Category Archives: Good for Me

in which we give in to the faux bengal, and I mediate.

03.2015 emmett leash

Emmett is the cat who, whenever anyone gets near the front door, immediately rushes over and begins singing the song of his people, demanding to be LET OUT. He bum rushes whenever the door is even slightly cracked and jumps on people coming in and has slipped past our security protocols more than once. The big wide world is fascinating to him and I always feel slightly sad that our belief systems diverge so dramatically on this point – I don’t let my cats out. It is too dangerous out there for them, and for the songbird populations. But I can’t imagine living an entire life inside the same house. Emmett is smart and easily bored and so Miss L and I determined that a compromise could be reached.

We procured him a tiny harness and leash (note the skull and crossbones). And despite the cold weather lately, Emmett has been learning how to navigate with us.

2015.03 emmett leash 2

We don’t stray far, sticking close to the house.

Emmett has adjusted quickly, but he still doesn’t like cold wet paws, or walking on ice. And he doesn’t walk like a dog would walk – he basically roams and explores and sniffs a lot and we just hold the leash and ensure that he stays out of trouble. One of Miss L’s lunch ladies apparently drove by and saw us out walking the cat, and it spread around her lunchroom pretty quickly. The neighbors are completely nonplussed and we get some pretty strange looks when we are out with him.

It doesn’t bother us.

**

In other news, I completed my 40 hours of court approved general civil mediation training yesterday. I was the only non-lawyer in the class of 30 (except for a handful of University of Michigan 3Ls) and  one of my classmates was a circuit court judge. Most everyone had either attended a mediation or an arbitration, and in many cases, had actually conducted them. I worked really hard to keep up, and prepped hard for all of the role plays. I typically detest role playing in a training class but these were exceptionally good and everyone took their role playing very seriously (one of my classmates even wept when she took on the role of a plaintiff in a med mal case who had lost her leg in a botched surgery). My classmates were wonderful and I had a couple of proud moments – the first when one of my classmates announced to the assembled class, “She just proved to me that you don’t need to be a lawyer to be good at this!” and one during my final exam mediation when the well-respected personal injury attorney who was observing me said, “I KNOW this isn’t your first mediation!” (It was.)

One of the 3L’s messed me up during my final exam mediation and I wasn’t happy about it, because we all tried to support each other and help each other succeed in front of the outside coaches and observers, on that last critical day. But I tried to gamely fight through it and ended up mediating the dispute to an inelegant settlement, which was vastly more than I’d hoped for.

I am now at the stage in which, if I were going to pursue it, I would volunteer at a dispute resolution center and observe a mediation, then conduct a couple on my own. Once I complete those steps, I could be added to the court rosters of any Michigan county – you don’t have to be a lawyer to be a court rostered mediator in this state. I’m just not sure I want to take those steps. It’s a nice opportunity, if I pursued it gamely, but it’s also a huge responsibility. And on top of my full time paid job and Miss L, I’m not sure I have room for a third major commitment. But I haven’t finished noodling it.

**

Whenever I write that I am in ‘mediation’ training, in emails or on social media, someone invariably misreads it and thinks I am in ‘meditation’ training. Which is funny because I recently started meditating again, in short increments a few times a week. During the training, the topic of stress came up, and one of my classmates was put on the spot to discuss how he dealt with it. This particular classmate was pretty scruffy looking and when everyone else was in suits, he wore jeans and rumpled blazers and pilled sweaters. Yet he had an undeniable aura of calm, focus, and serenity – it literally radiated when he spoke. So when he said that he meditated, it honestly didn’t surprise me at all. I talked to him after the class and he said he’s been meditating for ten years and it has literally changed his life. He lost forty pounds and was able to stop taking a blood pressure medication based solely on the positive influence of meditation. He goes to a retreat or a seminar once a year, and meditates for thirty minutes a day, every day. And this is a litigator with a successful practice, a marriage, and five children. Clearly, if he can fit it in, I can, as well.

03.2015 meditation

Besides, I have the advantage of an excellent role model.

object lessons

I flew home last night and left a glorious Florida sunset behind.

01.2015 florida sunset

Before I left, I took another walk to try to absorb as much sunshine as I could, and added some birdwatching to the mix. It’s always fun for me to see different birds in different places, although I wore my iPhone battery down trying to Google ‘small brown bird with yellow butt’. It made for some dicey moments standing in line to have my boarding pass scanned at the gate (I use the Delta app on my phone and I kept wondering if anyone has ever had their phone die before they could have their electronic boarding pass scanned…this is the kind of thing that would happen to me.)

