Category Archives: Holidays

heap the logs

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2016-10_pumpkin

Happy Halloween to all my monster friends. I’m not dressing up this year but if I were, I’d probably be Emily the Strange, or if I had a great costume, Elizabeth Bennet.
I love Halloween but hate the day after. On November 1, it always seems as though the dark has firmly gripped us – and the streets seem empty, littered with dead leaves and detritus left from the festivities the night before. Still, though, we celebrate. Miss L’s school had their annual Trunk or Treat in the parking lot and we all showed up with candy and decorations. I dressed Finn up with an Under the Sea theme, $20 worth of decorations from Amazon and our old fish tank full of candy. To my great excitement, I won Runner Up, and got a trophy pumpkin and a gift bag.

2016-10_trunk-or-treat

Miss L’s dad and his partner K also came, and their Abandon Ship theme was funny and impressive and won the Principal’s Choice.
We all stood together to get our picture taken for the PTA, with the school mascot and principal, and Miss L in the middle. I was overwhelmed with a feeling of tremendous gratitude that we have overcome whatever problems we might have had and can do things as a family for her. I can’t speak for them, but I really enjoy the mutually supportive and understanding relationship we all share. Maybe we’re strange, but I still like my ex-husband and I like his girlfriend, too. We have all worked hard to get along and be kind to each other and it gives me a great sense of accomplishment that we have succeeded so far.

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The weekend was busy, but there was time spent with my other quasi-family, Jax and his kids, cheering on his son at the Regional cross-country meet and his daughter at her ensemble performance for a Halloween program at a local nature center. Miss L had a great time and to top it off, Michigan beat “little brother” Michigan State. I celebrated with a special manicure.

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November looms tomorrow and I am excited and intimidated to report that I have decided to participate in NaNoWriMo – national novel writing month. I always swore that I wouldn’t dabble in any of these cheesy acronym things. However, the thought of being motivated to write every day, and have a goal of 50,000 words in a month, and tools to help keep me accountable, excited me this year. So we will see. I will keep you updated on my word count periodically throughout the month and of course a full progress report at the end – how many words I achieved, etc.

Enjoy your All Hallow’s Eve….

All Souls’ Night, 1917

Hortense King Flexner

You heap the logs and try to fill
The little room with words and cheer,
But silent feet are on the hill,
Across the window veiled eyes peer.
The hosts of lovers, young in death,
Go seeking down the world to-night,
Remembering faces, warmth and breath—
And they shall seek till it is light.
Then let the white-flaked logs burn low,
Lest those who drift before the storm
See gladness on our hearth and know
There is no flame can make them warm.

2016-10_graveyard

labor day

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9-2016_frankfort-sunset-2

Although I generally hold a low opinion of humanity en masse, at times I can’t deny our basic sameness. It amazes me sometimes that the things that make me happy make so many other people happy, too; different backgrounds, values, personalities, cultures, and yet, this long weekend, we fought for elbow room in the same places to do the same things. We were drawn to blue sky and shimmering expanses of water. We were drawn to sunsets and the sight of the milky way over a cooling sand dune. We were drawn to shallow brown rivers warm under a bright sun.

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9-2016_betsie-lighthouse

There’s some aspect of our humanity that is drawn to these things, that feeds off these sights and feelings and sounds, we’re similarly nourished by them even though we might not know why or even that we are; we just know we want to be close to them.
After this weekend, Up North will start to return to its off season. The crowds will dissipate and the hours of sunlight will decrease. The woods and the water will become cold and the seasonal businesses, the farm stands and ice cream parlors, will shutter for the long, drifted winter. I sat on the beach off Peterson Road and thought that it was almost unbelievable that in just a few short weeks, the hot sun will be gone. No more bright towels and dogs in the waves, toddlers with sand pails and adults drowsing under umbrellas – just a stretch of grey, icy shore under a slate grey sky, scoured by wind and snow. There’s something deeply satisfying about that cycle.

easter weekend

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3.2016_easter eggs

It took a solid 36 miserable hours on antibiotics before I began to feel marginally human again. For the record, I still have some discomfort whilst swallowing, so this strep was no joke.

Yet Miss L & I soldiered on and salvaged some of our weekend. On Good Friday, we typically bake something, and plant some seeds, and do a bit of early spring clean up. Yeah, none of that happened. But on Saturday, we did our annual pilgrimage to Kensington to see the new babies at the farm, and have a bit of a ramble on the nature trails.

