mindfulness – Page 2 – Waiting for the Karma Truck

friendship, inspiration, life lessons, mindfulness

Advice On Aging? You Can Keep It.

June 25, 2014June 25, 2014 mimijk

I have nothing against “More” magazine – in fact, I read it and applaud its mission to publish a magazine specifically designed for women who have traded their concerns about thigh-gap for hot flashes. However, on the cover this month (in the largest font possible) is the phrase “Secrets To Aging Gracefully” and in smaller print “from real women like you”.

Please.

Let me tell you what the secrets are – exercise, eat healthy foods (eat vegan – or not), color your hair – or not, use injectables – or not, live in the country or in the city, moisturize and be happy in your skin.

Thank you very much “More” magazine. I had no idea.

There’s something ironic about using the adverb ‘gracefully’ when one has joints that crack, a back that is willing to debate the merits of good posture, and an ever-increasing awareness that you will never be carded again. “Ha”, I say. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”

There is nothing graceful about aging. There is grace in aging. And there’s a rockin’ big difference between the two.

I spent a good part of yesterday at a local hospital receiving an I.V. infusion (for osteoporosis – I share this only because I don’t want you to think darker thoughts). This will be an annual trip; it’s nothing compared to some other unpleasant medical moments I’ve had and none of them come close to the challenges others face every single day. I may feel a little off today and I know that tomorrow will be far better. This doesn’t even qualify as a roll in the barrel -it’s a jostle.

The infusion center is where people go to receive their chemo treatments. On either side of me and all around me were patients watching hope as it slowly dripped into their ports.

To my left was a 67-year-old man who cheerfully told me about the hardy qualities of the liver, much of his having been removed a year ago; the 70-something woman on my right was laughing at the nurses who had to come and adjust her Taxol drip every two minutes. These two knew each other so they just pulled me into their conversation. They talked about their children, books, the cupcake shop in Georgetown. Significant others and good movies. Oncologists and naps when it rains. Joking with the nurses and occasionally closing their eyes as the minutes dragged. Just as I thought we were going to take a break, one of them piped up with a thought. I kissed them both when I left. The nurse and I hugged. Don’t know why – it was right though.

This post isn’t about cancer. It’s about moving forward in and with life, holding delight and intent in one hand and awareness in the other. It’s about fighting for your life like a street brawler while handling it as a newborn child. There’s nothing graceful about it – it’s scary and messy and fraught and unfair and arbitrary and clumsy. It’s also magnificent and wise and proud and freeing and luscious. Aging with grace? It’s those moments in between the extremes when you smile and weep and whisper ‘thank you so, so much’.

life lessons, mindfulness

Let’s Hear It For The Fog

June 22, 2014June 22, 2014 mimijk

You think I’m kidding? One of those Mimi-epiphanies yesterday as I was driving home from the mountains. I watched the fog descend from the tops of the trees, resting its covers on top of the valley. I was going to drive home under that blanket, so to speak. Windshield wipers would flap intermittently without rhyme or reason. Headlights would appear from nowhere; the air swollen and impenetrable. I already felt a sinus headache coming on.

Better to get it over with and drive. Packed up the Sirs, found NPR on a station I didn’t recognize and off we went. We tip-toed down the mountain, acutely aware that every sharp turn is not yet second-hand, we gently rolled through small towns. Respectfully and quietly. You’d never know we were there.

Once on the highways, the sun began to challenge the density of the air. We were good to go. And I realized that fog is really given a bad rap.

When in fog, one can only focus on what is in front of you. There’s no looking for the next curve, anticipating the alternatives that a clear vista provides. Your primary requirement is to get from point A to point B. That’s it. There’s not too much to consider, your eyes don’t look around with wonder and mild confusion at all that is in front of and around you. No sense looking in your rear-view mirror very often either, for you can’t see anything back there. True, you can pull over and just succumb to the opaqueness – most keep going. And get through.

It isn’t the clarity at the end of the journey that I celebrate though. It’s the process of moving in the mist. Recognizing that in all that murkiness is the greatest focus one may ever have. Nothing else teases for your attention, no one can distract you from your purpose. And it is in those moments of uncompromising concentration, priorities get distilled to the most fundamental. What matters is only what is before you. The eye candy, plans for later, the expanded vista of possibility are irrelevant. Just focus and feel the strength of getting through. There’s something to be said for that.

friendship, life lessons, mindfulness

Hiding In Plain Sight

June 18, 2014June 18, 2014 mimijk

Hi everyone,

It’s good to be back – though I was never really gone. I tinkered a bit under the hood of the karma truck, checked all its levels and kicked the tires. And since I know absolutely nothing about cars, I’m assuming we’re good to go..

