#EveryDayinMay - Tuesday Ten From the Trail

Time for the Tuesday Ten, a little meme hosted by Crystal over at Straight On Til Morning! This week, I'm sharing ten things from the trail - reflecting on my first overnight experience backpacking. This ten seems to make a great slice of life post for my trail experience as well!

Ten Things From the Trail

1. Walking ≠ Hiking. You guys. You guys. When I set out on this trail, which I anticipated as a moderately difficult walk through the woods, I had no idea that I would spend so much time staring at my feet that I would have very little time to actually, OH I don't know, notice the actual wilderness all around me. While it wasn't very hot, I was a sweaty mess from the exertion it took to simply not fall on my face.


2. Trail maps are not enough. While the map is important, it doesn't replace being astutely aware of your surroundings. This is rather difficult, however, due to the constant staring at your own feet that I mentioned above. The trail we were on was either littered with huge rocks and fallen trees, or pock-marked with horse hoof impressions that had dried in the mud, leaving behind huge holes of doom. The blazes (marks on trees to lead the way) were not always abundant. We had to be ever watchful. Basically we were like Sherlock Holmes of the forest.


3. There is nothing more lovely than a cool breeze. It's amazing how revitalizing that little breeze can be when you're trekking up a mountain with a heavy pack strapped to your back!


4. Having a dog along on the trail that runs back to wait for you every time you stop to catch your breath is almost as nice as that cool breeze. While The Husband almost always took the lead on our hike, and Lily stayed right by his side, Grimm would double back and wait for me, or simply stop along the trail until I caught up. It brought a smile to my face every time. There was so much about the hike that made me think of years ago when my sweet Daisy was younger and loved being outside in the fresh air; it was a comfort to have Grimm by my side while I process all the losses that equal up to not having her in our lives anymore. He may be a spitfire of energy and constant silliness, but much about his faithful personality reminds me of her, and that comparison warms my heart, especially now.
   


5. I'm stronger than I believed. With 25 pounds on my back, I climbed my way to the top of Snake Mountain, terrified a snake would jump out from under a bush with ever step I took. Snake Mountain may not be very tall or daunting to most people, but I hiked it, and I'm proud!


6. There are no snakes on Snake Mountain. At least, none that wanted to sink their evil little fangs into my fancy space-age hiking boots. Although, I do wonder if my elephant-like tromping through the forest scared away every possible threat I might have encountered. 


7. The Ouachita National Forest is beautiful, and inside it lies a maze of so many criss-crossing trails that you could literally hike for days and days and never see them all. Definitely worth visiting. I know we'll be going back soon.


8. Camping along the trail is nothing like parking lot camping or even the yearly Ranch Rudolf camping I'm accustomed to. Everything is darker. Sounds are louder. With one side of my body pressed against our tiny Kelty two-person lightweight tent, I felt as if there were nothing between me and the packs of hungry bears and wolves that most certainly were roaming the darkness.
   
   

   

   The Husband demonstrating remarkable tent building skillZ.

9. You will be exhausted at the end of the day. Forget reading. Forget writing. Forget staying awake because you're sure the bears and wolves and boogiemen are out there waiting for you to drop your guard. Eventually, your eyes will close and you will sleep so soundly that when the sun rises and you open your eyes again, you won't believe it's morning already.


10. I love backpacking. I love the quiet work of one step after the next carrying you forward. I love that everything you need to survive is swaddled carefully on your back. I love the thrill of navigating through trees and ridges, of feeling lost and completely in the right place simultaneously. I love the smells and sounds (except for those weird killer bird/coyote nighttime sounds, lets be real). I love it all. I already have my pack repacked and ready for the next free weekend, so I can grab my gear and take off for the woods. Backpacking has bitten me, and I am all the happier for it.

#EveryDayinMay - Ten (New) Slices of Life

Go check out Crystal's Ten by clicking above!

Every day is an opportunity for new experiences. Some good, some bad, some completely unbelievable. Today's Tuesday Ten is also a Slice of Life brought to you by one experience that made me realize how many new things happen to us in a day that go unnoticed. I wondered if I could come up with a list of ten new experiences today, to notice each moment that otherwise might slip by without celebration.

Ten Things I Did Today That I've Never Done Before

1. Ate a veggie sandwich at Schlotzsky's. Sure, this doesn't seem like a big deal, but hey -- it was new to me. Lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, cheddar cheese, a spicy ranch sauce, all on a deliciously toasted sourdough bun. Tasty.


2. Shared one of my Google Docs with a stranger. Proof I'm learning to play nice with others. I recently created a rather lengthy planning calendar for the upcoming school year, filled with literary events celebrated on a global level along with monthly deadlines for district technology and literary initiatives. Yesterday I noticed a tweet by someone looking for a calendar of literary events to use in their school next year and I thought, "Why not?" If my overly neurotic need to plan can be of some use to a fellow human, I'm happy to assist.