This white ibis was pretty easy to ID and he was a fine looking fellow. There were a couple of other wading birds that were more difficult, it’s hard for me to distinguish egrets from herons from cranes and it began to interfere with my attentiveness to the final bits of my seminar so I finally gave up.

01.2015 florida ibis

And of course there were the usual flocks of house sparrows, a brown plague that has taken over my own yard at home. But I couldn’t resist this picture – they were all sitting around the table at the Trattoria at the Disney Boardwalk looking expectant and vaguely European.

01.2015 florida sparrows

My seminar was quite large, almost 300 people, and when you attend these types of events, there are funny little behaviors that emerge. You find yourself sitting next to the same people every day, you quickly establish your cliques. People network and chat and swap business cards and I am wretched at all of this. I sit in the front row where no one else wants to sit and I try not to make eye contact with people. I don’t like small talk or chatting, it makes me nervous. I always forget my business cards and I tend to be focused on consuming as many of the free meals and snacks as possible in the shortest amount of time and then fleeing to somewhere quiet. (I also stockpile pens at these seminars. For some reason my pen jar at home tends to be filled with dry markers and useless highlighters and small screwdrivers and broken-tipped pencils, everything except pens that work. I found these Disney resort pens quite satisfactory.)

The sunshine and birdwatching opportunities made my lack of desire to network at breaks even more prominent, as did the fact that I started reading George R.R. Martin’s “A Feast for Crows” on my Kindle during the flight down. I’m so absorbed in this book that I want to read it straight through and I feel a little dazed when I look up from the pages. I spent many a break hiding in a sunny corner poring over the pages. To be sure, this makes me feel guilty. When my company sends me to a seminar, I’m on the clock, so I really shouldn’t be sneaking away, even on scheduled breaks, to read or play or absorb sunshine.

So when I pondered skipping the last day lunch and heading to the airport to try for an earlier flight, I thought better of it. I girded my loins and hit the buffet and found a new place to sit and before I quite knew what had happened, one of the panel speakers sat down next to me and then another and then two board members on the other side. The first panel speaker started talking to me and quickly we were laughing and he introduced me to the other speakers and board members. I felt like the new kid at school who suddenly finds herself at the cool kid table. I came away with a pack of business cards and promises of LinkedIn invitations and guidance on which chapter I should join, feeling stunned. I told myself sternly that this is an object lesson – 45 minutes at a lunch table and I made great contacts that my boss would appreciate. Those 45 minutes of somewhat painful socializing probably had greater benefit than the prior 2 days of seminar materials and skulking. I was proud of myself and so I had Pinkberry at the airport to reward myself.

It was about 18 F. in Detroit and the airport was full of tired commuters, ready to be home with their families. It was so nice to be home, cold notwithstanding, and Emmett & Sarge piled onto my lap on the couch while I ate pasta late at night and finished watching ‘Broadchurch’. (What do we think about mysteries that end with the killer being someone entirely unexpected? Do we feel impressed at their cleverness or do we feel a bit put out that we aren’t given the proper clues to solve it ourselves?)

And now, Winter Storm Linus. For fuck’s sake.

in which i try to cope with january.

01.2015 nsk sunrise

not sure if i took this picture because of the pretty sunrise, or to prove that it is possible for me to get to work before 8AM.

This post was originally going to start out with the emphatic statement, January fucking sucks but then I remembered that one of the things I am most proud of over the last year has been my vastly improved capability to see silver linings. So I will back off that statement and simply say, January is a very challenging month for me personally. Better?

I think January is tough because I feel so relaxed and reset after a nice break, I have all of this clarity of insight about things I can do to feel better about myself, everything feels like a clean slate – then I go back to work and am plunged back into the same hectic routine and nothing is clean, nothing is new, everything is still the same old mess it was before Christmas, and on top of it, the weather usually turns, making everything more difficult. More difficult to travel anywhere, even work; more difficult to get any sort of natural light or vitamin D when it is always dark and the wind chills are perilous; more difficult to muster the energy to work out, to eat right, to drink enough water. January is a dark, cold, long month where everything takes more effort for me and I am usually going through the motions feeling numb with exhaustion, no matter how much sleep I get. This week has seemed like the Longest Week Ever. We had a green Christmas but winter has hit with a vengeance and we had a snow squall and a day off from school for Miss L due to the extremely cold temperatures which still persist around here.

