudson River. I gained more time, more space, more room to breathe, more room to write, and more room to live.

Yesterday I was half-watching the movie "You've Got Mail" on TV while wrapping Christmas presents, and it occurred to me that it was just a dreamscape of the Upper West Side. I miss New York, but what I miss more is the life that I wished I could have had in New York. In the end, I wasn't willing to make certain sacrifices to my sanity in order to stay there. I didn't think leaving New York would be part of the plan when we decided to start a family, but then it became the only reasonable choice.

I will always miss New York, and I am so glad that I had the chance to live there. I have some regrets about my time there, but it's all part of the package. We're about to close on our new house in a couple of weeks, and I'm looking forward to building this next phase of my life.

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Addendum: This article from the New York Times real estate section exemplifies the many reasons we decided to leave NYC. Husband and wife, both 34 years old, both professionals, looking for a one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan. Looked at several places, finally settled on $625K for 1100 square feet. This is my favorite sentence: "Both sets of parents helped with the financing." For some people, the New York life is worth it, but in the end, it wasn't for me.

Best of 09, Day 12: Food

2009-12-12T21:42:00.002-05:00

I used to have a real taste for junk food of all kinds -- and not even good junk food, like Krispy Kremes. I mean: candy bars bought at the gas station and eaten in the car.

I have some food issues, always have. I love food. Love it love it love it. I love it so much that I wear about 20 extra pounds. Every once in a while I decide to join Weight Watchers (the only sane weight-loss plan, in my opinion) and I lose a few pounds and then I quit.

This has been the year of getting back to eating real food. I read Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma and it's totally changed the way I think about where my food comes from, and what I'm really putting in my mouth when I eat. It seems to me that organic food is probably healthier for my body, but it's definitely healthier for the planet, and worth my support. I'm making a big effort to buy locally produced food when I can. I'm back on Weight Watchers (down 6 pounds in the last 6 weeks!) And I'm trying to stay off the junk.

My food discovery for this year has been... baked sweet potatoes. Preheat oven to 400, poke some holes in that scrubbed and dried sweet potato, set it on a cookie sheet and bake for about 45 minutes or until really soft, depending on the size. Cut it in half and spread it open. Crisscross it with a knife so there are lots of places for that teaspoon of olive oil you're going to pour over it. Liberally douse with kosher salt and fresh cracked pepper. Takes a while to eat and you'll definitely feel full afterwards. And so freakin' delicious, you won't believe it.

Best of 09: Day 11, Best Place

2009-12-11T13:16:00.005-05:00

Today's prompt: The best place. A coffee shop? A pub? A retreat center? A cubicle? A nook?

My best place is a place that I haven't really spent much time in, but I consider it my best place because of the promise it holds.

This is the room that will soon be my home office. (!!!!!!!!!!) We are in the process of building a house, and for the first time in a long while, I will have a Room Of My Own.

I had my own dorm room for one year in college, and I absolutely loved it. It was tiny and only had one little window, but it was perfect and comfortable and mine. Soon after that, I met the guy who I would eventually marry, and we were practically cohabitating from about a month after we met. That's been about 13 years, and I have not had my own space since then.

For the last nine years, we lived in little New York apartments, which were great and fun and gave us a window onto the city. That little New York apartment got a little cramped when we had a baby, but it worked fine for a while. We finally decided to make the move out of town, and as it happens, building a house in Louisville costs less than buying a one-bedroom apartment in NYC. The last details are coming together and we're hoping to close by the end of the month.

There are so many things I love about this house -- the porch, the fireplace, the kitchen -- but my favorite room is already the office. Since the beginning of the planning stages, my husband and I have agreed that the office is mine. (He gets the whole basement, pretty much.) It's not a big room, but it has a huge window, high ceilings, a glass-paneled door, and built-in shelving and a desk. I chose the most beautiful Greek-sea blue for the walls. It already feels cozy and inspiring.

I have always wanted to be a writer. Well, I have always written, but I have rarely shared my writing or "done" anything with it. Having a dedicated space is no guarantee that anything will get done, but it certainly helps. I'm starting to think I'm getting over my "I have nothing to say and nobody would care anyway" ideas. I have been nourished by the idea of this space throughout 2009, and I look forward to using it in 2010.

Best of 09, Day 10: Best Album

2009-12-10T13:46:00.003-05:00

(Continuing with Best of 09 challenge, and relieved to have a somewhat lighter topic than yesterday!)

I used to work at a really great radio station, so I had an almost unlimited supply of free CDs. If I wanted a copy of the new Morrissey, say, I could walk down the hall and pick it up. I left that job about six months ago, and boy, do I miss the music. And not just the free CDs, but working in a place full of music heads. I would hear something great blasting out of my neighbor's office, and something else great coming out of my officemate's computer. There was always someone to talk music with.

There's a great radio station (similar to my old one) where I live now, and I can always listen to my old station on the internet, but I'm definitely not as hooked in as I used to be. And I hardly ever listen to "albums" anymore -- I find a song I like and I buy it on iTunes. I make playlists for various occasions and moods, indulging my inner DJ. But the cohesive album is a rare, beautiful thing these days.

That's why I'm loving Rosanne Cash's new one, The List. Here's the (wonderful) backstory: her father, Johnny Cash, made a list of 100 essential country songs that she should know, and the 12 songs on the album are all drawn from that list.

First of all, the music fan in me shivers to think about Johnny Cash -- Johnny Cash, man! -- making a list of essential songs. That's like, I don't know, Julia Child giving you a list of cookbooks.

And Rosanne Cash is just such a lovely person, such a thoughtful writer and musician. I've had the opportunity to meet her a couple of times, through my previous job, and I have always been impressed by her non-star attitude and her genuine curiosity about the world. She used to write a wonderful monthly "column" which I can no longer find on her website, where she shared her current favorites in books, movies, and music, and wrote about things going on in her life. (Not too long ago, she had brain surgery for a non-malignant tumor. She's doing fine now, obviously.)