3. Used Skitch to screen capture and annotate an article. I've used Skitch before on images, but haven't played with it to highlight text, take notes, and summarize my learning. I did this today in a Discovery Education training, and when our instructors and a few other teachers noticed what I was doing, they tried it out also. It was fun to watch this spontaneous learning spark across the room.
   
   

   

   I think it turned out well!



4. Ate half a brownie. Now, I could be wrong. There may be some completely forgotten time in my past where, halfway into brownie consumption, I pushed that scrumptious little morsel of gooey chocolate aside and said, "Oh no, thanks. I couldn't. I'm just stuffed." But I have a feeling it hasn't happened before. When it comes to chocolate, I'm all in. Or I was. Today I have the wrapped remains of my half-eaten brownie sitting in my backpack to prove me wrong.


5. Used my phone to video a person using their iPad to demonstrate how an app works. Now, this app is probably one of the coolest things I've seen in the world of all things appy, so my nerdfest device-o-rama was definitely warranted. A Heart Cam app. Awesome. Sauce. You can listen to my obvious glee in the video!

  heart cam AR app demonstration  I'd like to point out that I wasn't the one that asked if that was his real heart. Just sayin.

6. Gave a dog Benadryl. Grimm seems to be suffering from wonky allergies. He gets big welts sometimes, which I believe are from bug bites. The vet suggested dosing him up with Benadryl, and although I'm not a fan of dosing any living thing up on anything, the poor guy is all itchy and bumpy and sad, so I gave in. For the first time in his little dog life, he actually spit something out. I tried again by dropping the pill into a handful of treats, which he happily gobbled up. By the time Uno and I got home from our errand, all his bumps were gone!


7. Oh, the errand. This has to be the most sketchy and least worthy of celebration in my list of newness. Uno's car was towed the other night when he unknowingly parked in a spot that required a visitor's permit while spending the night at a friend's apartment. I went with him tonight to pick up his car, and about $400 later he emerged with his car from the fortress of steel and security cameras that will forever be known to me as Car Jail (Carcatraz??).

   

   Watch what you say, yo.



8. While waiting in line behind the four people ahead of us at Car Jail, a tow truck from another company drove up and the driver parked and walked over to join us in line. He was an older man that looked as if he'd had a life punctuated with discomfort. His mannerisms and quiet observation of the scene around him made my writer's mind start wandering, so I took out my phone and started a short character sketch. I've never used my phone to take writing notes like this before (I make far too many typing errors with my phone! Kudos to peeps like Lauren Oliver, who appear to have the ability write entire novels using their phone!), but I'm glad I had it because this wasn't the type of place where I wanted to take a leisurely seat in the dirt, pull out my fountain pen, and start writing away in my moleskine journal!


9. Followed Uno in my car. I'm accustomed to chauffeuring my kids around town. I'm becoming accustomed to having them follow me places now that they drive, and we sometimes need to take separate cars when we're out and about. I am absolutely not accustomed to following one of my children as they speed down the highway like an actual grown up human. It's weird, people. It's a weird, weird life we live.


10. Looked through a collection of Uno's photography to select some pieces to frame and hang in the house. Okay, I've done this with artwork before. All throughout the boys' childhood, I framed and placed their art around the house. But this feels different. These are black and white photography pieces from his first photography class in college. And they are timeless and hauntingly beautiful and a message about the uncapturable energy of youth. I love them, and not simply because they are a part of him.

Above photos by Steven Lifsey, who
doesn't like sharing as much as I do.

#EveryDayinMay - Tuesday Ten Again

Don't forget to go check out Crystal's 10 for Tuesday!

It's Tuesday again and that means it's time for the Tuesday Ten -- a list of ten things! Pretty simple, right? Crystal posts ten things every Tuesday, so I thought it would be fun to write along with her. Today I noticed a few things I now enjoy that I thought I never would, so I give you...

Ten Things I Once Hated But Now Love

1. Mushrooms. This is serious, you guys. Of all the things I thought I would never learn to even tolerate, the mushroom was at the top of the list. I mean, let's not even discuss how the odd little mushroom begins its strange life. Or the fact that I always felt like mushrooms had exactly the same consistency of a worm. But here's what I've figured out: if you get the shiitake mushrooms and chop them up pretty small, and it you fry those bad boys up with some garlic and onions, the funky texture goes away and you're left with a delicious morsel that adds some serious flavor to your dish. Mushrooms, you win. You're a tasty treat that I'm happy to add to any meal. Except salad. Or sandwiches. I can't deal with the uncooked mushroom. 
   


2. Memoirs. I grew up reading a fairly large variety of genres. Everything from fantasy to psychology and even a little self help (as if anything could actually help me). But one thing I really struggled to get into was the memoir. I'm not sure when I made the switch to a memoir-filled bookshelf, but after reading Becoming Odyssa I realized that a well written memoir is something worth savoring. These days, I'm not only reading memoirs, but I'm writing one, too.