3.2016_easter lambs

3.2016_easter heron nests

There is a little island in the middle of a lake where the Great Blue Herons have their nests. It’s pretty amazing, even at a distance, to watch them come and go; I always wish I’d remembered to bring binoculars.

And then on Easter Sunday – despite feeling drained and wan with fatigue – I went to church. YES I WENT TO CHURCH.

***DISCLAIMER – IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED BY RELIGIOUS FRANKNESS, PLEASE STOP READING SO WE CAN STAY FRIENDS***

I am not a religious person in any way, shape or form. Under generous circumstances, I might be termed spiritual, but I can’t put a definition to what I believe. I just know I believe it, if it makes any sense. I tend to be a bit suspicious of organized religion in any form, although some aspects of it appeal to me – the traditions, the old-fashioned aspects of storytelling and mysticism, old hymns, whatnot. I haven’t been to church in over twenty years, but when Jax invited me to Easter service at his church, I decided to say yes. I didn’t even know what religion he is, but I was touched that he would want to include me in that part of his life, and it’s clearly important to him.

I was envisioning ponderous but lovely Latin hymns and a measured sermon in an old brick chapel covered with ivy, sunlight streaming in through jeweled stained-glass windows. I thought a dress would be most appropriate, but all I have are tailored black and grey numbers for work, or summer dresses. So I threw my capsule closet rules to the wind and went out and bought a navy blue and white number with a slightly full skirt, to be worn under my navy cardigan with my navy blue platform heels. It felt very Junior League but my impressions of Easter services involve pastels and white gloves and big hats and matching purses, and this was as close of an approximation as I could muster with limited time. (Yes, I will be getting rid of the requisite 2 items from my closet to make up for this.)

Jax looked very handsome in dress pants and a tasteful Brooks Brothers shirt and I was slightly agog with anticipation. When we walked into his church, however, it became clear that my expectations were completely off-base. It was essentially an auditorium, darkened but with flashing lights up at the front and a LIVE ROCK BAND. There was a drummer behind a glass window and three singers gyrating and singing a pop song into microphones. There were guitars and video screens showing lyrics and women wearing skinny jeans in the pews holding their hands up and dancing and singing along. It was all quite astounding and I felt ridiculously fanciful in my Junior League outfit.

It was an utterly mind-blowing experience. I tried to hum along and look interested and attentive, although on the inside I was slack-jawed with shock and horror.  And then when the singing was over I tried to relax and enjoy the sermon, which was about hope in the face of suffering. Then there was some mention of Satan, and I felt my cheerful optimism begin to fade again. And then the pastor said that when it comes to Jesus, you either completely reject him or you fall on your face worshipping him as your savior. Too many people, he said, take the middle road; they might not totally believe, but they’re okay with Jesus, they can take him or leave him. MAYBE EVEN SOME PEOPLE IN THIS CHURCH TODAY, he said, and I felt the cold sweat that had broken out all over me during the singing begin to prickle again. I know my eyes were the size of teacups. Am I so wrong? NO, I don’t 100% believe. I have doubts. I like the basic messages and feel that they are beautiful stories, but am greatly troubled by the forms that organized religion of all forms can take. I would be interested in the Bible from a historic perspective, and I could probably really get absorbed in the Gospel of Thomas. More than that, though – well, I just I can’t attend a church that forces me to attest to believing in things that I don’t totally know if I believe – and that’s what’s kept me away for twenty years. I have no beef with Jesus. But, in the words of a pretty awesome Criminal podcast that I listened to, when asked why he selected a Buddha statue over a Jesus statue for a specific purpose that you will learn about in the podcast, if you choose to listen, the subject of the podcast said, “(Buddha), he’s neutral. I mean, if we threw Christ up there, he’s controversial. Everyone’s got a deal about him. But Buddha – nobody seems to be that perturbed in general about a Buddha.”

Of course, I didn’t tell Jax about my discomfort. If he asks again, I will try to explain it to him; I still think it’s pretty great that he invited me to the service and we spent a really nice Sunday in the sunshine afterwards. But I don’t know if I’ll go back. In many ways, I still feel that my way of spending Easter – with lambs and birds and rambles – is just a better fit for me.

commitment day

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I ended 2015 in the best way possible – in front of my own woodstove, with two brother cats doped up on Prozac and finally cautiously co-existing in the same room for the first time in 3 months.

Every year, I wake up on New Year’s Day and notice a little 5k (“Commitment Day 5k”) that runs right past my front door, and every year I think, ‘aww, I ought to sign up for that next year.’ So last night at about 11.30 – hazy and sleepy with woodstove heat and basking cat – I did so.