Rosanne Cash is a wonderful songwriter, and she's an artist who can speak in a very smart way about the process of writing, so I'm a little sad that we're not getting some new Rosanne Cash songs on this album. But the songs are mostly new to me, and I love hearing her delve into them. The songs bring back what I consider the best aspects of country music -- those wonderfully constructed songs that owe a little bit to Tin Pan Alley and a little bit to the holler. Plus, she has some wonderful backup/duet singers, including Rufus Wainwright, Bruce Springsteen, Jeff Tweedy, and Elvis Costello. The arrangements are gorgeous and her voice has never sounded better.

And one other disc that really rocked my world this year, because I was surprised I liked it: Dan Auerbach's Keep It Hid. He's one-half of The Black Keys, a duo from Akron, OH, that cultivates a gritty, bluesy sound. Not usually my thing -- I'm a classical music girl by training, and I generally like more polished music -- but Keep It Hid is just the right amount of dirty. Groovy, fun with a sense of dark humor. And the toddler loves dancing to it.

Best of 09, Day 9: Challenge

2009-12-09T12:48:00.002-05:00

Here's the prompt for today's writing assignment, courtesy of Gwen Bell:

Challenge: Something that really made you grow this year. That made you go to your edge and then some. What made it the best challenge of the year for you?

This year I decided to run a 5K race. Well, I decided again.

My friend Jennifer became a runner a few years ago. Just became one. She was never really athletic, but she decided she wanted to run, so she did. I think she did the Couch to 5K program to get started, and now she's really into running -- she did a half-marathon this year and is preparing for another one in the spring. A couple of years ago, I thought I would give it a try. Started Couch to 5K, discovered I kinda liked running. I liked the feeling of freedom, I liked the simplicity, and I liked what happened to my ass. (It got smaller.) We had a race on our calendar and I was charging ahead.

Then one day I got on the treadmill and I was ex-HAUS-ted. Could barely get through a run that had been easy a couple of days ago. Wondered if I was getting sick, bailed and decided to rest instead. Two days later, same deal. A week later, positive pregnancy test.

I feel really lucky that I was in good shape when I got pregnant, but I was bummed that I wouldn't be able to do the race. (I probably could have, technically, but first-trimester fatigue really laid me low, like nothing I'd ever experienced before.) I promised Jen that our race was postponed, not cancelled.

Cut to this fall -- we have finally moved to a new place, I have quit my job and I have time to exercise (and I have a gym with childcare). So there's no good reason to *not* try again. Jen is still totally excited about the idea, and I start training again.

And guess what? I don't really like running that much. Surprise!

Running is really, really hard for me. There's a moment of panic that arises when I start to really work hard, start to pant and sweat and feel tired. I should specify, by way of background, that I was an asthmatic child and not really allowed to run around and get out of breath. So running -- or really, any kind of exercise -- is very challenging for me mentally. In the end, I feel better, both physically and mentally, but it's constantly pushing at the edge of my comfort zone. I have moments when the music is just right and I'm in a zone and I feel powerful and strong, but it takes a long time to get there and I'm not always willing to put in the work.

I made myself a promise that if I got through the 5K race, I would never have to run again.

For about three days before the race, I could barely sleep. I had visions of passing out, of giving up and sitting down in the middle of the street sobbing, of needing medical attention, of being the absolute last person over the finish line. My husband, my parents, and Jen kept telling me it would be fine. Actually, Jen kept saying, "It'll be fun!" "Fun" was not something I envisioned.

This is getting a little long, so I'll cut to the heart of it: the race was fun. The weather was beautiful, there were a lot of nice people there, and I felt like I belonged. It was not a super-competitive race (it was a run/walk so there were plenty of non-athletic people who were walking the course) and I felt like a badass for being one of the runners. Jen and I ran some and walked some, but we ran over the finish line. Later we drank beer and ate chili and chocolate because we had worked so hard.

What made this challenging was that I was doing something which, for me, cuts to the heart of my insecurities and my perceived weaknesses. Some people are natural athletes, I am not. Yet I got out there and ran in public. What helped me: supportive friends and family, a life with time to devote to a project, and a sense of commitment.

I still haven't really done any running since then -- I've been more about Pilates and the elliptical trainer. But Jen is angling to get me to be part of a relay on a marathon in the spring, where I would do about 3-4 miles of the total. I think I'm going to have to sign up, because I'd really like to feel like a badass again, and this is a guaranteed way to get it.

Best of 09, Day 8: Moment of Peace

2009-12-09T10:58:00.005-05:00

I'm kind of an anxious person by nature -- a champion worrier, actually -- so a moment of peace can be hard to come by. My life is good, but I'm always wondering when it will be *not* good, when the phone call is going to come that shatters everything. This "talent" for worrying has gotten a real workout since I became a parent, because the list of Bad Things that could happen is literally endless.

So I've been working this year on just being in the moment, whether I feel "peaceful" about it or not. Since I had a child, I spend a lot more time just hanging out, because that's what she does. Yesterday is the perfect example: it was bitingly cold with pouring rain yesterday, so I decided to skip our normal afternoon errands and just stay inside. I had some good music coming out of the computer, and I just decided to be with her, with whatever she wanted to do. We read many, many, many books. We sat on the floor and had a snack. We played a game that, as far as I could tell, consisted of her running to the other side of the room, turning around, and running back to me and collapsing into my arms with a shriek. It was fun.

I have to admit -- I was a little bored. She's a year and a half old, she's not going to satisfy my intellect like an interesting adult will. I will cop to checking Facebook and Twitter while she quietly played with her blocks for a few minutes. I did look out the window and sigh a couple of times because we both wanted to go outside.

But peace isn't about loving every moment like mad. Peace is quieter than that. And ultimately, peace is not about external conditions or what's going on around you at the moment. It's about what's going on inside.

I love my daughter, but I have been less than delighted with some of the changes that parenthood has brought to my life. A year and a half into this thing, I still really miss the freedom I used to have to go do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. And parenting is the only choice I have ever made that I can't really reverse. So, really, it's the perfect crucible for cultivating acceptance and peace. Cause what else am I gonna do -- be miserable? (Tried that, didn't work out.)

I didn't go to any beautiful mountaintops or beaches this year, and I didn't see the inside of a church or meditation hall. My moment of peace is always available, usually prompted by a goofy child with food in her hair. I just have to be awake enough to see it.