3. Flip flops. As a child, I couldn't stand how the thong of the flip flop felt between my toes. As an adult, I thought they looked tacky. I'll admit it, as the director of a small private school, I didn't let my teachers wear flip flops to work. I just couldn't see how anyone could run after a child in an emergency with flip flops flapping on their feet. But I'm a definite flip flop convert. I blame my summer trips to Ranch Rudolf in Michigan for this. I bought my first pair when my aunt told me I could wear them into the river and put them on my hands to help paddle my tube around. Well, thanks a lot, Aunt Billie. I've been wearing them ever since. And yes, I wear them to work.
   


4. Being alone. This was a hard one. I used to fear being alone. But then, I used to fear a lot of things. These days I look forward to my alone time. I play my music, write, read, or watch some TV, or catch up on homework. Being alone is no longer something I fear. Quite the opposite; I've become a little greedy with time to myself and often have to force myself to socialize.


5. Waking up early on the weekend. Don't get me wrong here. I love sleeping in. Intensely. Passionately. To wake up without the blare of an alarm in my ear is lovely. But on the weekend, if I sleep in too late, I feel like I've wasted the precious time I have to myself. I'd rather get up, meditate, do a little yoga, work with my sweet puppy, and make some coffee.

   

   Cutest. Puppy. Evah.



6. Which brings us to coffee. Oh, coffee, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways: as black as my soul, as dark as a moonless night, and as tall as a mountain. This is all my mother-in-law's fault. I had never in my life considered myself a coffee person. Give me tea, sweet fruited tea, or give me nothing. And then I spent some time in Iowa. In the winter. And began a sick and twisted love affair with coffee. These days at the Starbucks window, you can hear me ordering a Venti Americano, no room for cream or sugar, thanks. 
   


7. Wine. I was one of those dessert wine drinkers. Pour the Riesling, and keep it coming! Red wine may as well have been mushrooms, for all I cared. But then, again because of my dear mother-in-law, I found a red wine I actually enjoyed. And then another. And another. And oh man, it just really goes downhill from there. I don't even know how I survived this long without wine at my side.


8. Driving places without my GPS. Much like being alone, this really freaked me out. But then I realized that my GPS is a liar. A liar, you guys. I can find much faster ways and easier routes to get where I'm going if I just shut that stupid GPS lady's mouth and go it alone. And the upside? I actually remember how to get there the next time.


9. Not having a schedule to follow. Oh man, was I a list maker. An itinerary creator. A slave to the schedule. When I was getting my undergrad degree, I literally made a minute by minute schedule to live by each week. Granted, I was a single mom running a school and going to school -- but wow, guys. What a life. I even build itineraries for my vacations, afraid I might miss something important. No more, friends. I am willy nilly, flying by the seat of my pants. And loving every minute of it.


10. Cooking without a recipe. Sense a theme here? I measured the water for macaroni and cheese, guys. Macaroni and cheese! I don't even know what to say about that. But then I met an awesome personal trainer that taught me all about nutrition and healthy things, and made me eat an abundance of vegetables and things I had never tried before (he was the first person to suggest cooking the mushrooms long enough to make that icky texture go away, actually), and I start throwing all sorts of random things together in pans and pots and casserole dishes, and now I love my kitchen time. Just give me my Pandora station, a selection of veggies and spices, and let me go. Always a culinary masterpiece. Nom.

    

    Made this sweet egg fried rice last night, with mushrooms!

#SOL14 - Goodnight, Dear Slicers, Goodnight

Tonight I sent in my poetry for the third assignment in the class I'm taking. I set out to write poems from the perspectives of different women in today's society. What I ended up with was more of a social commentary type of poem; not anything I thought I would ever write.

There are two poems on motherhood, though only one made the final cut. The rest of the poems cover feminism, aging, false beauty, sex trafficking, and goddesses -- ancient and modern. Interesting to me, was the fact that I don't necessarily agree with the perspective of each poem. Some are more about being misunderstood than anything else. But I'm glad I wrote them, and I believe I'll keep writing around this subject. There is so much to cover on the topic of the 21st Century Woman; I have material for days.

I was sad not to be able to send the second poem on motherhood. It was one of the softer pieces I wrote, but just didn't feel finished. In fact, I think it's only about halfway done. I very much love the current last lines, though. And I think they are fitting for the last night of this March Slice of Life Challenge:

She sits beside the quiet

like a stranger.

And... goodnight, dear readers, goodnight.

#SOL14 - Looking Ahead

The end of this weekend is the start of a week that is far too busy for my comfort level. Paper due, testing days, after-school appointments, meetings, Writing Project event, work deadlines, and more. This on top of my need to spend an hour a day between walking and pilates to continue to work on my home-brewed physical therapy program to combat the dread fibromyalgia aches and pains that seem to linger more than they stray.

Too many things, too little time.

Days like these make me want to curl up and hide. I know it will all be fine, each day compartmentalized into a series of lists and checkmarks, but for now, looking ahead, it's overwhelming.

I suppose it's time to make my lists -- one for each day of the week. Seeing everything laid out visually somehow helps the buzzing that begins in my brain when I'm thinking of everything I need to do. 