The morning dawned cold and snowy and Emmett couldn’t believe I was getting out of the fleece sheets and Sherpa blanket. I trekked to the starting line and collected my t-shirt and blew on my hands for awhile, and a man in a Russian fur hat started us off. The first mile was bitterly chilly; little snowdrifts collected in my eyebrows. Then by mile 2 I felt warmer, and looser; no music to listen to except the sound of footfalls in the snow and the rasping breath of runners. I ran past my house along the route with approximately 150 other earlybird souls and every split got a little faster. It was an overall slow run, but I felt as good as it is possible to feel at the finish line when your eyelashes are frozen.

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Emmett hadn’t budged off the Sherpa blanket when I came back in except to squeak and glare at me.

I don’t make resolutions, but I have some things I’d like to accomplish in 2016. I’d like to spend as much time possible with the best little human on the planet, my redhaired girl. I’d like to read 50 books (since I squeaked in under the line of my 2015 45-book goal at around 9.00 last night, thanks to a late-year decision to include graphic novels). I’d like to run another half marathon and lots of other smaller events. I’d like to run more miles every week and never miss a week. I’d like to blog more and watch birds a lot and go for walks. I’d like to not worry as much if people like me. I’d like to spend lots of time with my family and my friends. I’d like to finish the novel I have in draft form and in scattered handwritten notes on scraps of paper.

And for now, I’d like to wish you all a very blessed 2016, and go join Emmett on the Sherpa blanket, and watch my bae Jim Harbaugh whup some Florida bum in the Citrus Bowl, and maybe get some pizza at Whole Foods later.

In 2016, I want to enjoy the little, simple things as thoroughly as I did in 2015, and that starts now.

xoxo.

merry merry

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12.2015 christmas tree

somewhat blurry pic of the ginormous real tree at cherry republic, glen arbor

Miss L and I spent a few days Up North and are just back downstate for Christmas. In contrast to the last two winters in Michigan, it’s been mild and warm, without snow. This has contributed excessively to allergies, sneezing and sinusitis, and although I wouldn’t wish for another deep freeze winter, I would prefer a hard cold day of snow to a nonstop muddy downpour.

The upside to the lack of snow was that I could trail run a bit. I feel like I’m starting to get my running mojo back, breathing easier, moving more nimbly, letting my mind roam around while my body does what it is trained to do.

When I came downstairs in the morning, ready to go, wearing my white and grey brand name running jacket, though, my parents dug their heels in.

Even in the Sleeping Bear, they said, there are hunters in the woods, and wearing white is the worst thing you can do. You look just like a deer flicking its tail, they said.

Here, they said, and handed me a bright orange cap. I reluctantly donned it.

Not good enough, they said, and my father disappeared to dig around in his closet.

HERE, he said triumphantly, and presented me with a choice of either a hunter’s vest with bright orange accents or a yellow anorak, both of which belonged to him.

YOU ARE KIDDING ME, I said.

No we are not, they said, so I donned the enormous yellow XL anorak that flapped like a sail around me. Miss L thought this was hugely funny yet horrifying, so I had to hide my own horror and reinforce that safety comes first. It’s not a fashion show, I said, it’s about being safe and making good decisions. I donned the orange cap with as much dignity as I could muster and avoided looking in the mirror on my way out the door.

I had an amazing trail run despite the flapping anorak and hit the last mile, feeling relieved that no one had seen me in my strange garb. My muscles were loose, nothing pained me, and my breath came evenly. I watched where I set my feet, leaves and twisted tree roots, wood soil turning to sand and back again, there on the edge of the lake. I’d heard gunshots in the woods, too, so my parents’ admonition seemed less far-fetched. Then, suddenly, I heard a friendly voice behind me calling out that she was passing me on the left, and a woman darted around me. Did you hear those gunshots?… she called as she flew by, up a slight rise littered with dead leaves, her breath showing in billows. She was slim and athletic, wearing running pants and a stylish lavender running jacket. Yes, I called back. That’s why I’m wearing this…I shook my father’s jacket.

I saw you, she called back, and laughed a bit, and took off again , leaving me in her wake.

She was stretching out in the parking lot of the Old Indian trail when I finished, and we chatted companionably for a few minutes. She was an Ironman, which made me feel less bad about being schooled by her on the trail. She was also really friendly and avoided looking at my strange outfit, which made me like her more. We agreed it was a great morning run – mild, clear, and the views of Lake Michigan from the trail end were pretty amazing.