Best of 09, Day 7: Blog Find of the Year

2009-12-08T14:01:00.003-05:00

I'm going to keep this one relatively short, because I'm totally not organized with my blog-reading. I vaguely remember certain websites that I like to check out from time to time, and when I have a few minutes I might go check in with a few of them. (Time to *get* somewhat organized, because otherwise I feel like the flow of information is just paralyzingly intense.)

But the one blog that I check out every single day, without fail, is the mighty Go Fug Yourself. My husband cannot believe that I "waste time" looking at a website that critiques celebrity outfits. But he doesn't understand -- it's not the outfits as much as it is the writing. I don't know who Heather and Jessica are, but they are so funny, so smart, so precise and so hooked-in, they are much more than Fashion Police. They're not about cutting people down to be mean -- they are semioticians extraordinaire.

Plus, they have a weekly poetry competition. This week, write a cinquain about Imogen Heap. Take that, intellectual snobs!

Seriously, love you, Fug Girls. You bring a little brightness into every day. And you remind me not to wear high-waisted jeans, because they're not good for a curvy girl.

Best of 09, Day 6: Best Workshop or Conference

2009-12-08T13:28:00.002-05:00

Oh, the conferences I used to attend. Every year, I would go to the Public Radio Program Directors conference, stay up too late, drink a little too much, eat way too much, start to feel energized and excited with new ideas to bring back to my job, then return to work exhausted, hung over, and disillusioned when I realized that making any actual changes at my workplaces was just about impossible. I went to the Third Coast Festival one year and had an outrageously good time and was inspired beyond belief. But then our budget was cut and I couldn't go to conferences any more.

In some ways, conferences remind me of high school: there are the cool kids, and the less-cool kids, and the super-cool kids, and everybody is angling to see who's going to go out later with whom and who's sitting at whose table at lunch. Ugh. Even with extremely friendly people (like most public radio folks), social anxiety still got the better of me sometimes. I looooove staying at hotels, so my first afternoon at a conference was usually spent trying to convince myself to get out of my room and meet people, instead of checking out how many cable channels this place had or what the minibar looked like.

I think the trick to conferences is finding a way to carry that energy back into your regular life. (Same for meditation retreats.) It's much easier to focus, brainstorm, and get excited when you're out of the flow of daily demands -- that's one of the reasons we leave home and office and go to a remote location where the food is brought in every three hours and you never have to leave the building. But when you get back to your life, and start to address some of the issues you thought about at the conference/retreat, having the momentum to really make changes is tough. My previous workplace was almost impervious to change -- people were used to doing things a certain way, and the management didn't exactly encourage trying new things. The conference afterglow faded quickly on Monday morning.

Because I'm officially unemployed, I didn't go to any professional conferences this year, or any meditation retreats, or even any workshops. (Unless you count my daughter's swim classes at the YMCA.) I've been to plenty of classes -- yoga, Pilates, Gymboree -- but I haven't had that sustained experience of focus, camaraderie, and inspiration. There's just been too much going on, with a cross-country move, a new "job", and a house under construction. In the new year, though, I'm thinking it's time to set aside a weekend and find something in which to immerse. Any suggestions?

Best of 09, Day 5: Best Night Out

2009-12-08T12:53:00.003-05:00

(Continuing on with this blog challenge, courtesy of Gwen Bell. I'm still running behind after being out of town for the weekend, but plugging away. You can join up too!)

Night out? What's a night out? Ha ha, new parent joke. I was never the kind of person to tear up the town on a regular basis before having a baby, but now that going out for the evening requires planning ahead to a level never before seen, I go out a lot less. Plus, I'm tired. Plus, no matter how late I stay up, there is no such thing as sleeping in anymore.

So nights out are rare these days, but they do happen. Thinking back over the nights out I've had this year, I'm reminded that it really is important to get out of the house in the evening and be a grownup for a bit.

I think the best night out this year was shortly after A. and I moved back to Louisville, and we went downtown for an "open gallery" night. The East Market area of Louisville is incredibly exciting these days -- the same kind of reclamation (aka gentrification?) seen in warehouse districts and former industrial spaces in many cities. The area has been dubbed NuLu (by whom, I don't know) and they have a monthly trolley hop when all the galleries are open.

It was a beautiful, warm night, and we started off with dinner at the always-amazing Mayan Cafe. (You just cannot imagine what they do with lima beans.) Then we wandered up and down the street, peeking in the galleries and just watching the crowd. There were tons of people out on the sidewalks, doing the same.

A bit of context here: I grew up in Louisville, and I always thought it was soooooo boring. When I was 16, I spent a few weeks in Spain on an exchange program, and one thing that always amazed me was how many people were out in the street every evening. My host sister and I would spend every day from about 5-8pm just hanging out downtown -- and we weren't in a big city at all -- along with everybody else. I loved that kind of lively street life, especially as a teenager. When the Spanish students came to Louisville, they were totally bored because there was nothing to do.

So to come back to Louisville after 9 years in New York City, one of the most vibrant places on earth, and see a sidewalk full of people strolling the galleries and shops, wineglasses in hand, music pouring out of the windows above -- it was just amazing. I know it's not like that every night, but it was heart-warming and soul-reaffirming to see it so soon after moving back.

Best of 09, Day 4: Best Book

2009-12-07T19:45:00.005-05:00

BOOK.

It was one of my daughter's first words, and she still loves books more than just about anything. (Doggies and cheese are still top of the list, but books are up there.) She comes by her bibliophilia honestly -- I'm a nonstop reader, the kind of person who packs extra books for a vacation because the idea of being without something to read strikes fear into my heart. I remember being so desperate in a small town in Italy that I bought a Stephen King novel in French -- which I only sorta read -- so that I would have something besides USA Today.

I literally cannot remember how many books I read this year. I don't keep any formal record of them, aside from the notes in this blog (which was originally intended to be a book blog, starting with The Song of the Lark by Willa Cather). A few good ones that come to mind are:

Cat's Eye by Margaret Atwood - a journey into a woman's memory that is so rich, so detailed and so vivid that I almost felt like they were my memories. The main character is a painter, and all of her paintings come from things that happened in her life. Atwood makes this woman so real that the descriptions of the paintings instantly click because you know the entire backstory. It's hard to explain, and amazing to read.