But lists can wait for the morning. First, sleep. It looks like my goal of getting an extra hour of sleep each night may have to wait another week...

#SOL14 - Poetry Problems

Tonight I'm working on poetry. This is the third assignment of four, each a little different but all focused on creativity. I decided a couple weeks ago that I wanted to create a collection of poems centered around what it means to be a woman in the 21st century. I played with ideas in my head, felt certain it would all come together rather easily.

Tonight I'm wrestling with poetry. The words are stubborn, my thoughts are jumbled, the pen trips over itself. I thought I knew what I wanted to say, but the more I say the more perspectives I think of, and the less centered I find myself. I'm toying with words on paper, circling the questionable, crossing out the rubbish, rewriting the remains.

Tonight I'm writing poetry. It's hard, it's glorious, it's completely imperfect. It's exactly what I want to be doing. Working, wrestling, writing, reflecting on what's real. I'm finding the truth, narrowing down the words, sculpting the obscure into something known and beautiful.

Tonight, I'm writing.

#SOL14 - Always a Writer

Summer. 1982. I was seven years old. My tender and loving second grade teacher had told us at the end of the year that in third grade we would learn many new things. One of these things was cursive writing.

Oh, how I fell in love with those loops and curls. I just couldn't wait to write like a grown up, all fancy and frilly and flowing across the paper like an ice skater making graceful figure eights. It may have been summer, but I had to learn right away.

I begged my mom to show me how to turn my archaic chicken scratch into something beautiful. She found a book that showed each letter, gave me a pen and paper, and set me loose.

I still remember sitting in front of the long picture window that looked out into our front yard. Our bright blue and green curtains were drawn open, creating a makeshift stage for my practice session. Rain splattered on the window pane, pale yellow light shining through the grey clouds and into the living room as I hunched over my paper, practicing my loops and curves. The house was quiet, the only sound coming from the soft pattering of rain against glass. I wrote the letters carefully, forming each dip and arch with careful precision until I ran out of paper.

This quiet summer morning remains one of my favorite childhood memories.

#SOL14 - Why Kindness Matters

We have no way of predicting when our time with loved ones will end. In our biggest dreams, we have years and years to spend with family, create our masterpieces, weave together the legacy we leave behind. In our unspoken fears, we know there are no promises that guarantee us anything more than this moment.

Today I went to a memorial service for a friend's mother.

He lost her last weekend, due to a terrible car accident that took the lives of both people involved.

Last night, my brother-in-law lost a cherished grandfather.

Just over a week or so ago, my oldest son was involved in an accident with a motorcyclist that, thankfully, ended without any major injuries. Still, this one small moment in my son's life has rattled him deeply; a huge reminder for a boy barely in his twenties that he is not invincible.

Each incident a reminder to make daily choices to fill my life with gratitude and compassion, to make time for people and not fill my days with the busy trivial things that somehow tend to wedge in and become a sponge soaking up all the minutes in a day.

In the past year I have felt a sharp need to say no at work more than I say yes, to give myself more time for family and my own interests. The television is never on anymore at night, there is more time for conversation, I work hard (so hard) at being completely present with the Littles -- paying attention to their games, playing with them, having discussions, and leaving my distracting iPhone unattended so they get all of me, and not just a woman half involved. I'm back in school, working on what I love, even though logic would have sent me on a different path. The pressure to follow my heart seems to matter more and more than following the prescribed career path I began many years ago.

Time is fleeting. Focusing on kindness -- to myself, to everyone around me -- is where I find my solace in the face of so many uncertainties.

#SOL14 - For the Love of The Hunger Games

So often I have students (mostly girls) come to me and ask for Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games. Now, I can't blame them for wanting to read it -- The Hunger Games is everybody's darling right now. They've seen the trailer, many have seen the movie, and they love Jennifer Lawrence because everybody loves JLaw.

Of course, my students are not quite the typical age group. These are Fourth and Fifth grade students that want to read the book they think they fell in love with then they watched the movie. They ask me each week if I will pleasepleasepleaseplease-prettyplease-pleaseplease get the books into our library.

The thing is, I can't*. I work on elementary campuses and am allowed to purchase middle grade books for my libraries. The Hunger Games and many of it's similar YA brethren (sisterhood?) are out. I'm trying to compile a decent go-to list of dystopian books geared toward middle grade students, but so far the pickings seem slim.

So, dear reader, I'm hoping you can help. What dystopian novels would you recommend to Fourth and Fifth grade readers that are eager to jump into a story environment similar to The Hunger Games?


*A friend far wiser than me pointed out I could just borrow from one of our middle schools, which is true, but I'd also like to create a display of "Like this… You'll love…" to help students navigate toward materials we have in our libraries.

#SOL14 - Ezra, Hiragana, and Me: Compressing Poetry

Last night was another luscious night of poetry. Here's one example that might be handy in class (especially with National Poetry Month just around the bend).