(Sidebar. I have to ask. How do children get educated in Alaska? Or the upper Midwest which I heard on NPR now wants to secede from the Midwest and create its own region called the ‘North’? It’s much colder in those places than in Michigan. Those kids must NEVER go to school if education is contingent upon Mother Nature. And you know, look. I am a teacher fan, I support teachers and am full of gratitude for the very difficult job they do. I could never do it myself. But my teacher friends on FB are downright obnoxious about snow days. Yes, I understand that everyone gets happy about having a day off. But to the rest of us who have to go to work no matter what the temperature outside, and additionally have to find child care for a child that has a snow day, often by spending one of our limited vacation days to do so, it can be a little annoying when you open up FB in the midst of one of these hectic mornings and see a bunch of teachers high-fiving themselves in jammies about not having to work.)

On the silver lining side, GB & I pulled together as usual and tag-teamed, and Miss L & I sought refuge with a special snow day lunch, as is one of our traditions.

01.2015 dessert

In other news, somewhat on the spur of the moment, I decided to try a Bikram yoga class. I love yoga and have wanted to work it back into my fitness routine for some time, but I’d always resisted this specific type of fitness based on the yuck factor of doing it in a hot studio full of other people’s fug, sweat, and germs. But one of the lawyers I work with said the studio in Northville is quite clean and so I gave it a try on Thursday night. It was the night of our snow squall, so there was something very Scandinavian about working out in a sweatbox, watching through humidity-streaked windows as the snow filtered down in drifts on the street outside. Then bursting outside into a dark, quiet street of blessed arctic cold. I resisted the urge to roll around in the fresh snow – that would likely be acceptable in Ann Arbor, but in Northville I believe it would likely be frowned upon, the zoning is much more strict there….Anyway, the class was really good, I made it through with only a few moments of seeing dark spots floating over my vision while thinking numbly ‘oh my Christ I’m going to vomit’. The instructor was a fair little waif with a head full of blonde dreadlocks who smiled angelically through the class and went on several gentle metaphysical tangents that I enjoyed through my pain. However, I was underhydrated going in and at 2AM, I woke up with a savage dehydration headache that didn’t abate until after lunchtime the following day. I told someone that I felt like I’d been pounding tequila all night and it took vast amounts of water & Gatorade to get me back to normal. My body felt great – very limber & stretched – but my head was a wreck. I will definitely go back, I just really have to address my hydration and try to figure that out.

January is a dry month for me so my normal soothing glass of red wine is out of the picture for awhile, which I haven’t missed at all, oddly. This made the Bikram hangover more bitter in some ways… as usual, Emmett, however, was sympathetic. He always encourages me to go back to bed whenever I need it. And that is a good friend to have in January.

01.2015 me & em

here now

Yesterday, as I limped down the street wearing too-high heels, my dress coat, carrying a workout bag, my purse, and my computer in my arms, I thought to myself, this is not how I imagined coming back when I left the house.

Some days are just like that. I once had a day in Australia where the normal highway I took to work was closed due to an accident, and I was poorly detoured through what felt like all of Melbourne, along with what felt like the rest of Melbourne. I was taken through clogged streets I’d never see again, made wrong turns, became hopelessly lost. I remember feeling so strongly that we live our lives in these little tracks, well-memorized and comfortable, and underneath us looms an entire abyss. One little crack in our world and down we go, to places that are always there, but which we rarely see. And maybe all the missing people just fell down a crack and couldn’t find their way back.

Yesterday, I was driving to work and I had the radio loud, and I was driving next to a big truck doing about 75. Oddly enough, I was thinking about the fact that I needed new tires. My dad had told me this about six months ago, but with the Disney trip, then Christmas to plan for, I just hadn’t budgeted for them. I was thinking that now I had some Christmas money and it would probably behoove me to…then I started thinking about something else, and noticed a sort of whupping helicopter noise, which I thought was the truck. I eased off on the gas and suddenly in my driver’s side mirror I saw smoke, a bit of rubber flying off, and the car began to fishtail and lose control.