You Remind Me of Me by Dan Chaon - another family story, mostly taking place in the Midwest. It's full of the dread and sorrow of things that just happen - bad things happening to children mostly. I could barely get through some parts because now that I'm a mother, I cannot deal with books (and movies) with a child in danger. But I admire the construction of this book, the way the storylines work together. I bet someone is making it into a movie.

Babyproofing Your Marriage by Stacie Cockrell, Cathy O'Neill and Julia Stone - I found this one on the bargain rack at B&N and threw it in my basket. Not the kind of thing I usually read, but I was starting to see the damage that our little bundle of joy was doing to my relationship with my husband. This book is fantastic -- I only wish I had read it sooner. The authors are unflinchingly honest about how things change after the arrival of a child. They are funny and real and I was shocked -- shocked, I tell you! -- about how often I recognized myself or my husband in the pages. There is a "Five-Minute Fix" that they suggest to rectify some -- ahem -- imbalances in the relationship. And I can tell you, it works.

But in the spirit of this "Best of" exercise I'm doing, I need to pick a best book. I give that honor to Last Night at the Lobster by Stewart O'Nan. I am new to this author's work, never heard of him before Terry Teachout gave him a shout-out. (A shout-out from Teachout! Far out!) It's not a long book or a particularly ambitious one, but I value it because it showed me a writer getting inside one character's head and their entire world. (Much like Cat's Eye, actually, but on a smaller scale.)

Last Night at the Lobster is the story of one day in the life of Manny DeLeon, the manager of a Red Lobster that is being closed down by "corporate." Manny will be transferred to a nearby Olive Garden, and some of his employees will be going with him, but it's a bummer all around, because the Lobster is really Manny's world. He's a good manager, a stand-up guy, and he feels like the failure of the restaurant is his failure.

I love reading historical fiction -- exquisitely researched tales that take you away to another place and time. Last Night at the Lobster could almost be considered historical fiction of a sort, because O'Nan wraps the reader up in the microcosm that is the restaurant. I used to work at a big chain restaurant, and anybody who has will recognize the corporate-speak and the procedures that Manny and his employees use. But in the midst of the abundance of "milieu," there is a real story of a human being, making choices and living with them.

It's not a heroic story; it's not a big story; it's not going to win a Pulitzer Prize. (Oh, yeah, Olive Kitteridge was pretty great, too...) But Last Night at the Lobster is an object lesson for someone like me who thinks about writing fiction. It doesn't have to be Anna Karenina. You can create something indelible and true within very narrow parameters. It's inspiring, as all the best books are.

[Update: here's a NY Times article on Stewart O'Nan and the backstory on the book.]

[Catching up on my Best of 09 posts, after a weekend out of town with -- gasp! -- no internet access.]

[Currently reading: Still on Let the Great World Spin, by Collum McCann. This book will get its own post later.]

Best of 09, Day 3: Best Article

2009-12-03T12:25:00.003-05:00

Before I go any further with this year in review, I should give credit where credit is due. I didn't think this up myself.

Not that anyone's reading, but I should let any readers know that these blog posts are part of a larger project spearheaded by the very interesting (and I mean that in the best way possible!) Gwen Bell. I'm still kind of not sure what she does (even though there's a statement on her website about exactly what she does) or how this fits in. But I think it's pretty nifty, and I appreciate having a structure for some writing, and a way to look back on a really busy year. It's not too late to join in yourself.

--------------------------

One of the many pleasures of my "new life" is that I now have time to read again, for real. Reading the New Yorker cover to cover used to be the only saving grace of an otherwise soul-sucking bus-and-subway commute. When I started driving to and from work, I lost that reading time. I also lost my "reading in bed before going to sleep" time, since we shared our bedroom with a little baby who went down around 7pm but heard every single noise in the room, even the turning pages of a book.

In the six months we've been in our new place, I have read several novels, a book on mindful parenting, a book on new urbanism, and almost every issue of the New Yorker, plus a bunch of other magazines. Ohhhhhhh, what a gift. Hi again, reading. I've missed you.

One article that really stuck with me this year is this New Yorker piece on a man put to death in Texas. Cameron Todd Willingham was convicted of setting a fire that killed his three daughters. The fire happened in 1991 and he was executed in 2004. The author, David Grann, makes a persuasive case that Willingham was innocent. It's a long read, and emotionally difficult, but well worth it. The idea that someone is imprisoned for years for a crime they didn't commit is terrible, but the idea that an innocent person could be put to death -- the permanent punishment -- literally kept me awake at night.

Best of 09, Day Two: Best Restaurant Moment

2009-12-02T09:07:00.003-05:00

I was lucky enough to eat in some amazing restaurants this year (Blue Hill and Tru among them), but the best restaurant moment was -- of course -- about the people, the surroundings, and the feeling.

I was in Chicago with my mom, my mom's best friend, and the best friend's daughter for our annual girls' weekend. I had just moved to Louisville from NYC and was feeling seriously disoriented -- I'd left the job I had held for 9 years, I was back living in the place where I grew up, and I was away from my daughter for the first time since she was born. Mom's friend (MG) and her daughter (M) had gone to see a psychic who lived in a slightly dodgy area. Mom and I decided to skip the psychic and we just hung out for the morning and planned to meet them for lunch. A Chicago friend of mine (T) suggested La Scarola, an unassuming Italian place near the psychic's apartment.

My mom and I walked from our hotel, about an hour, and we talked. We spend a lot more time together than we used to, since we live closer, but a lot of our time is spent talking about the baby, scheduling, when are you going to the thing, what are you doing tomorrow. We don't get much time to just talk. We found the restaurant and waited for T to show up.

The restaurant is small with red checkered oilcloth covering the tables, candles in the chianti bottles, the whole typical Italian-American thing. The walls are covered with headshots of presumably famous people, signed with huge loopy thank-yous to the restaurant. Mom, T and I got a table near the front and settled in. We went ahead and ordered while we waited for M and MG to finish with the psychic.