We looked at Ezra Pound's In a Station of the Metro:

There was some discussion about how this poem is an equation. Something = something else. I really like thinking about it that way; it helps me simplify the poem to discuss it with young writers. It would be easy enough to show them photographs of familiar items (grocery bag, slide, jump rope) and brainstorm what else those things could be, look like, sound like... if we stretch our imagination. Better yet, take a group on a walking field trip to photograph interesting items they want to choose as their own subject for a similar poem.

In class, our professor handed out copies of the Hiragana. He told us to look at the various characters, stretch our imagination, and see what happened.

Portrait of Ezra Pound courtesy of my professor, Dr. Gary Swaim

Here are a few I scribbled down in the time we were given:

Two rails, side by side, never parting;
the closeness of your foot near mine as we sleep.

Her round, perfect belly;
the moon, the ocean, all the space between.

Leg bent delicately, foot pressed to thigh;
this tree sways but stands firm.

I'm not where I need to be in the art of compression, but this is an excellent way to play around with words and gain skill painting grand pictures with few words -- a lesson from which all writers can benefit. I'm eager to share this with my own young writers soon.

#SOL14 - A Strong Woman

Grandma Cooper was a strong woman.

I like to think I inherited her emotional strength and determination. Sometimes I just tell myself it's true, when I need to feel a little bolder. I think about her often; not a week passes these days without her on my mind.

There are many days when The Husband and I are shopping that I stop suddenly and squeal, "Eeee! I love this! I must have it!"

He just smiles and nods, saying, "I bet your grandma had one just like it, right?"

And most of the time, he's right. I fill my house with things that remind me of her: bowls, paintings, furniture, and even shoes. I look out into my backyard and cringe, knowing she would shake her head at the state of the flowerbeds, cluck her tongue at the lack of a garden. I learned to knit because of her, and stopped knitting when she passed. It's a strange connection, but I'm not ready to pick my needles back up again.

She has a spot in everything I write -- a wisp of a character trait, a location, a saying. Writing her into my stories breathes life back into my aging memories of her. I wish I knew more, had more to write, but I have just the memories of a lifetime of shuffling about from state to state -- of hugs and tears each time we said goodbye -- of a brief little pocket of time when we lived in the same sunshine town on the coast of Florida. All good memories, filled with earth and food and cloth and warmth and smiles.

Grandma Cooper was a strong woman. I like to think I carry a little seed of that strength with me, just as I carry her heart in my heart.

#SOL14 - Write Through the Pain

I often tell young writers (and old, I suppose) to write what's difficult -- those hard stories are worth writing because it helps us process the truth in those moments. They aren't easy to write because we don't like to think of them. We don't want to face the ugliness in something we said or did, or something terrible that happened to us. We don't want to face our weaknesses, our regrets, our secrets. But writing down those words can be just the salve we've been searching for.

Easier said than done, I know.

(If you're tired of hearing me whine incessantly about Pilates, this would be a good time to stop reading. Just take the above tidbit of writing knowledge and move on, friends, because honestly, I'm writing the rest just for me.)

I was half way through my Pilates routine tonight. Alone in the house, just my cheerful Blogilates video, me, and a yoga mat lying on the wooden living room floor. The movements shouldn't have been difficult. Standing shoulder and back work. No weights. Just my own muscles against gravity and motion. Less than a year ago, I would have torn through this workout without difficulty. Six years ago, I could have done it with superb flexibility and ease.

Tonight I took several quick breaks, rolling my shoulders back and stretching my neck by letting my head roll slowly back and forth. After each break I picked right back up where I left off, determined to make it through each motion. Finally, the series ended and it was time for lying glute work.

I sank to my knees, feeling the floor push back up against me. This shouldn't hurt, I thought, my knees should not feet like they are being smacked with a hammer. I was angry. Tired of the aches and pains that seem to be the rule that governs my every move. I laid down on my back, pressed my arms and palms of my hands flat to the floor, bent my knees and pressed my feet into the mat. Cassie Ho, the video's motivating instructor, began a series of pelvic lifts, raising her butt into the air as if it were the easiest thing in the world. I followed along, enjoying the music and focused on keeping my ab muscles engaged. When I workout, I pay close attention to my muscles, wanting to fully engage through each movement. Each push and pull, tension and release letting me know that yes, I am getting stronger.

With the video coming to an end, I struggled to keep up. My shoulders ached against the hard floor, my hips burned each time I lifted myself up. I did not give up. But instead of feeling stronger, I felt weary when it ended. My muscles were tense, so I decided to do some deep stretches to work some of the kinks out. Still on my back, I lengthened one leg and crossed the other one across my body until my knee hit the floor. I stretched my arms out to either side, breathing through the stretch.

Everything hurt. Tears welled up. Angry tears, filled with disappointment and hurt. I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, letting the tears stream down my face. I thought about how in 14 years, this house we just bought will be paid for. Thought about the talks The Husband I have had about traveling and hiking and adventuring together as we get older. Thought about the way my body felt in each spot it made contact with the floor, buzzing with a pain and weakness I am still not accustomed to. I switched positions, letting my other leg stretch, feeling the tightness in my hips loosen slightly. But not enough.