Once I got the car over to the side of the highway, I smelled burnt rubber. My tire was just shredded – only a few bits of tread clinging. I sat for a moment amidst rising panic. Again, we travel our little tracks and then when you find yourself sitting on the side of the road, in a dust of snow and dead dry grass, cars whooshing by you at abominable speeds, you are lost. What do I do? Who do I call? I mentally flicked through the catalog of people I could possibly call and rejected all of them because honestly, I thought, there’s nothing they can really do to help. Sitting in my car, I Googled ‘what to do when you get a flat tire’ (really) and then clarity and calm started to come back. I knew my ex-husband had signed us up for Triple A a few years ago, but I didn’t have my card and I didn’t know if the membership was still active, or in his name, or what. I called them and they confirmed that the membership was still active. While I was talking to them, arranging for a tow, mentally wondering if my tire rim had been damaged, I saw blinking lights in my rearview and Employee 29 pulled up behind me in his MDOT van.

“You don’t just do things halfway, do ya,” he cheerfully bellowed over the highway noise. “Let’s get your spare! Cancel the tow – I’ll get you going!”

We unloaded my spare tire, my dress coat whipping in the cold wind, and I resisted the urge to hug him when he had it on the car and sent me on my way. Instead, I shook his hand fervently, smiling up into his wind-chapped face, and thanked him from the bottom of my heart.

01.2015 flat

The benefit of shopping local is that you might just have a Firestone within walking distance of your house, and they would very likely be able to scramble to fit you in to spend that Christmas money on a set of brand new, excellent tires for the car you plan on driving until it dies because you love it so.

And you may be able to drop your car off right then, with the spare still on, and walk home, and think about philosophical things like cracks in the world.

So here is why this boring story is important, and here is why it is more to me than a minor mechanical inconvenience / expense.

Somehow, I’ve changed. It was probably when I hit bottom a couple of summers ago, lost weight and hope, and decided to go on an antidepressant. Taking that pill every night is part of what changed me, but there was more, and now I am truly changed. The old me would not have been able to handle this situation. I would only have seen the negative. I would have panicked and cried, and called someone to come help me figure out what to do. I would have seen it as some sort of reinforcement that I’d fucked up, that I didn’t have control, that forces were aligned against me and it was better, safer not to be happy because that other shoe is waiting to drop.

The new me sees it differently. The new me sees how wonderful it felt in that moment, shaking hands with Employee 29 on a windy roadside, beaming. The new me sees the reminder that in scary moments there are things and people that can help, and most of all, that I am a good, smart, capable person who is worthy of being helped, and my scary moments are not a judgment or a punishment, they are a part of being human, part of life, and, in some cases, an opportunity. I don’t need to panic. I can feel the momentary fear and bewilderment, but now I can let it pass, and see the funny side, the ironic side, the options. I can accept help and express my gratitude to the people who help me, through telling them in simple terms how grateful I am and how much their aid means to me. And at the end of the day, I can sit in Firestone reading a library book waiting for my car to be done, watching traffic lights on the dark street outside, and feel so, so, so blessed that however I came to this place, however long it took me, I am here now.

“God gave us flaws, and something I learned – He doesn’t see them as flaws. There’s nothing wrong with the way He made us. The universe forgives all.” – True Detective

village

The big holiday push is (almost) over – mostly over because I am not a New Year’s Eve person and usually spend it in bed with wine and my Kindle.

Christmas week was busy but gratifying. I felt the extra responsibility to make sure that Miss L’s Christmas was fulfilling and joyful and that she didn’t feel any sadness or anxiety. I made sure she spent time with everyone she loves, including her dad. It meant a lot of driving and running around for not just me, but my extended family, too, and it brought to mind the old saying about taking a village to raise a child. Everyone in Miss L’s life helped to make her Christmas wonderful, and I wouldn’t have been able to do it without that village, especially my parents. They made sure there were lots of gifts under the tree so that Santa could be the hero that he should be in every six-year-old’s eyes. Their generosity and unselfishness where we are concerned – well, it’s true love.

Anyway, the holidays were, for me, what they are supposed to be – displays of love, affection, and connection, the reaffirmation of good relationships.