I asked T, "So, what's new?" Turned out he had just quit his job. Like, 15 minutes ago. He had walked out of the meeting with his boss and got in a cab. T was doing the same kind of work I used to do, and he had been at the same place for nearly 10 years. He and his wife had decided to move cross-country, where his wife had a better job opportunity, to a quieter and slower life where they could spend more time with their son. Everything T said about why he had made this decision resonated with me -- very parallel situation.

T seemed a little dazed and surprised that he had actually gone through with it. He had told his boss but still had yet to tell the people who worked with him. We drank wine and I was able to reassure him that he had made the right decision -- at least, the very similar decision I had made had been right for me.

The food was classically delicious, the place was nearly deserted, M and MG eventually showed up, and we all lingered for a couple of hours over our plates and our stories. What made this the best restaurant moment was the feeling of spaciousness and leisure we had to talk about the important things in life. I go to restaurants to eat, of course, and I'm pretty selective and critical about food -- but really, I think I go to restaurants with people I love to have the time and the space to just enjoy being together.

Best of '09: Best Trip

2009-12-01T12:28:00.002-05:00

2009 was not much for traveling for me, unless you count the trips back and forth to Louisville while we worked on making our move. Then at the end of June we took *the* big trip -- packing up our apartment and saying a sad goodbye to our adopted hometown, New York City. Since then, I also spent a "girls weekend" in Chicago and all three of us visited New York for a long weekend.

I have one memorable evening "trip" to share -- A. and I went to Blooming Hill Farm for one of their farm dinners. They invite a chef from one of the restaurants they supply to come to the farm and cook a vegetarian meal with whatever is fresh and ready. We went with two friends and had an amazing evening -- sitting outside in the waning sunshine, drinking some cheap wine we brought along, listening to Blooming Hill proprietor Guy Jones waxing philosophical about food, farming and sex, and later, zoning out in front of the fire when it got cool. It's a 2-hour drive from the city but feels a million miles away.

For 2010, I would like to travel more (but I say that every year). Having a little one makes traveling more challenging, to be sure, but here's hoping we can do a few NYC trips, and maybe a vacation to somewhere warm.

[Currently reading: Let The Great World Spin by Colum McCann. Amazing, amazing, amazing.]

day 2 - writing exercise

2009-11-13T13:59:00.003-05:00

Think of senses other than visual to describe these objects:

a yellow coat: nubbly, fragrant with mothballs
a tall building: smooth, cold
a white wall: pockmarked, cool in the sun
a brick house: silent, rough
a dachshund: silky, wiggly
a roast turkey: redolent, crispy
an orchid: faintly sweet, lightly furry
a green chair: squishy, crackled
a table: wood-grained, uneven and shifting
a paper clip: tangy, sharp
a tray of cookies: aromatic, steaming
a black cocktail dress: swishy, smelling of perfume
a red box: nubbly leather grain, promising
a piano: smooth, loud
a tuba: cold, heavy
a baby: wriggling, laughing
an egg: cold, light
the flag: beaming, slick
a zebra: panting, alive

Writing exercise - day 1

2009-11-12T14:41:00.002-05:00

**Today begins a series of daily five-minute writing exercises. They're all coming from here. There's a new exercise for every day. I love this idea, and I can always find five minutes. Resistance is futile, excuses are worthless.**

A list of things that reflect light on a day at the beach:
Sunglasses
Beer bottles
Sparkles in the sand
Waves
Pieces of glass in the water
A brightly colored plastic bucket

Moving shadows on a day at the beach:
Kids running
Seagulls gliding
Someone shaking out a towel
A crab scuttling sideways
Kids building a sandcastle
Sand being blown into the air
A ball being bounced over a volleyball net
Old ladies speed-walking
Old ladies shell-hunting
A pair of dogs chasing each other down the beach

Things that reflect light at a shopping mall parking lot:
Windshields and hoods of cars
Sunglasses on people walking in and out
Plastic bags wrapped around hanging clothes
Radio antennae on cars bouncing in the breeze
Mall cop on a Segway - the hood of the Segway shines

Moving shadows at a shopping mall parking lot:
People walking to their cars
People getting into the cars
Cars themselves
(ugh, this one is tough)

Things that reflect light in a suburban backyard:
Grill
Hummingbird feeder
Kids swingset -- the chains on the swings and the metal slide (this must be old-school suburban)
Plastic cup left under the tree
Chain-link fence
Plastic lounge chair
Inflatable pool toys, lounges

Moving shadows in a suburban backyard:
Leaves blowing in the breeze
The dog running

Sit down

2009-11-08T14:13:00.003-05:00

It's time to get back to sitting, to deliberate and formal practice on a daily basis. Whenever my life feels chaotic or overwhelming, and I start to notice I'm coming apart at the seams, I think, "I should start sitting again." Sitting meditation is always the basic "reboot" for me, but I so rarely actually do it. I know that it's the best way to calm my thoughts, to make them seem a little less real and solid, and to help me see more clearly. Lately I've been having so much anxiety day and night -- I'm not sleeping well, I'm clenching my jaw and hunching my shoulders, I'm having visions of my loved ones dying. I don't understand these feelings, because my life seems like it should be pretty good, but there they are.

Sitting meditation is the best therapy I've ever had.

Better than talking to my therapist: she's wonderful and smart and I like her, but somehow I feel like my sessions with her are just circling around the same issues and just more ego-indulgence. (Plus, she costs $175 an hour. Ouch.)

Better than medication: I've never been on any kind of psychiatric medication, although I've wished for it. Nobody else ever seemed to think it was really necessary for me. I can only imagine the distress of people who are on medication, because things seem pretty crazy inside my head sometimes. But sitting does the same thing for me, I think -- helps the crazy quiet down a bit so I can relax and actually enjoy my situation.

Better than exercise: although just barely. Physical exercise is my mood lifter, my Prozac. Taking a pill would be easier because sometimes I really have to kick my own ass to get to the gym or the yoga class, but exercise does so many good things for me. Meditation, though, is time spent directly with my mind.

Things are a little slower in my life now that we've moved and I'm not working at a regular job. So, here's my pledge, in public (as much as a blog that nobody reads can be public): every day this week, while Maya naps, I will do 15 minutes of sitting meditation. That's doable, that's simple, and that's the best thing I can do to start chipping away at this tension.

