Boston

For the past six years Fred has run the Boston Marathon.  The journey and the event were a high point of the year for us.  For Fred, there was the challenge of maintaining the physical, mental, and spiritual strength to complete this difficult course.  My own battle was to overcome anxiety as I waited for him to finish.  But there were joys too.  Meeting new people.  Enjoying four whole days together away from work.  The excitement of exploring this beautiful city.  The Duck Tours.  Lunch at California Pizza. 

As I look at the images of the explosions and their aftermath and think about these horrific events, I am truly saddened.  The joy in the crowd was one of the highlights of the event for me; and it's been darkened by this terrible act.  I keep praying for those injured and those who helped.  And I struggle to pray for whomever was angry enough to commit this atrocity.

Belly Up to the Bar

Belly up, belly up to the bar boys
Let your money be seen
Only drink by day or night
Or somewheres in between

 

The Unsinkable Molly Brown

 

Don't ask me why.  My mind just wanders into strange places while I'm looking at mundane sights.  Lately this song streams through my head as I watch the finches at the bird feeder.  The occasional female finch manages to light and grab a bite.  Titmice and chickadees flit in and out.  But usually what I see are male gold finches and house finches camped around the feeder, while several of their brethren wait for a free seat.  Frankly, they are eating us out of house and home. 

 

Perhaps it's the long, cold spring, or maybe the word of our year-round feeder has just spread through the avian masses.  Whatever the reason, I'm buying 20 pounds of feed a week.  So there's the cash outlay - and then there are the bar fights.  Our own little birdie entertainment system.  Everything that's worthwhile comes at a cost.

 

 

 

 

 



The Zen of Knitting

It's a beautiful thing - rosewood needles looping a new row of yarn through the previous one.  Making slip-knots, really, and watching them grow into a shawl, or a sock, or a sweater.  Creating the open spaces of lace knitting to produce an airy scarf.  Knitting around and around in a circle, creating a strawberry or Lorax to warm the head of a toddler.

Meditation with needles and yarn.  String art. A quiet spirit.  A gift.

Domestic Warfare

Drama - one of the least appealing aspects of teaching middle and high school.  When I retired, it was the part of the job I missed least.  It's hard to lament the loss of dealing with who stole who's boyfriend, mean girls, wedgies in the guy's locker room; not that I mean to downplay the importance of these issues to 13-year-olds.  It's just that the mediation had become exhausting.  Anyone who's taught will understand.  Multiply your family drama times about 300 and you've got it.

However, yesterday I encountered drama in my own back yard - literally.  The noise of the battle was what first drew me to the window.  Inside the ring of bricks surrounding the birdfeeder, a squirrel was stuffing his face with the seeds that littered the ground, and simultaneously declaring his displeasure.  Surrounding him were three crows, voicing their own dismay in a language that sounded like a cross between a caw and a whimper (you'll just have to imagine it - that's the best I can do).  The scene was reminiscent of old westerns, with the cavalry huddled inside the fort, surrounded by marauding Indians looking for a point of weakness.  One crow was digging in the dirt with his beak - perhaps sharpening his weapon, or maybe just trying to look busy and keep a low profile.  The other two paced back and forth, a couple of strategizing generals.

Their battle plan evaporated in a flurry of gray; the squirrel had launched a pre-emptive strike and the crows retreated, screeching in outrage and losing all pretense of dignity, while their attacker turned and withdrew to his fort.  Each bird responded differently to this indignity; one continued to dig nervously with his beak, one paced around the feeder - apparently deep in thought - while the third took the offensive.  He flew at his opponent, fluttering and pecking, only to lose his courage as the squirrel turned and jumped at him, chattering in outrage. 

This was no epic battle; it only lasted about ten minutes and it ended in a draw.  Ultimately, no lives were lost and there were no clear winners or losers.  Unless you count me.  I gained a good laugh and a renewed appreciation for drama.

Back to the Start

Several years ago I got into really good shape.  I was running 3 miles per day (although I'll grant that I wasn't setting any land-speed records) and my weight was actually where it should be.  And then I got comfortable; the weight began to creep up, and I bought new clothes. I kept walking every day and sort of lulled myself into believing the spread was just a normal part of the process for women moving on past middle age.

But there comes a time when one must admit that "normal" isn't a good enough excuse.  So after researching ideas and giving the idea a whole lot of thought, I decided to try Apple's "Couch to 5K" program, a method designed to help out-of-shape folks progress from strolling to running three miles over a nine-week period.

Today was day one.  The program for week one calls for three sessions, each including a 5-minute walk, followed by alternating 60-second runs and 90-second walks and a 5-minute cool-down walk.  It was harder than I thought it would be, and also easier than I feared.  It felt great to actually break a sweat, to have followed my little iPhone coach's instructions, to stretch out afterward.  I look forward to keeping it up.

However, right now I'm just hoping the Aleve kicks in soon.

Being Right and Social Media

 

Being right in the sense I'm using the word isn't a political stance.  It's an insistence on the correctness of one's personal opinions.  If you had full access to my Facebook account, you'd find that I have friends from all parts of the opinion spectrum.  But you'd also find that when any of us posts an opinion, the respondents all "Like" or affirm those opinions.  Those who disagree just stay on the sidelines. In all honesty, I must include myself among the sideline sitters.  Seldom is there real dialogue aimed at understanding each other.

 

An exception occurred in my little corner of  the Facebook world a few days ago when I had a true discussion - an exchange of ideas - with a former student who generally expresses opinions much more conservative than mine.  Frankly, I'd always thought this young man probably belonged to the Tea Party movement, and I'd probably still think so if we'd not stopped expressing our own views and asked questions about and listened to each other's judgments.  We discovered that - at least on the issue of gun control - our ideas are much more similar than either of us had thought.  We don't fully agree, but we found areas of understanding and respect.

 

Which leads me to consider a little saying in a tiny frame that sits on my desk:  "Listen without defending.  Speak without offending."  Which leads further to the realization that I can't change how others interact; but I can work on my own attention to remembering this phrase.  This may be a baby step - but I think it's a step in the right direction.

Gift Wrapped

'Twas the week before Christmas and our great-grandson got - the flu!  No fun for sure.  But it was truly a gift of sorts.  Monday he spent the day with us and was liberal in handing out hugs.  What's better than those intentional, snuggly, heart-felt hugs from a two-year-old?  At the end of the day I needed aspirin for the achy muscles and I think I went to bed at 8:00.  And I wouldn't have traded even a minute of the day.  So very grateful for the sweetness and purity of baby love.  I pray that the day comes when we may all love each other as wholly and sweetly.  And how perfect to have experienced it as we wait for the celebration of the coming of Love in the world once again.