I rolled up to sitting, pulled my feet together in front of me and leaned forward, placing my elbows and forearms onto the floor, my palms down, fingers splayed out flat. I leaned in and my back bellowed loudly. A new wave of tears rushed forward.

Working out has never been painful for me. Difficult, sure. Sweaty, always. Invigorating, definitely. But never painful. It hurts my pride even more than my joints and muscles. It hurts my ego. It hurts my belief in how strong I am. It hurts, but I continue. And I write it all down because even though it hurts and it makes me rage on the inside, I believe it will get better. I believe that each time I push through the anger and the pain, I win just a little. Even if I cry. Because crying isn't a sign of weakness. And pain isn't a sign of defeat. And anger doesn't mean I don't appreciate each day I am blessed with. I'm still thankful for what I can do, because I know there are many out there who struggle more. I'm still hopeful for the future, because I know it exists. I'm still determined not to give up, because giving up isn't in my nature. And I'm still writing, even though it is embarrassing. Because that's how we heal.

#SOL14 - Family Matters

Today slipped by too quickly. I woke at 4:45 to the sound of a puppy needing to go out, and it seems that we never stopped moving from the time my feet hit the floor. I'm thankful for these busy days -- The Husband didn't have to work today, and I celebrate the weekends when we are together, even when they are so full they slip by all too quickly.

This evening my mother-in-law came over. I don't like that term, preferring mother of my heart, because she truly is just that -- a wonderful friend that I cherish. She arrived with a surprise bag of goodies -- homemade granola, ingredients to make red pepper hummus, a few cucumbers, and a delicious healthy chicken salad with sprouted grain tortillas. She loves to cook, and had recently bought a new cookbook filled with healthy recipes she wanted to share with us. This was a perfect surprise because after our long day, The Husband and I had barely eaten and hadn't made plans for dinner.

We spread everything out on the coffee table and snacked while we talked. Most of the evening was spent showing her some tips on using her new iPad Mini and iPhone. It's fun listening to The Husband and her banter back and forth -- mostly because he always tells me he can't understand the way Uno and I talk to each other; he says we don't sound like any other mother and son he's ever listened to. But when I listen to them, I catch many glimpses of Uno and me. Quick witted, playful, sarcastic -- lots of laughter. They're very comfortable together, so although I spent most of the night just listening, it was time well spent.

I hope that when Uno and Dos and the Littles are older, we'll share this same closeness. I hope they'll know they can call on us for help, and are welcome to show up at our doorstep any time. And most of all, I hope these relationships stay strong and close. Seeing The Husband with his mom always reminds me that just because my children are growing up, it doesn't mean they're growing away.

#SOL14 - Eviction Time

Pilates was difficult today. I'm not as strong as I used to be; my body groans with each motion. It's as if each joint and muscle is a jealous child, waiting for the opportunity to be heard. During planks and cobra position, my wrists bark up at me, begging for sympathy. Going into bridge must be modified; my arms refuse to support my body. My hips buzz with hot electricity during leg work. With each roll up, my back grimaces with disapproval.

It's a funny thing, this weakness. It came in quick and silent and occupied my body without asking permission. A squatter, claiming stakes.

Oh but weakness, you don't know me. You may have danced around my path time and again, looking for a home, but you aren't welcome here.

You don't know how stubborn I am, how bristled I become when told, "You can't." You haven't noticed the way I come alive at the slightest sign of attack. You must never have witnessed my fierce competitive streak.

My mom has told me since I was very young that in the face of any obstacle my retort was always the same: I can do it! I can do it myself.

So weakness, you may think you've won. My muscles may ache and my joints can complain, but we aren't finished yet. Pack up, squatter. Aches and pains won't stop me, this ridiculous new world called Fibromyalgia won't shake me.

Difficult is my forte. Time for you to find a new home.

#SOL14 - The Difference

Another walk. Another round of Pilates. The tight pinch that pulls all my muscles together somewhere between my shoulder and my neck is beginning to loosen. The ache in my lower back, though still there, has become more of a murmur than a yell.

Resting meditation. Nighttime visualization. Daylong focus on what matters.

More water. More real food. Even though this puppy is interfering with any hope of a full night's rest (okay, it's my fault too -- puppy is snoozing by nine and I'm lucky to be asleep by midnight), I have more energy right now than I did a week ago.

I haven't stepped on the scale. I won't. I know I'm not fit, and I'll know when I am. The scale is a liar that creeps in and whispers disappointment. No "before" pictures. No measurements.

What matters is I'm moving. I feel better already. The focus is on health, not appearance. That's what matters.

Each day a littler healthier, a little happier, than the day before.

#SOL14 - On Being a Writer

Last night I (finally) received feedback on the revised version of my first short story in the class I'm taking. To be honest, my first short story in years.

It began as an activity on creativity in class -- playing with words as a group, choosing five collectively, and each writing our own story from those words.