Live and Learn (davidkanigan.com) gave me a figurative kick in the butt the other day with a post containing this cartoon from Calvin and Hobbes.

I get it – there are some who feel it could always be better. Life is acknowledged first and provided with a caveat after (‘everything’s ok – but…’). But. Dangerous word I think, and one I consciously seek to avoid in my thoughts and actions. Of course things could be better, but how flippin’ self-indulgent to diminish the reality that in and of itself it’s pretty damn good. This morning I listened to the unscripted conversation between the trees as the wind traveled through their leaves, watching how one would nod, and another shake its leafy head. I am sitting outside as I write to you, looking for bears from my safe perch (haven’t seen any yet) and laughing to myself as I wonder just what I’d do if in fact I really did encounter one. The Sirs and I have been exploring the road, the foliage, the wildflowers, before returning to our aerie for a nap (them) and a bunch of books (me).

Is it perfect? Of course not. I can provide you with an impressive list of things that are not okay. I’m just not sure why I would want to do that. There are people who spend an enormous amount of time considering what wrongs have been visited upon them by others, listing shortcomings and offenses with righteous indignation. I’ve started to re-frame the thought – what kind of person am I to others? Am I bringing a little bit to the table that is more about others than it is about me? I’m trying. Because if I intend to live a good life – and I am and I do – it’s less about the injustices or pain that I have known – and far far more about the good stuff that happens every time I step outside myself.

Thanks for waiting for me to get the truck in gear – we’re heading to points north, south, east and west – though which way first, I have no idea. There’s no GPS in this thing. Have a great day – see you soon.

anxiety, friendship, humor, life lessons, mindfulness, motivation

Pick A Card, Any Card…

May 4, 2014May 4, 2014 mimijk

I always wonder how magicians do it. Being quite naive and slow to track a sleight of hand, I’m one of those excellent candidates that others shake their heads at, wondering how I could have missed it. I miss it every time. So when in the audience, I never volunteer. I’m too easy. Andy figures out all of these tricks – it’s part of that male mystique of his that requires the provision of an acceptable answer.

Lately I feel like I’m the one trying to figure out the scheme. And as usual, I’m not exactly blinding anyone with my brilliance. Rather, I’m letting each moment happen and have surrendered to the limits of my intellect.

In the past few weeks, there has been a health scare with my son (he’s totally fine – but if you think I could string two coherent words together at the time, you’d be giving me way too much credit). I stayed awake – certain that if my vigilance failed for a moment, something awful might happen. I’m not sure I was breathing, yet I must have been, ’cause I’m writing to you now. As soon as I heard he was ok I saw myself as a puddle on the floor. No longer with any form or substantive thought. It doesn’t matter whether or not he understood my reaction for it wasn’t/isn’t about me – he’s the child (even though he’s an adult), I’m the mom.

One of my sons completed his MBA. This is his second Master’s degree – both completed while working full-time at one of the most unforgiving consulting companies when it comes to time and billing (let me take that back – all professional service firms are unforgiving when it comes to time and billing). Yes, I whooped when they called his name (but at his request, I didn’t yell “Go baby!”). These men o’ mine are no longer men o’ mine – they are husbands first. And I wanted my mama lion role back (with no disrespect to either one of my lovely daughters-in-law), mourned the loss of the role I know well. Chuffing at the opening of my lair…

Andy’s parents are moving to CA to be closer to their daughter and her family. The weather will be kinder. the opportunities greater for my father-in-law to golf, my mother-in-law to get involved in some activities. Andy’s up there helping them get organized until he makes it home today. We’ll go back up together on Wednesday. I’ve been here before; there’s nothing about it that’s easy.

My cherished friend going through the ebbs and flows of possible transitions – not knowing from one moment to the next whether she’s going-along-to-get-along or passionately caring about the life choices ahead.

So I wake each day with a hint of worry attached to my coffee cup. My shoulders a bit more bent. Roles change all the time, relationships morph because that’s what relationships do. The earth always moving beneath our feet and relying on our sense of balance to remain upright.

And yet…I am acutely aware that everything is ok. I caught two blue jays yakking it up yesterday afternoon (wow are they loud). The early morning stars shone with such clarity I wept at their beauty. I gratefully accept the morning’s invitation. Somewhere inside I am as full and fortunate as any one person can be.