[Currently reading: Cat's Eye by Margaret Atwood. I've never read any of her books before, and I heard her on the radio the other day so I thought it was time. So far, the book is about how little girls are incredibly mean to each other. It's not really helping my anxiety, because I remember that time very clearly. But the words are amazing, the detail, the sense of memory.]

(Make mine an) Old-Fashioned

2009-05-01T14:22:00.002-04:00

I'm beginning to think I'm an old-fashioned mom. I didn't decide to be old-fashioned, but that's how it's happening. By old-fashioned, I mean that there are clear boundaries between parent and child, and the parent is definitely the boss. I adore my daughter and I want her to have a wonderful life, but I don't believe that includes getting everything she wants. It's not fun to hear a baby cry and complain, but naps are necessary and she's so much nicer when she's well-rested.

That naptime (and early bedtime) is also crucial to my healthy existence. I also believe that parents (i.e., the grownups) deserve to have some time to themselves which is not all about the children. We put our daughter to bed around 7pm at the latest, and then the evening is hours. I don't believe in toting the kid with us everywhere -- unless we can get to dinner at 5:30 (when she's not overtired) we don't take her out late. Mommy and Daddy are happy to hire a babysitter sometimes.

I love this book, The Three-Martini Playdate, for its sardonic wit and real wisdom. Here's a recent quote from the author, Christie Mellor:

There used to be a little mystery about growing up. Children would hear the adults in the next room having adult conversations and listening to their music, perhaps Mom having a glass of wine with Dad after a long day at work. There was a magical world of grown-up activities, to which children were allowed a glimpse, but not a standing invitation.

I remember falling asleep in my bedroom (or the guest room at my parents' friends' house) to the soft murmur of my parents laughing and playing cards with their friends. While it's kind of a shock to realize that I'm the grownup now, I think it's a good thing for my daughter to have that experience of listening from the next room too.

This whole "old-fashioned" idea is not just about my comfort, not just about me wanting to preserve the parts of my life that existed before becoming a parent. (Although that's surely part of it.) I really think it's the best thing for the children too. I remember friends in high school whose parents were either a) so hands-off that there was no supervision or b) so desperate for their children's affection that they would try to be the coolest friend their kid had. Both of those scenarios create a kid who has to grow up too fast, because their parents aren't taking a parental role.

I'm not much for drinking martinis, though, so I'll have to teach my daughter to make a gin & tonic, when she gets the motor skills.

[Currently reading: just finished Stewart O'Nan's Last Night at the Lobster, a short and brilliant read. Anybody who's ever worked in a chain restaurant has to get this one. Just starting Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi.]

The Mom Cut, part 2

2009-03-29T13:23:00.004-04:00

If I could look this good with a shaved head, I might just do it. I still haven't bowed to "the mom cut" and I don't plan to, but I understand more and more why women do it. Yes, short hair is easier to take care of, but I think the real reason is this: injuries.

My hair is just past my shoulders, and there's nothing my daughter loves more than to grab a chunk of it and pull it towards her mouth, regardless of the distance between her mouth and my head. If I resist, she'll just take a few hairs with her.

I never realized how much having a baby hurts -- not the delivery (although yeah, it does, but there are drugs to help) -- but just being around a little person with lots of curiosity and poor motor skills. She pounces on my thigh and sinks her two tiny teeth into it. She head-butts me with a grin on her face. She coos and claws at my nose, or grips my lower lip and pulls straight down. It's all affection, wanting to be close, wanting to check me out and stick her index finger right into my eyeball. She chortles, clueless, as Mama clutches her face in pain.

It's hard to learn to teach her, at this age, what's inappropriate and what's not. For most of her life, she asks and we supply: food, warmth, hugs. Now we're entering the phase where she wants some things she can't have (electric outlets, Mama's coffee, any and all remote controls) and we have to tell her "no" in a way she can understand. Today I was laughing because she wanted to put her mouth on the table at the diner, and she was so intent, so insistent. She kept leaning towards it, mouth and eyes wide, hands reaching to grasp the edge, and we kept scooting her highchair a little further away. She would see she was too far away, close her mouth, regroup and dive forward again. My husband was being firm with her, and I was hiding my face because I was giggling at her dogged persistence.

I refuse to raise a spoiled child with no limits. I do not intend to think that every bit of mayhem she creates is "cute." I'm not going to be one of those people who lets their child destroy things and make excuses for her behavior. She is going to understand appropriate and inappropriate, but I want to teach her without tamping down that spirit of exploration and that wonderful belief she has at this age that she can do whatever she sets her mind to. At this point it's a combination of self-control and physical dexterity, and we just have to wait for her brain to catch up. In the meantime, I'm putting an arm out, to keep that little cranium from smashing into mine when she tumbles over.

[Currently reading: Lush Life by Richard Price. Captures the Lower East Side perfectly, and I love the rhythms of his writing.]

The Template

2009-02-21T09:32:00.006-05:00

I read an interesting article this week about living without a template. There are lots of people who write on the web about personal development and productivity, and a lot of the writing just seems to be the same thing over and over, but this particular article got to me. You can read it yourself, but I'll give you the gist: we grow up with an idea of templates for our life, the stages that we're supposed to go through and the way to achieve security, which is supposed to lead to happiness. This writer encourages discarding those templates and putting your life together in whatever way feels right.

This really spoke to me at this moment in my life. I've started a new role as a mother, and my previous focus on my career has lessened somewhat. I used to define myself by the success I had in my career -- or the lack of success, as I saw it, which often made me depressed. I was looking at the template which said I should be working hard in my 20s and kicking professional ass, getting to a certain place in my field and garnering respect from my colleagues. I needed to really scramble to do this before having kids, because once you have children, you don't have time to work so hard, and you won't grow in your career and you'll be just a mom.

I was nervous about going back to work after my daughter was born, but it was something I felt like I needed to do -- not just financially, although that was a big part of it -- because I didn't want to lose my place in line, so to speak. I didn't want to lose my edge (what little edge I had). If I didn't continue to grow professionally, and specifically in the field that I've been working in for the last 8 years, I would be a failure.