12.2015 old indian trail

12.2015 lake michigan view

Plus, I didn’t get shot by a half-drunk hunter, so that’s a bonus too. Thanks Mom & Dad. It’s nice to see love in action, displayed in small acts of concern and caution, even if the expression of it is in an XL yellow anorak.

 

It’s always tough to leave the place I like the best to come back downstate, but I think it’s important for our family to have Christmas in our house (or at Miss L’s dad’s house) when she’s young, and it’s also important to me that she gets to see both of her parents on Christmas. Maybe that will change as she gets older. In fact, I’m sure it will, as our relationships change, as we all move on and grow, but for now, it works and everyone is happy with the arrangement. Her dad will come over tomorrow morning for breakfast and coffee and to open presents, and the fact that we can do that is a gift in and of itself. I am as always aware of how truly blessed I am on this Christmas Eve, and I hope all of you are as well. Merry merry.

 

there and back again

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10.2015 frankfort beach front

So since I last posted, I’ve been to Japan and back again, my cats have lost their minds and been prescribed Prozac, I’ve narrowly avoided serving on a federal jury in a terrible case involving heinous acts against children, my workplace has lost its collective mind and NOT been prescribed Prozac, I’ve been rear-ended, wrestled with putting up my first live Christmas tree in years with only a cat and a 7-year old to help (“Is it straight now??” “Nope.” “!@#$%!”), ridden the emotional rollercoaster of Jim Harbaugh’s first college coaching season back at Michigan, I’ve cursed Donald Trump to the fiery pits of hell for his hate speech and fear-mongering, I’ve given multiple presentations, and now it’s 60 degrees F. in Michigan in December. I had to buy an actual notebook for my ‘to-do’ list. The doorknob fell off my front door (this is actually an excellent deterrent against thieves and visitors), and between the rear-ending and a missing hubcap, I look like I’m cruising around town in what we used to call a “hoopty”.

11.2015 emmett vet

The worst of it has really been the cats. They have a terrible case of redirected feline aggression and haven’t been able to be in the same room for almost three months because they will actually physically harm each other. I’m hoping the Prozac will help us get back our happy calm home because I can deal with whatever the outside world throws at me as long as I have my little family around me, and two of them have four paws each.

I’m not sure what has tilted the world off its axis but I am hoping in the next couple of weeks, it goes back again. I’m really looking forward to a week off over Christmas to remain in pajamas and finish some knitting and reading. Maybe I’ll fix the doorknob…or maybe not.

 

village

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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.

catch up

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I always sort of hate when I haven’t blogged for awhile, and I have all this stuff to catch up on, and no idea where to start, and so I just put it off even longer. Sigh. Anyway, I survived Turkey Day without my little chickadee, we were joyfully reunited, and then I had to turn around and fly to Miami for three days on business, which neither of us were pleased about.

The boys weren’t happy about it either.

12.2014 miami suitcase

Miami was rainy and overwhelming. The sheer number of people pressing in on me every place we went was completely daunting. The traffic was beyond anything I’d seen. The hotel lobby was packed full of men (soccer convention?) in tight shirts, reeking of cologne and yelling at each other in some beautiful language. And staring. I’m unaccustomed to being frankly stared at and it had nothing to do with me being any sort of beauty, they stared at every woman in the same assessing, flirtatiously challenging way.  I commented on FB that it was like ‘Night at the Roxbury’ in a hotel lobby and before a person is properly awake and had coffee, it is extremely off-putting. I did not make eye contact with anyone and pushed through for the toaster projecting an air of ‘don’t fuck with me’ which is kind of difficult when you’re clutching marmalade and a slice of wheat bread.

The chickadee & I have been trying to slide back into our normal routine. She likes adventure and she has done awesomely well with dividing her time between my house and her dad’s, but it can take its toll, too, when she has traveled and I have, and things aren’t consistent. So the past few days have been lots of this.