I am going to take a page from some of my fellow bloggers and take a bit of a hiatus. It’s not good-bye of course, just some time to fiddle with the idea of blogging, maybe change the paint on the karma truck, rotate the tires, shift gears so to speak. It’s time – we’ve been on this road together for a long time and rather than lose the company, I’d prefer to pull over and park this baby for awhile. Get outside, renew, re-think, restore.

And maybe, just maybe when I get back, I’ll be able to tell you just how the magicians do it. See you soon. Much love…m

humor, life lessons, mindfulness

From The Top Of The World

April 9, 2014 mimijk

“Well, there is narcissism in all of us, of course. I mean we are the protagonists of our own lives, so naturally it feels like we’re at the wheel. But we’re not at the wheel. That just happens to be where the window is located” — Jean Marie Korelitz

I’ve been up at the mountain house since Sunday. It’s good to be back, though the first few days without any connectivity to the outside world was a little daunting. No phone service, no Internet. I thought that would be fine – and it was, except when the night encroached and I was reminded that I am a very little, inconsequential person in the great big scheme of things – and the mountains are a fairly imposing backdrop from which to consider this. What serendipity has brought me to this place in time. And yeah, there were occasionally shout-outs imploring the universe to keep me safe. So far, so good.

On some level it appalls me that silence can be unrequited, when it is so necessary and valuable. I’ve been struggling a lot of late with the outline of this next story line in my life (made even more difficult by the fact that I have yet to figure out what I want to be when I grow up). Itchy, out-of-sync, closing off more parts of me to see if I could get to the essence of what I want. The reality is I need this silence right now (though it is good to be able to converse with you again). With all the noise going on in my head, something had to force me to be still.

I have not arrived at any great conclusions, though I feel like I’m on the cusp of…something. And I’m feeling a bit less anxious about not being able to touch it. When you can’t avoid yourself, you have to figure out a way through the mild panic and self-deriding thoughts that circle around as a cyclone. Stepping outside myself to look inside and provide the reassurance that it’s ok. Let life carry me – for that is what it’s going to do anyway. What hubris to think that because I want answers now that I’m supposed to have them. They’re en route – like the spring.

I marvel that the buds on the trees, the flowers, etc are so insistent on blooming regardless of the temperature. They’re straining to burst forth, determined to honor their rightful time in the sun. A part of me wants them to be a bit more self-protective and wait until the temperature proves more accommodating. Another part of me is cheering them on, encouraging them to claim their rightful place. They’re going to bloom, in their time and on their schedule. I am learning a lot from them. The hide-and-seek exercise that transitions us from one season to the next, and the incoming season is always ‘it’. And always wins. So with this thought, I toy with a new season in my soul.

It’s all good. Learning to give myself a break, give myself permission to stare at the clouds, read a book in one sitting, make some tea and just savor. Savor my husband, my children (when they allow me), the cocoon I am ensconced in on top of this very large and imposing mountain. Make music in the silence and write a verse that has yet to be sung.

life lessons, love, mindfulness

Juggling Reality

March 24, 2014 mimijk

I’m not the most graceful person – never have been. I can trip over nothing, miss the lip of my coffee cup, bump into a wall – and that’s just walking from one end of the kitchen to the other. Would that these were marketable skills. What I typically balance well though are the variable weights of the thought bubbles in my head. Have you ever stopped to consider how many disconnected thoughts jump around your mind in a five-minute period? Some complete, others rejected. Some stubbornly intractable, others as ephemeral as a breeze. So we go through our days.

Perhaps it’s the disparate qualities of these thoughts that make them manageable. When life events collide, and the thoughts are connected despite the qualities that make them each unique – well, that’s another story…that’s the stuff of which headaches are made. Juggling – it’s not for the faint of heart.

Over the last few days, much has happened that is disparate yet similar. Andy turned sixty. My aunt passed away. Our well temporarily ran out of water – literally.

Sixty is an impressive number. A bit frightening even though the alternative is far scarier. And this generation of ours is making sixty look damn good. My daughter-in-law added a perspective I hadn’t considered – a birthday just makes you one day older than the day before. Well that just means that Andy is 59 plus a few days. And he wears it well. But when he looked at me yesterday and simply said “I’m sixty years old”, I felt the weight of those words. He is surprised naturally – how did we get here? I’m still wondering whether or not he’s going to ask me to go steady.