In the midst of everything, I tried to take some time to give myself a few little presents, too, in the form of moments collected. I spent some time in my favorite place on earth, worshipping the way I do.

a cold hike in the sleeping bear dunes to lake michigan

a cold hike in the sleeping bear dunes to lake michigan

12.2014 lake michigan

wearing miss l's russian hat for a trail selfie

wearing miss l’s russian hat for a trail selfie

a morning trail run in the sleeping bear

a morning trail run in the sleeping bear

12.2014 el dorado

post-run, i got to relax in a small northern michigan cafe with a ginger lemon scone and a double shot skim latte while two little lovely elves finished christmas shopping.

post-run, i got to relax in a small northern michigan cafe with a ginger lemon scone and a double shot skim latte while two little lovely elves finished christmas shopping.

in dreams begin responsibilities

I dreamed the other night that I was standing on a beach up north with someone I don’t know very well. It was a winter beach, cold wet packed sand, waves whipped to white foam under a slate grey sky. We stood in watchful silence and then I turned, and as far as the eye could see along the horizon, a string of boats, freighters and trawlers and steamers, flowed slowly but inexorably into the harbor.

“There must be a storm,” I called to my companion over the rising wind. “They are all coming into the harbor, where it’s safe.”

Caught up in the blur of a month of thankfulness, and finally breaking down to listen to ‘Eat Pray Love’ on my commutes, mixed with a dose of full moon magic, and a dream about boats in a harbor that I just can’t shake, I have started to ponder the concepts of prayer and manifestation. I agree with many of the concepts of spirituality expressed by Elizabeth Gilbert in her book, and I also feel that, like her, I suffered catastrophic destruction of relationships that forced me to face certain concepts.

I was forced to face my own weaknesses, faults, and failures. I am not the best at maintaining personal relationships, I know this. I struggle to keep up friendships and to show people that I love just how much I love them.

It forced me to accept that people will break your heart in the most crushing ways, and disappoint you time and time again; and that people will show you transformational kindness and staunch support, love and joy, in equal yet entirely unpredictable measures. There will be those who break you, and those who stand by you holding you up, and those who do both. Most times, I didn’t accurately predict who would be whom. And I didn’t expect that it would be so difficult for me to accept help when it was offered.

I had to accept my starting point, and what a paltry, indefensible position it was. No help for it;  I had to build, brick by brick, from there, and the only way to do that was from a place of grace, and forgiveness, for my own failings and for the hurt, disappointment, and abandonment I felt inflicted on me by others. I had to put everything behind me to move forward, and by and large, I feel I’ve done that. I am still a work in progress at forgiving and letting the past be the past, but I know the critical importance of it, and I work on it every day.

I had to forgive myself, too.

It forced me to accept that during all of the events of the past several years, I was not alone, and that although I chose the hardest, most exhausting paths to climb, there was a pattern to the events of my life, and grace, and that grace came from some other, higher source than my own limited self. Every time I fell down and said, I can’t get up, something forced me up. Though heavily we bled, still on we crawled. (Coldplay)

Like Gilbert, I have viewed prayer with skepticism. Actually, until the last year or so, I’ve been so uneasy with the concept of personal happiness that I actually felt more comfortable when I was unhappy, because then I didn’t have to fear the other shoe was about to drop. I suppose, for some reason, I never felt that I had earned happiness, peace, and contentment. When you don’t believe you deserve things, you don’t pray for them, and also, like Gilbert, I felt that praying for things was incredibly inappropriate. Why would God (whatever your concept of God is) care what I wanted, or needed, in the grand scheme of the universe? How can you look at the utter chaos and tragedy, the mass destruction constantly occurring on unthinkable scales throughout the world, and feel like God can care about my personal sadness, my needs?

I don’t have the answer to those questions.

But one thought resonates with me. It is David Lynchian, from reading one of his books on Transcendental Meditation. He is a bit cagey about a lot of the elements of TM, likely because it’s a “pay for play” program, but he reiterates time and again that meditation (prayer, we can call it) is not just a selfish endeavor. If we are to be viewed as a whole entity, if even one small dust mote in that entirety is happy, and at peace, it can spread, it can vibrate like a tuning fork. I think Madeline L’Engle writes about this too, sort of, in her Wrinkle in Time trilogy – the little farandolae who choose to sing with the universe rather than swirl ragefully, the tiny star that glows against the creeping darkness engulfing a planet.