12.2014 fireplace

Alex, the Elf on the Shelf, has made his reappearance. He was absent last year, as in the years before that, Miss L, as a toddler, understood only that he was a spy for Santa. “I hate that elf,” she said thoughtfully. So Alex took some time off and triumphantly came down the chimney a few days ago and Miss L is alternately charmed and apprehensive. It was funny when she found him wearing a Barbie skirt and leading a parade of her My Little Ponies; however, this morning, she came to find me in bed and said urgently, “Mommy – there’s something creepy in the bathroom, and IT’S THE ELF.” He was ziplining down some toilet paper unrolled between the top of the bathroom cabinet and the sink. I understood. Alex has kind of pointy legs that seem a bit spidery, and the glazed grinning face…yeah, I get it. However, once the lights were turned on and she saw him properly, she found it hilarious, but there is definitely still some lingering terror over the elf’s purpose and whether he uses his powers for good or for evil. I’ll have to make sure that the elf’s adventures are completely innocuous and nothing she could stumble onto in the dark, thus inflicting psychological trauma in the vein of evil clowns, dolls that come to life, etc.

black friday

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I always look forward to sleeping in, especially after a great Thanksgiving spent with my folks & sibs & nephews (I have two; one has golden curls & the other has a big nose and furry paws). However, this morning at six I heard something being dragged up the stairs.

(drag….thump…slither)

I think most women who live alone would be alarmed to hear unusual noises at night or in the early morning but they don’t live with Emmett and Sarge. If I’m ever murdered in my bed, it’s because I assumed a violent home invasion was one of my crazy cats, rolled over, and went back to sleep instead of dialing 911.

So anyway, at six, I flopped over, put the pillow over my head, and then felt Sarge pounce up on the bed and commence to chewing on something. I peeked out and saw him gnawing contentedly on the half-knitted sock project I’d tucked into my bag yesterday. Luckily, the knitting needles were still in place, and he hadn’t dropped any stitches, but he’d only dragged the sock upstairs, and the ball of yarn was still stuffed into my purse. He’d dragged the sock around the house, tangling the yard around chair legs and into the Christmas tree before proudly bringing it upstairs, so it required some unwinding and untangling. At six.

11.2014 emmett christmas tree

As far as Emmett goes, this is a common sight these days and I am thinking of starting a pool in my family to place bets on when the whole tree goes over.

He is also upping his game in his assault on the fish tank.

11.2014 emmett fish tank

In other news, it is Black Friday and I am contentedly tucked up in bed doing a bit of shopping online and watching the sun come up pink in the neighborhood trees. One of my purchases, carefully researched and saved up for the 20% Black Friday discount, is a new running jacket, which I’m really excited about. I’ve been running trouble-free for the last couple of weeks, albeit on a treadmill, and am looking forward to getting outside this weekend in the cold. I am participating in the Brooks Holiday Marathon, which is a virtual challenge to log 26.2 miles between Nov 24 & Dec 26 with some fun weekly prizes. It’s more of a motivator than anything else as I never win anything, but I certainly wouldn’t turn down a pair of Brooks shoes if I won them.

 

embrace the new reality

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Thanksgiving is now, officially, my favorite holiday. It used to be Halloween, but over the past couple of years, I’ve changed. I love the time of the year, the bleak brown and grey landscape, the quality of the light. I love the harvest time, the concepts of feeling gratitude and giving thanks. It is a simple holiday of being appreciative and being with people you love, taking time off from your daily routine and celebrating with eating. It can get a little lost nowadays in the rush before the consumptive, expectant madness of Christmas, but it is a holiday worthy of much love, I think.

It’s my first major holiday without Miss L (I don’t count smaller holidays like Labor / Memorial Day, July 4, etc) and as such it requires an adjustment for me. I have to stay more focused on the many things that I am grateful for and be present in the moment rather than feeling sad or lonely and filling it with “I wish” and “if only” thoughts.

My boss has gone through a terrible year. We don’t always agree on everything at work and that’s okay, I still have a healthy respect for her, especially after watching her experience and process her personal tragedy. It’s odd, because I look at what she has gone through, and my own trials and tribulations seem small in comparison. Yet she seems to view me with greater kinship and compassion as well, and references, occasionally, my experience, and draws parallels about the reconstructions that have occurred in both of our lives, as if to say that we both understand things about each other that others in our department don’t. This is alternately awkward and comforting.

Today, the managers came through the halls and let people go at 3.00; I had a teleconference so I lagged behind, and ended up putting on my coat and packing up my gear when the building was all but empty, the last cars streaming out of the parking lot. As I put my scarf on, my boss came around the corner, and we stopped and chatted for a bit. At the end, we said our goodbyes and she kept going down the hall; then, a few steps away, she changed her mind about something, and turned around. She gave me a gentle hug, which is unlike her, and, smiling and looking sad at the same time, she said, “Let’s both embrace the new reality.” And nothing more needed to be said, and I started my holiday with a feeling of gratitude for that simple act of kindness.

May we all experience many simple acts of kindness, and pay them forward.

Happy Thanksgiving Eve. xoxo