We also had just come home from the funeral service for my aunt. I hesitate to write too much about her, for as much as I loved her, there are four cousins of mine and six grandchildren who are the rightful authors of her story. She was a vibrant, social, politically passionate spitfire with a great smile. I remember lots of family moments at her house. Her husband and my dad (they were brothers) singing “The Bluebird Of Happiness” before collapsing in tears of laughter. Laughter. That’s it. I remember laughter. I choose to remember laughter. And how loving they were to my children. Her last years were stolen by Alzheimer’s – an unforgiving thief.

And she was the last of my parents’ cohort group. The last of my aunts and uncles. It suggests that my sister, cousins and I are now next in this ineffable path. I find that a difficult thought to hold onto for very long; I want to drop it, so I can pick it up when I’m ready – and yet it feels like it’s covered in Velcro. I’m not ready for all the ramifications of being a grown-up. My hunch is none of us are. I am in love with life and I am angry that it has to end as we know it. My head aches. My heart aches. And the sun rose this morning as it always does.

The well feels a bit dry as you can probably tell. The well guys were here already this morning and needed to swap out a part, advising us to keep the power off for a couple of hours to give the well a chance to refill. It seems like good advice. Sometimes you just have to power down and give it all over. Cry a bit. Accept that there are questions without answers or at least fight them with less vehemence. Let the sun hurt your eyes as it warms your skin. It’s okay.

RadiatingBlossom.wordpress.com posted a poem yesterday which has stayed in my bones. It seems a far better closing thought than anything I could offer.

The Thing Is – Ellen Bass

To love life, to love it even

when you have no stomach for it

and everything you’ve held dear

crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,

your throat filled with the silt of it.

When grief sits with you, its tropical heat

thickening the air, heavy as water

more fit for gills than lungs;

when grief weights you like your own flesh

only more of it, an obesity of grief,

you think, How can a body withstand this?

Then you hold life like a face

between your palms, a plain face,

no charming smile, no violet eyes,

and you say, yes, I will take you

I will love you, again.

life lessons, love, mindfulness

Leave The Door Open

March 19, 2014March 19, 2014 mimijk

This video stayed with me. The changing aspect of love’s reality. What we’re sure we define as love when our notebooks are covered with hearts and initials inside them, notes are passed and love songs are written expressly for you. Believing that it lasts forever, when one really has no concept of what that means. Love in later years, with fewer illusions and more complications, yet felt with a deeper understanding of the rapidity with which time passes. Learning to stay in love and learning to let go should one need to. Remembering to keep the door open to the possibility that it will return in a different form, with a different song and open arms. Let love in – however you define it.

friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, mindfulness

Ciao Winter!

March 4, 2014March 4, 2014 mimijk

Yes, it’s a ridiculous minus-something with windchill. Yes, the driveway is a skating rink and it has been pretty amusing to watch Bogey try to run from one side to the other without looking like a cartoon character. Oh and the cold is the kind of cold that settles in your skeleton, intent on staying indefinitely. I think I forgot to mention that we were the recipients of another 7-8″ of snow yesterday. Let’s not even talk about the stomach flu that Andy felt compelled to share with me. And yet…

This is what I saw this morning…

We all know I’m no photographer – I have absolutely no eye or aesthetic. But you know what I saw? I saw the subtle hint of spring, despite shivering so hard, my iPad kept jiggling. I noticed that the buds are beginning to swell slightly, the birds are starting to flirt with each other in that musically suggestive way that they may consider subtle (but we all know what’s going on). I saw a sun that delights in its insistence that it will defy the reality. How can you not gaze at that brightness and not feel its intention? Images of hope and promise and warmth. Somehow this morning it all seems far less complicated, far less encumbered with doubts and ‘what ifs’. It really is simple – life moves forward. Indomitably. With or without us. Might as well let it go and go with the plan. My hunch is that it’s going to be awesome.

anxiety, humor, inspiration, life lessons, mindfulness

It’s All About The Plot

February 12, 2014February 13, 2014 mimijk

“Become major…Live like a hero. That’s what the classics teach us. Be a main character. Otherwise what is life for?” — J.M. Coetzee

I’ve been thinking a lot about transitions lately. My friends who are encountering detours and re-routes that they hadn’t anticipated. Bumps that feel like moguls on one of the Olympic ski runs. The kinds of change that can leave your posture skewed and your jaw clenched to the point of pain. Jo told me that she thought transitions were easier when we were younger. Perhaps. Perhaps we just weren’t aware of what part of our story we were in the middle of – innocence is a wonderful thing. But when you get a bit older, when the time comes that you realize that this is in fact the story line in which you are the focal character, perspective changes a bit. We spend so much of our life planning our next chapters – even when they don’t turn out the way we thought they would.