I know these are grandiose concepts to justify prayer, and I know it’s likely melodramatic, but this is the way that I’m slowly becoming a bit more comfortable with the idea of a conversation with my God, and the possibility that perhaps it is okay for me to pray. To start, though, I’ve tried to approach this through the concept of work on myself, and manifestation. I don’t want to ask for things – I don’t want to ask God to bring me someone to love, or material fulfillment, or ultimate wisdom. I don’t even want to ask for things to be easier. I just want to have clarity about what I’m working towards, to view the future as an unknowable work in progress with nothing to fear, rather than a dreary unfolding of days spent alone, buying cat food and wine. I want to be happy in the present moment, be happy with what I have and the person that I am. Honestly, until I can accomplish those things, until I can dream my own life, I don’t know that there’s any point in me asking for anything else or having anything or anyone new in my life. I’ll just be repeating the same old patterns. So maybe that’s my prayer these days, maybe that’s my first step.

And you know, it seems to be working. I am much happier than I’ve been in years.

how to survive november in the northern hemisphere

With a fire, and bread dough rising.

11.2014 fire

I am practicing my fire-building skills, but I think I am going to need more wood for the winter. I also need to start thinking about a snow removal company. My badass homesteading skills do not extend to snowblowers.

It is sleeting outside, and there is another polar vortex (the first of the season! aww) bearing down on us early next week. I have chili in the crockpot. I should have been doing a Turkey Trot today but the time change, and the hours of darkness, have diminished my mojo. Today, all I want to do is hang out by the fire, make things, and watch the play of weather outside of the den windows.

I’m trying a simple five-ingredient French bread recipe, to cautiously dip my toe back into breadmaking. I love the idea of homemade bread but I’ve never been successful at it. I’ve tried a starter, but my sourdough is never sour. Finally I gave up, until I heard this on NPR a few weeks ago. I waitlisted the book at the library, but it fired up my desire to bake, so we’ll see how it goes.

Sarge is helping relax today. We wish you all a happy, relaxing Saturday to sharpen your saw, as they say at Miss L’s school. xo

11.2014 sarge

 

moments

10.2014 spot

1. Lunch with a Loved One. Miss L’s new school has been such a better fit for us and we couldn’t be happier with her teacher, her pre-care and after-care, and the overall environment. It’s a Leader in Me Lighthouse School that operates on the Covey principles, and the kids and staff take it seriously. (I overheard Miss L playing with her stuffed ponies recently, and she was rewarding one of them for ‘being a leader of himself’.) This week was Book Fair and Lunch with a Loved One, and Miss L got over her fear of mascot ‘Spot’.

10.2014 sarge in the sink

2. My last big presentation was Wednesday and the room was full of people. In a bit of a departure, I decided that I wasn’t going to rehearse or practice my already familiar slides. If my biggest flaw is nerves, I reasoned, I had to just say ‘I don’t give a fuck what any of these people think of me’ and stand up and do it. Now, I wouldn’t recommend this to anyone else, and it probably will never work again, but this time, it DID. I wasn’t nervous at all, no tremors in my voice, no quavers. I’m the first one to realize when I stink, but this time I was pleased with myself.

10.2014 eclipse

3.  GB & I were discussing the mechanics of safely watching the partial eclipse and he reminded me that there is a welder’s helmet in the garage. One of the benefits of having a house still full of my ex-husband’s stuff (I know, it’s weird, I think he’s working on it) is having access to items like that. I watched for a little while but ultimately realized how slowly the whole process went and even with the welder’s helmet it was still pretty painful to look at. Still, I do like the interaction that my ex-husband and I have at times. We laughed about the welder’s helmet and it’s nice to make each other laugh. Even though it didn’t work out between us, it reminds me of why we were friends in the first place, long before marriage and Miss L.

10.2014 monahans

4. I didn’t get to run much this week, and I feel a little anxious about that, but sometimes you have to choose companionship over fitness, so instead of using my free lunch hour on Friday to exercise, I went out to lunch. My running buddy M and our colleague MC Granola and I don’t eat out together very much, but we have a few Ann Arbor places that we love, and are very compatible in our food choices and conversation and music. We listen to the rap channel on satellite radio and hit Casey’s, or Chela’s, or, as on Friday, Monahan’s Seafood (see above – M graciously photographed me with the lobster). Monahan’s is a seafood counter in the Kerrytown market, there are daily specials or the standard salmon burgers or crispy fish sandwiches. Everything is fresh, beautiful, amazing, you order over the counter and there’s only limited seating, so we take our food out into the adjoining courtyard. On Friday the weather was mild and autumnal, almost chilly but not quite; the sparrows fluttered around us for crumbs and the gardens were turning orange and brown, fading hydrangeas and ivy on the mossy brick walls. The Kerrytown Chime sent clear round notes floating across the Historic District, and when we were done, we wandered over to Zingerman’s for coffee. We lingered on the corner then, talking idly with our coffees, and letting Ann Arbor bustle around us, bell notes and leaves falling around us in the mild breeze, unwilling to say goodbye; and then we drifted apart, calling goodbyes, the moment broken and dissipating, time always moving.