One of the words gave us the setting: Tuscany.

The rest of the story sort of just tumbled out: a woman, something precious lost, the inability to recover.

After class, I couldn't shake the story from my mind.

Our second paper was due in two weeks, so I asked if I could continue working on it and turn that in for my paper.

I wanted to keep the story short, but add enough detail to let the reader experience the trauma the main character went through. I researched Florence, hoping a reader would find themselves in the streets of Florence and not realize the writer had never been there. I worried and toiled over my word choices, unsure that I was conveying the emotion that felt so important to me.

I listened to classical music written by Italian composers. For whatever reason, it helped. I found a piece by Resphigi titled Pines of Rome, and the second movement, Pines Near a Catacomb seemed to mimic the flow of the story. It was perfect.

I reworked my story, including a few musical terms, and kept the length just about right for reading it from start to finish in the time Pines Near a Catacomb takes to reach the final note.

The Husband listened to me read it endlessly, a friend read it and offered feedback, and I tweaked it a bit more, wanting each word to have meaning. No fluff.

When our professor handed back our papers last night, he asked a few of us to read to the class. I was one of the few. I hadn't expected that. My heart raced.

Sharing isn't exactly my strongest quality.

But I read, fighting to keep my voice steady.

The feedback was illuminating. They were shocked I'd never been to Italy and pained by the heartache my main character faces. Their feedback was detailed and purposeful and exactly what I needed to hear. This is why I went back to school. These moments, to build my craft and my confidence. It's worth everything.

#SOL14 - #IMWAYR - The Summer of Letting Go

Last November I found myself in Boston for the annual NCTE conference. I love this conference, but let's be honest -- one of the huge perks of going is so I can fangirl all over the place like a... uh... fangirl? (Shut up, it's Monday.)

Anyway, because of Teachers Write! I already knew that Gae Polisner was a seriously rockstar kind of chick -- like, you guys, she may be one of the few remaining reasons I even use FaceBook. I prefer Twitter, but since all Gae's funniest moments seem to happen on FaceBook, I've decided to stick around a while. She makes me laugh, and I can use more laughter in my life.

Also, she is a brilliant YA author. (I'm a little jealous.) How do I know this?

Let's go back to Boston at NCTE, shall we?

I posted on some form of social media (I've slept since then, give me a break) that I was sad to have missed Gae's book signing session, you know, because she's awesome and maybe if I stand close enough to her I can pick up on some of her wondrous writing juju.

She posted back that she happened to have one little ol' arc of The Summer of Letting Go still, and would I like it.

Um, yeah!

Luckily we both happened to be hanging out in the hotel lounge (I was working, she was rubbing elbows with hoity-toity's because that's what rockstar authors do), and after spinning around and around each other crazily we managed to bump into one another.

The stars in the heavens sang, y'all.

Okay, well maybe not. (No really, they did.)

We talked about our boys and our dogs and I'm not even sure what else, and she said she'd bring the arc to her session the next morning for me.

Each word, every interaction, speaks to the heart of what it is like to grow up a mixed-up teen in a very mixed-up world.

And she did, with additional Polisner scribbles added as a lovely bonus. I consider it a work of art. And not just because it's so stinking cute, either.

Gae is as empathetic a writer of Young Adult fiction as she is in person. She is kind and true and all the very best bits of her sing out in her writing. I gobbled up The Summer of Letting Go on my plane ride home to Dallas, Texas, only setting it down long enough to walk off the plane and begrudgingly talk with my husband on the ride home because really -- Just let me read! (Sorry, Husband, you know I love you.)

In this book, Francesca (known as Beans to her family), was supposed to be watching her little brother, Simon, at the beach, when he drowns. Afterward, her family begins to drift apart and Francesca blames herself. Then she meets Frankie Sky, a boy that seems all too similar to the brother she lost, and her life may never be the same.

Although Francesca is hurting and feels as if she is also losing her parents and her closest friend, Frankie Sky is so full of life and mischief that his rolling antics add just the right lightness to this achingly beautiful and memorable story of loss and grief and life and learning how to tread water again after all the trauma begins to wash away. Polisner's treatment of Francesca and each of her relationships with the other characters in this story are powerful. I found myself reliving those confused days of trying to navigate friendships, boyfriends, and parents that seem too far away to help, and cried right along with Francesca through it all. 

This is a book I want to put in the hands of every teenage reader, if only to let them know that there are authors out there who get it, there are adults out there who can help, and there are books out there that sometimes (just sometimes) can help us understand that we aren't alone, even when we are hurting.

Go. Read. Cry. Laugh. Live.

Isn't that what all good stories are supposed to help us do?

#SOL14 - Mindset Reboot

I've been stuck in a circle of sorrow for the past couple months, choosing to have a pity party about my health issues  -- choosing self-defeat -- instead of focusing on the good things.

So my back hurts.
I can walk.
And my neck is chronically stiff and sore.
I can stretch.
I've gained weight by eating mindlessly.
I can focus on each moment and choose what makes me healthy.
I've slid back and am heavier and weaker than I was before.
I am completely capable of regaining the healthy body I want.
It's all up to me.