I'm starting to see things in more broad terms now, and I kind of can't believe I haven't been able to see this before. My job is only part of who I am. I'm thinking of making some changes in my life, and I know that no matter where I'm working and what kind of work I'm doing, my value comes from the entirety of my life, not just one part of it.

I don't mean to say that I'm going to abandon work for full-time motherhood. That would be just falling into another template. I'm not sure exactly what is ahead for me, but a vision is emerging -- a vision that includes work and motherhood and creativity and family and art, not just "job" and "home." I'm ready to break out of the frame and create a new way.

(Photo from lsphotos on Flickr.)

[Currently reading: Moose by Stephanie Klein. A memoir of fat camp. I can totally relate to this woman, although I never went to fat camp. She's a decent writer, with some good turns of phrase, and alllll respect to her astonishing honesty, but I find the book inspiring mostly for its flaws -- because I know I could do just as well, or even better.]

Pump it up!

2008-11-08T14:40:00.002-05:00

Twice a day at work, I ask my officemate to leave, I lock the door, and I lift my shirt up. I put these little plastic things over my boobs and turn on the suction. Yep, I'm pumpin', and I hate it.

Nursing a baby is the most natural thing in the world. It feels normal, it feels right, it's easy (once you get the hang of it) and I love the sweetness and the shared experience. When she's done eating, my daughter twists her head back so she can look at me and smile. Pumping breastmilk is mechanical, it's cold, the machine makes this really annoying whooshing sound, and I feel like a machine myself. Nobody smiles at me when it's over. But it's what I have to do to keep her on breastmilk now that I'm back to work, so I do it.

It's funny, though, that pumping is such a psychological thing -- I've found if I think too much about it, or worry that I'm not getting enough, I don't get enough. I looked around for some suggestions on how to improve things and one website suggested reading a book while pumping. And here, my friends, is the beautiful thing that I have discovered: pumping means I get to read again!

I haven't read much, especially not fiction, since my daughter was born. It's hard to hold or nurse a baby with a book in your hand, so I watched a lot of TV while she was sleeping in my lap. I've been too tired to read before bed, and I'm not taking the bus to work anymore so I lost that reading time. I'm trying in vain to keep up with the pile of New Yorkers on my hall table.

But three days a week for the last month, I have to shut the world out for 15-20 minutes, and that's where I get to read. My parents bought me a Kindle for my birthday, so I put it on my desk while I'm pumping and get lost in a good book, and I find that it's really a wonderful break from the day. It's the only time I get to read, so I look forward to it, I relax, and the pumping goes much better too. I read Netherland by Joseph O'Neill, and now I'm reading Saturday by Ian McEwan. (Does anybody else think it's just like Mrs. Dalloway?)

So, silver linings. Hate the not-sleeping, love the nursing. Hate the crying, love the laughing. Hate the pumping, love the reading. It's all part of the whole, it all comes together in a package deal, and it's all my life at the moment.

[Currently reading: Saturday. As mentioned. Weren't you paying attention? (Now I feel like I should take a moment to write a long disquisition on something that happened to me as a child and the feelings it brought up and the musings that it engenders at this moment and something eminently quotable about The Way We Live Now and then tie it back to a non-plot that is somehow totally riveting. But that wouldn't be very original.)]

Wow, wow, wow

2008-11-04T10:35:00.003-05:00

What would my grandparents think of today? I wore those Martin Luther King Jr. earrings with my "Jesse for President" t-shirt just to piss them off, and today I cast my vote for an African-American for President. And I think a lot of other people are doing the same thing.

Maybe I'm just cossetted here in my little northeast liberal bubble, but I barely know anybody who's going to vote for McCain. Well, a couple of people, but I think they're crazy.

The champagne is chilling, and I'm trying to chill too. I'm pretty excited, pretty nervous. Can't really bring myself to hope just yet, even though all the signs look promising. I remember waking up 4 years ago to the news that Bush was re-elected, and I sobbed into my pillow. I have even more at stake during this election: a little girl who is going to have to live in the world we create. Here's hoping that we can turn things around for her and all the other children in the world.

[Currently reading: Saturday by Ian McEwan. Like Mrs. Dalloway but even more detailed and insular, if that's possible.]

Erasmus B. Dragon

2008-10-13T13:56:00.003-04:00

I don't wear heels to work, and my daughter can't sit up yet like this baby can, but otherwise, this is me three days a week. I know, I know -- leaving my daughter three days a week is easier than doing it five days a week. I have a really good situation overall: I have a super-flexible workplace, I have a job that I (mostly) enjoy but which doesn't totally tap me out, and I have a good friend who I love and trust taking care of my child on the days I'm away. But still... it's pretty darn tough.

I went back to work this past week, and I was dreading it all weekend. Some part of me had hoped that I wouldn't go back at all, but financial imperatives made it necessary. To be honest, I was also starting to go a bit stir-crazy here at home with a baby. It's been a wonderful break and I've loved every minute (although the minutes with poop on the wall were just a little less fun) but it was time to remember the person I was before becoming a mother. So even though I was glad to have a reason to return to the adult world, the idea of leaving my little girl with someone else for 9 hours at a stretch was incredibly difficult.

The first day, I cried as I walked to the parking garage to get my car. I called my mother and asked her to remind me why this was okay. I cried on the way to work, and I cried in the bathroom once I got there. I shut my office door to pump and I cried some more. It was just so strange being away from my baby. My sitter sent me text message updates and pictures on my cell phone, though, so I knew what she was doing, and the day passed quickly and I couldn't get home fast enough to see her.

The next day was easier, and the third day was even easier. She's so young that she doesn't really realize I'm leaving, and she seems happy when I get home. But the balance thing is proving to be really tough. The first two days I was away, my daughter completely upended her schedule and wanted to nurse all evening and all night. I've heard this can happen -- babies want that time with their mom and will get it any way they can. I got almost no sleep those first two nights, and went to work in a bit of a fog. It felt like newborn days all over again, except now I have to shower and dress and function in the world. I was grateful for two days working from home, where the pace is different and I had time to recover.

Another week is starting, which will certainly be busier than last week. Yet I realize how fortunate I am and how much harder it could be. I don't know how other people do it. This working mom thing is not for sissies.