As a child, I remember feeling that I just couldn’t wait for life to start – I couldn’t wait to be able to ride with the experienced riders; couldn’t wait to be double digits. As a newly-minted teen, I couldn’t wait until I could wear Yardley’s cake eyeliner. Then I couldn’t wait until I was legal. Anticipation in my twenties – to be a mom, be seen as an adult (and be forgiven for transgressions that were a result of not knowing what I was doing as an adult), have my own home. The thirties brought confirmation that though I no longer had the excuse of being a novice grown-up, I had fertile years to dig into this life I was creating without boundaries or barriers. Perhaps in my forties it began to wear a little thin, but not so much so that my mind was reluctant to keep moving ahead, anticipating next steps with energy and spirit.

Somewhere along the way, I realized that looking forward no longer held the same thrill. And despite the gratitude (which accompanies most things for me), there lingers questions about legacy and lasting impressions, an awareness that looking forward diminishes the present and quite frankly, too much future-thinking just makes me anxious. I can write a chapter, but I’m not prepared for the story to end.

And perhaps that is why these transitions get so damn tricky. Our emotional muscles aren’t as supple; we have seen enough to hesitate – able now to determine the degree of difficulty associated with our next move.

There is a certain grace in such awareness though. To be able to be engaged with life and observe it simultaneously. Moving thoughtfully enough that you don’t miss a cardinal on a snow filled branch or the sound the wind makes right before it blows through your hair. Arriving at a point where you know what matters more often than not, and staying that course. Transitions may not get easier as we get older, the choices may change in scope and size, but we are each, still the author. And I for one, think my story is damn good.

anxiety, friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, mindfulness, motivation

Living In The Bubble

January 26, 2014January 26, 2014 mimijk

I’ve decided to live in my awesome bubble today, so if you feel like fomenting trouble, please move along. I’m occupied with silliness.

It’s been a long time since I woke up feeling the need to be silly. It started when I took the pups out and saw that the only thing the moon was revealing was a smile. Which made me smile too. Bogey began to chuff at … nothing. His bravery is impressive when there’s nothing to challenge it. My hero. It wasn’t one of those banner sleep nights, so you can toss this up to that slightly frantic goofiness caused by too much caffeine over too short a period of time. No matter – I’m in the bubble. At least until I crawl back into bed.

“Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life” — Omar Khayyam

Smart guy, that Omar. He got me thinking. For reasons one could ascribe to astrology, biorhythms, synchronized moments in time, etc – some of my friends are struggling at the moment. Feeling overwhelmed, too lonely, disappointed, histories that they want to get over yet keep repeating, selective memory retrieval that prohibits touching grace.

Join me in here for a minute. Seriously. I am thinking that it’s never too late to create the relationships you always wanted; the ones that hint at why you’re dissatisfied with the ones that you currently have. What is the unrealized fantasy that pulls on your shirt sleeve as you struggle to move forward? What does it look like? Create it. Live it. Remember the kid that lives inside us all is waiting for you to rectify history. Fix it. Be the parent that you didn’t have. Speak to yourself as if you were speaking to your most loved friend. Get silly, get loving, get over these hurdles that others may have put there, but you have allowed to remain. Risk being happy. No one will hold you accountable for that state of mind every moment of every day. The onus isn’t as great as the weight of being an indifferent bystander in your own life.

My intent is not to make any of this sound easy or trite. My intent is to dilute the ‘buts’ and ‘can’t work’ to a manageable trickle instead of a waterfall. To engage the muscles that stretch most when moving in joy. To help you find your ‘tickle’ spot and wake it up. And if all of this is just too much for a Sunday morning – I hope at least that you smile, that you savor one moment in your morning. Catch yourself grinning.

anxiety, humor, inspiration, life lessons, mindfulness, motivation

I Want To Be A Cowgirl

January 21, 2014January 21, 2014 mimijk

“I want to be a cowboy, but only long enough to barge into a saloon and bellow ‘Where’s the yellow belly that stole my happy trail?'” — Jared Kintz

I used to occasionally catch a western with my dad (typically while he was changing channels and got hooked by something John Wayne or Lee Marvin or Clint Eastwood was doing). My love of horses made it impossible to watch any of the scenes which intimated that they were uncomfortable or angry in anyway. But galloping through an open field? I’d watch and put myself in that saddle. Slamming one’s body into the swinging door of a bar and with one look rendering a crowded room silent? Oh yeah. There’s a new sheriff in town and her name is Mimi (ok, I have to change that).