I turn 40 in September. I can choose to live mindlessly through each day and tumble toward that milestone without making any changes, or I can kick this bad attitude to the curb and start doing something about it. The time will pass either way. The real question is: so what am I going to do about it?

Since my doctors want me stretching daily but the physical therapy exercises are seriously boring me to tears, I decided to take up Pilates. I've done it before and loved it, and I know that when I love an activity I am much more likely to keep it up. I did my first round today, with Sass by my side. Since I want to workout from home, I decided to follow the beginner's workout calendar over at Blogilates. We laughed through most of it, even when she was rolling around on the floor yelling, "No more, no more - wow, this really hurts!"

Welcome to the burn, sister.

And since Grimm has come home, I need to work on leash training him. This is a great excuse to get out and start walking again. Eventually when my back and knees are stronger (and when he outgrows his puppyness), walking will become running. But I won't be able to run again unless I first walk.

Food is the easy part. By choosing to live in the moment and notice my choices, I tend to have great success in eating well. It all comes down to consistently making the smart decisions that will lead me to my end goal -- a long, healthy life.

Being active is the hard part, not because I don't want to do it, but simply because I ache everywhere and am sleepy all the time. Setting appointments for my daily walk and Pilates will be key to pushing through the first begrudging minutes. I know I always feel better about myself and am in a more positive mood with each workout I make it through.

I had hoped to do more of this during spring break, but the truth is I needed this week to just sit and think about what is truly important to me. I restarted my daily meditation practice and found myself falling easily back into that place where the past and future regrets and worries fall away. All that matters is today.

And I am very thankful for today.

I do my best to stay behind the camera these days. This was taken March 14, 2014 with Sass and Grimm!

#SOL14 - Puppy Love

First: Happy Ides of March! This will be my first time in a few years to not post about the Ides on the 15th, but something has come up that is a little more important than my love of the Ides!

One week ago yesterday, I was running around work like a complete crazy woman, attempting to finish up all the last minute details that needed attending before Spring Break was in full swing.

The Husband was road tripping to Oklahoma to meet up with the amazing people that are responsible for bringing our newest little love into our lives.

At the end of the school day, I made my normal rounds through the computer labs and library to turn off all the computers. My principal and a couple teachers were in talking with me, everyone excited to be headed off for a week of relaxation. The library door opened and in walked The Husband. In his arms was my sweet, big new boy -- Grimm! After many puppy snuggles, I loaded him up in my car and drove him the rest of the way home. He slept the whole way, all curled up like a roly-poly.

My gorgeous guys!

Grimm took no time at all making himself at home. He is headstrong, brave, smart, and always on the go. He is learning how to wait at the door before coming in or out, wait to be told "okay" before eating his meals, and is learning to walk beside me without a leash. It definitely helps that he loves his treats.

He also loves to sleep. In odd positions.

Last night I had my first training "aha" moment with him. A few days ago I started working on shaping with Grimm. I had read that shaping (as opposed to luring or other training methods) is a great way to let your dog think their way through problems, so I figured -- why not? I want to build a strong bond with Grimm, and I think this will be a fun way for us to grow a relationship.

We have three cinderblocks stacked side by side to make a small platform on the porch that we used when we were teaching Lily to stay. I walked over to it and when Grimm followed, I clicked (and treated) that behavior. I repeated this a few times and then the next time we went over to the platform again, I just waited. He put a paw on the blocks, so I "clicked" on that. Then two paws, then four, then he sat - each time I "clicked" on the new behavior. Then I walked around and kept returning to the blocks and each time he followed me around and got up there and sat right away!

Grimm on the run with Lily close at his heels!

I'm not going to lie, I was pretty much thinking -- "Wow, so this shaping thing actually works??" Then he got too smart and when I walked away he didn't follow me, he just stayed right there watching me and waiting for me to come back to him, because obviously I had shown him that if he sat there long enough I would bring him a treat. Smart dog! I should have realized that with each time I left the platform, he stayed there a little longer -- guess he was also working on shaping my behavior!

At this point I realized that I could either click for him staying there and shape our way to a long stay (maybe??) or reset and get him back to hopping up onto the blocks. I clicked and rewarded for how long he stayed, then said okay and he hopped down and trotted over to me. I learned SO many things from this 10 minute session playing this game with him! Number one: time to buy a book on shaping - I know a little, but I need to know so much more! This little guy is going to easily outsmart me at every turn.

So I definitely have a lot to learn, but it's easy to enjoy the process when I'm staring into this precious face.

#SOL14 - Sleepover!

Tonight my oldest niece and nephew are spending the night with the Littles. It's been a night full of games, laughter, and getting creative so everyone could have a tent for bedtime...

Fish Friday is a hit!

The girls get some Minecraft time after a round or two of Jenga.

K came up with the idea to use "super tape" to make an upstairs tent!

Everyone tucked happily away in tenting slumberland!