sentence per picture

10.2014 table

My dad made me the most beautiful farmhouse table and my mom painted it the most perfect shade of driftwood grey; now we just have to figure out a way to get it out of his workshop and into my house!

10.2014 emmett

Emmett, feeling sweet and artsy and pensive for a change.

10.2014 family mission

Leader in Me workshop at Miss L’s school to write our family mission statement and get acquainted with the Covey ‘7 Habits of Highly Effective Schools’ program.

10.2014 sunset

Sometimes even sitting in traffic can have its upside.

10.2014 orchard collage

Our annual orchard trip, picking the perfect pumpkins and spending time with our family.

Happy Sunday! xo

sleeping bear

10.2014 lower platte

Two years ago, in the summertime, I ran my first half-marathon, the Ann Arbor half. It was a long, painful slog and although I love Ann Arbor, the course was less than thrilling. Miles 8 & 9 took us around Briarwood Mall. I had to look at an empty parking lot and an oil change place during what are, for me, the worst miles of the race.

That same year, I saw an advert for the inaugural Sleeping Bear Half Marathon and with almost no time to train for it, I decided to run. It had a couple things going for it – it took place in my favorite part of the world, less than a half-hour away from where my folks live, and it was in October, my favorite month. And it was small. I knew right from jump (and still know) that the big races, the Chicagos and Detroits, are not for me.

The Sleeping Bear has quickly become my favorite race, for many reasons. I did it again the following fall and the unpredictability of the weather (the first year it was sleeting and I finished the race with ice caked on my shoulders, the second year it was mild and warm but utterly pouring, I was wet to the skin in five minutes flat and it never let up) and the beauty of the course hooked me. Moreover, it’s come to symbolize a lot of things for me. I’ve run it during incredibly difficult emotional times in my life, and even though I’ve only done it twice, I can remember the emotional resonance of different points in the course both years. For me, it symbolizes my ability to accomplish things I thought I couldn’t, to combat terror and bleakness with small goals and dedication and optimism and commitment. It symbolizes me taking care of myself and believing in myself and expecting a lot out of myself and doing it alone – I don’t typically run races with anyone else. Every mile helped me stay positive and strong, both years.

10.2014 empire

This year, plagued as I’ve been with shin splints and inconsistent training and strained back muscles and lack of willpower, I wasn’t ready. But I couldn’t give up another year of affiliation, so I volunteered instead, and had almost as much fun. The weather was cold and damp, we huddled in Johnson Park in Empire with a stiff gale blowing in from Lake MIchigan. In the early morning darkness, in a field that deer had occupied moments before, the organizers set up the tents and timing equipment. They were all jovial and focused, passionate about their event, stalking around in tall Hunter boots and all-weather gear. I warmed to my jobs, helped out with packet pickup and registration, I sold their t-shirts and hoodies, I pinned on bibs. And I was course marshal 10, stationed at the half-marathon turnaround, with a view of Glen Lake on one side and the Sleeping Bear Dune Climb on the other side, with Sleeping Bear Park Ranger Patrick.

10.2014 park ranger patrick

I tried to cheer on every runner, and the vibe was awesome. Park Ranger Patrick kept us safe from traffic, and the Glen Lake Fire Department parked their truck on the wide shoulder of the road with their American flag blowing in the cold wind. The runners, tired and spent as they were, yelled back at us, thanking us for coming out and volunteering. I had a huge smile frozen to my face and one runner came up to me afterwards and summed it up perfectly. “This was the most joyful race I’ve ever been a part of,” he said, and I had to agree. And it was made more joyful for me by taking the time to give back. As jealous as I was, and as left-out as I felt at not being one of the nervous runners lining up, the ability to help those folks accomplish their goals was such a happy, positive feeling.

I hope next year that I’ll be running that course again, and if I can apply this mental and emotional commitment and enthusiasm to my training, it may just be the full 26.2 miles.