I also wanted to be the next Barbra Streisand, but that’s a story for another day.

And come up with the formula for world peace – I’m still working on that one.

“Where’s the yellow belly who stole my happy trail?” How awesome it would be if one could point a gloved finger at that varmint.

You know where I’m going with this – who would you point your finger at? Ain’t no one there, darn it, unless one is looking in the mirror.

We steal our happiness all the time. That interlude between moments that is so easily sabotaged by our confusion or displeasure, asserting that we are the victims of circumstance, a person, a poor choice. The thought that I am that yellow belly is anathema to me. And yet. Once again the duality of our humanity makes itself known. We are both fearless and petrified; hell-bent and heaven seeking. Bartender, just leave me the bottle.

The older I get, the more I realize that this is the town I rode into. The trail is far more littered with wildflowers than dead bodies (figuratively speaking – I am a cowboy without a gun). I have undermined my sense of self-worth far more than anybody else, the amount I have gambled reflects my own fear and ambivalence, my delights have been incredible, my pain has been fierce. And they’ve all been mine.

Every cowtown I’ve ever lived in has offered food, shelter, employment, sunshine. So I’ve had the ridiculous luxury of feeling lousy over things that are dreams for many in this world. So why would I self-sabotage my happy trail? Because sometimes it’s the easier choice. Sometimes, it’s far easier to think “yeah, but…”. The problem of course is that there is no happy ending with that script. One rides off into a barren field, head down – defeated by one’s self. And that just isn’t the way any movie should end.

So I get up on my horse, settle my butt into a well-worn saddle and look at the horizon with a delicious sense of the possible. I nicker to my horse and we ride..while I sing “People”. Must be the reason why I never made it in show business.

friendship, inspiration, life lessons, mindfulness

It’s Been Awhile

January 14, 2014January 14, 2014 mimijk

I haven’t posted for a couple of weeks – not sure why, other than lethargy, winter, stomach bug – a familiar drill for many I’m sure. During this time I received notification from our friends at WP that this blog has been around for two years. So Happy Anniversary to all of us on the karma truck. Thank you for joining me on this ride, providing direction and encouragement when I wasn’t sure the GPS was working, and for sharing so much of yourselves with me. I think that has been the most humbling, awesome, breathtaking part of this ride. There are no better passengers out there.

On the one hand, not much has happened while I’ve been parked; so much has happened while I’ve been parked. It all depends on your perspective I guess. This life – perhaps it’s all about measurement (which is a bit unfortunate since I am truly terrible with numbers). But it seems that when measured in days, it can seem so unremarkable, yet when measured in moments it is so rich and full and ridiculous and heartbreaking.

Sir Bogart is now a full-fledged member of the round table. No longer the precious-though-not-too-smart junior ‘Sir’ of a short three months ago.

I realize that we should have named him ‘No-Bogey’ or ‘NoBo’, for it does seem like the most oft-used moniker. Goofy. Stubborn. Selectively hard-of-hearing. Crazy affectionate. Yummy. Yesterday he discovered the basket of wool in the family room and proceeded to unravel a few skeins as he jogged around the house. I could have been mad, but it reminded me of how our house looked one Halloween after being t-p’ed by my son’s friends. Don’t get me wrong – I did assume the stance of the stern disciplinarian, albeit a bit insincerely.

NoBo also likes coffee – which really does evoke my ire. Again, my bad – I walked out of the kitchen for a moment, only to return to see him on the table, enthusiastically downing my morning’s first mug. And yes, he was wired for hours – think Road Runner taunting Will E. Coyote. Sirs Archie and Theodore steered clear of the whirling dervish that day. Lesson learned – mine, not his. Whither I goest, goest my mug. Even the decaf.

We all lived through being hugged too hard by the polar vortex. I love living where the four seasons announce themselves with little subtlety, but we all could have passed on this kinda cold. An exaggeration of what winter does to me – I hibernate, read a lot, delight in the aromas that emanate from the slow cooker, worry too much, resolve too little. Winter – the classic reaction formation – come here, go away. I love the moments and find the days meld. “One has to build shelters. One had to make pockets and live inside them” — Lorrie Moore. This is what winter provides – permission to live inside one’s self while still being engaged with the larger world. I guess this is me peeking outside of my pocket, wanting to see you and say ‘hi’.