(The Head of the Car Talk Working Mothers Support Group is Erasmus B. Dragon, if you were wondering. And yes, mine sure is.)

[Currently reading: NY Times, if I can get through one section. What should be my next novel? Ideas, anyone?]

Okay, then...

2008-09-20T07:35:00.000-04:00

We've got a two-month reprieve.

Who am I?

2008-09-19T06:20:00.003-04:00

Since the world hasn't ended yet (see previous post) I guess I should go ahead and get a haircut. I'm at that stage again where all I do is put my hair up in a little loose bun, no matter whether it's clean or dirty, because I hate the way it looks when it's down. My hairdresser has been giving me the same old boring cut for a while, and now that the boring cut is overgrown, I just want to pull it all back. I think it's time to part ways with her and find someone new, and maybe it's time for a change in my look. But there's a very real fear here: the soccer mom cut.

Lots of new mothers get their hair all chopped off when they realize they have a lot less time to deal with it, and I can certainly relate to that. But I am strenuously resisting the temptation to totally disregard my appearance these days. I don't want to fall into that sweat-pant-wearing trap, so I make an effort to put on a little makeup, put on some nice earrings, put on a cute top. Yet the hair remains a problem.

But I'm terrified that if I go to a new hairdresser and mention that I'm a new mom, I'll get the (soccer) mom cut. "Cute," totally asexual, with little pieces that flip out near the bottom. The kind of thing that other women like and men hate. My husband loves me with long hair, and I don't mind keeping it long, but I definitely need a little more definition than I currently have, or else it goes in the boring bun every damn day. But I'd sooner shave my head than get the mom cut, so I have to tread carefully.

Hair is just one symptom of my current identity crisis, especially as I'm considering my return to work. Most of my day now is defined by being someone's mama, and that's totally new to me. Other people see me how they've always seen me: co-worker, neighbor, singer, friend. Mama gets added on top as a kind of overlay -- or maybe it's a foundation. I want a physical appearance that works for Mama, but still leaves room for those other roles I play. Because sometimes Mama's got to get out.

[Currently reading: my new Kindle! The possibilities are endless and a bit dizzying, that I could instantly get one of 170,000 books and store them on this tiny little portable unit. And trying to catch up on New Yorker.]

The end of the world begins...tomorrow?

2008-09-09T14:19:00.003-04:00

This is a picture of the Compact Muon Solenoid, one of the particle detectors that makes up the Large Hadron Collider. I don't really know what that means, except that the LHC is a huge piece of equipment for doing physics experiments, and some people think it could mean (cue booming echo-y movie voice) the end of the world.

There was a great article about the LHC in the New Yorker a few months back, and now that it's about to actually start working tomorrow, it's in the news again. As best I understand, the LHC was built to move tiny particles very fast and smash them together to see what happens. It's mostly underground in Switzerland, and the pictures are all really cool. (NY Times article here.) It will provide physicists with a way to test things that they have only theorized about, and there's a small chance -- depending on who you talk to -- that it could create microscopic black holes. Which would be bad, because I think the entire planet could get sucked in.

So tomorrow they fire this puppy up, and it'll take a few weeks to really get going, and then... who knows? Will we feel it if a black hole gets created? How soon will we know? What will it be like? Would we all just blink out of existence? Is there any way to be sure it hasn't already happened?

I'm joking a little, but really just a little. I don't know much about quantum physics but I do know that things can get really weird when you start smashing atoms. All the news media are covering this "end of the world" angle because it's more interesting (and easier to explain) than talking about the particle that scientists are hoping to find, and what it would mean if they find it. How ironic would that be if our investigation into the universe somehow causes its demise?

So, as ever, how do I live for today without being in a panic? Because tomorrow, a teeny-tiny black hole in Switzerland could end it all.

[Currently reading: the profile of Alec Baldwin in the New Yorker was a gorgeous example of the art form. ]

The balance is shifting

2008-08-24T07:17:00.004-04:00

So many people told me, "Having a baby changes everything." Everything? Really?

Huh.

I'm sitting here trying to think of one thing that hasn't changed, and I'm coming up short. Even my shoe size is different. I'm learning so much every single day, I don't recognize myself from a couple of months ago.

And now money comes into play, as it always does. We live in one of the most expensive cities in the world, and there is an oversaturation of people in my husband's profession, so he doesn't make as much money here as he could elsewhere. This leaves us with a funny calculus: stay here where we make less and spend more, or move somewhere else where we make more and spend less. On the surface, it's kind of a no-brainer... but, like everything else, it's complicated.

I've written here before about my ambivalence towards New York City. Despite the hassles, it's gorgeous and noisy and bright and energetic and always different and open -- and it's the place I always dreamed of living. I always thought that NYC is amazing because you can do anything you want, you can be anything you want. There's no small-town judginess going on here, and there's a place for everyone. There are tiny surprises literally around every corner (the other night, we walked past a robot store -- sold nothin' but robots and robot accessories) and I'm constantly thrilled to be part of it all.

Except I'm not really part of it all. My dream of working in New York City hasn't really been realized -- at least not in the way I envisioned it -- because as long as I've been here, I've worked in the Bronx, in a seriously depressed neighborhood with garbage in the streets, people screaming into cell phones on the overcrowded bus, and total civic dysfunction every day. When the rest of the world gets on a subway and joins that great crush of people going "downtown," I'm on an empty train heading north against the current. Once I get to my office, I don't leave for lunch because there's practically no place to go. I don't feel the vibrancy of NYC because I feel like I could just be working in the worst office park in the world.

And now we're doing the math, trying to see if it makes sense for us to stay here financially. Wait -- I should be honest: I already know it doesn't make sense financially. That's very clear. We just have to decide if it makes sense emotionally. I'm already feeling my attraction to New York slip away, because I'm not willing to pay the high price to be here. It just doesn't feel worth it anymore. If we leave, the one great regret I'll carry is this: I never really got to have that "working in Manhattan" experience.

Oh well... gotta leave something for my next life.

[Currently reading: eh, whatever. Still on Half of a Yellow Sun and probably will be for a while. Loving it so far -- really wanting to go back to Africa, so I settle for reading about it.]