Our Biggest Adventure Yet...

From the moment when my life really started to become my own (my late high school/early college years), adventure became the driving force in my quest to find and become me. The concept of adventure has lead me away from the cornfields of my youth, over the Atlantic for a year-long European excursion, through four amazing years of university, to an elite summer camp perched at the top of the Colorado Rockies, then sat me on the floor of the Ruby Valley to teach in a one-horse Montana town. Adventure also gave me the courage to forge over the Tobacco Root Mountains to the new valley where I now live. It has inspired me to try things I would have never tried before and helped me to work through and embrace the strange quirks of the new cultures I have had the privilege to experience. In essence, adventure helped me discover who I really am and challenged me to be more.

I've been in the same place now for about five years. It's kind of weird to think about really, because that's the second longest stretch of time I've spent in one area doing the same thing (second only to the 18-year stretch I spent growing up in the 'burg of my youth). I guess it's no wonder that I've been getting that itch again... the itch for something new. The Universe must have sensed it too, because just this fall it sent us the adventures of all adventures. Parenthood.

We were definitely happily surprised to find out it was our turn. We've watched many friends go down the path before. There are definite advantages of not being the first, one of which is not being disillusioned about the realities of having a baby around-- the 2 a.m. feedings, diaper blow-outs, sleepless nights, potty training, and the like.

Despite our nerves, we are really excited. I can't wait to snuggle our little Peanut for the first time, read to him/her, and sing the first lullaby. I just hope that our sense of adventure will guide us as it has in the past and help us to remember to look up from the necessary and often tedious grind of the child-rearing routine and embrace the whole situation as a life-long adventure, for better or for worse. After all, adventure has lead us to and from some pretty remarkable places before. Why wouldn't it be able to guide us through this too

Cheers to our biggest adventure ever! :)

Fusion...

Writing prompt (YWP '11 July 13th): Write about short fuses.


Fusion can be such a beautiful thing. There is beauty in merging together two, three, four, even five or more ideas; finding that point at which they all meet. It's electrifying, really, and can spark our minds as we search for the next thing to weld into this wonderful amalgamation of thought, perspective, words, and experiences. Each idea has its own individual luster. When we dig deep enough, we can find some common point, despite how small or unusual, that links to some different and equally sparkling thought.

Of course, finding the unifying point is often a challenge. To find it, we must be willing to stretch our minds and bust through our own thick habits and insecurities. It's hard work and is often uncomfortable. It can even start the short fuse of our frustrations. But, if we persevere and stay the course, marveling at the differences while also looking for the similarities, we can fuse all of these perspectives, words, theories, and experiences together. We can create our own spectacular art; art that will surely light up the world and linger in the minds of those we encounter, adding to their amazing mess of thoughts and experiences, sparking the passion within us all-- lighting the world on fire. Fusion: what a beautiful thing.

Fresh Starts and Cautious Optimism

One of the things I love about being a teacher is the fall (in most years the late summer). Each fall we get to start fresh. Last year's old, scuffed layers of wax and grime get stripped away, scrubbed clean, and replaced with a brand new, shinny, ding-free coat. It smells great. It looks great, and it feels protected and inviting. Every year I look forward to the moment I make my first entrance into the school--usually a week or two before I am required to be there (despite popular myths about us teacher-types). The halls are cool, dark, and quiet. The floors are shinny and new. The smell of optimistic anticipation floats happily in the air. Everything feels fresh and new. It's a great moment-- one of my favorites each year.

As it is with a lot of school districts around our nation, last year's coat of wax wasn't so great. It seemed to go from bad to worse, and then to non-existent in a very short amount of time. It left many of us feeling scuffed, dinged, and way too exposed to the heavy foot traffic from above. We watched as some were scratched to the core despite our gallant efforts to prevent it. It was bad. I'd rather not repeat it again.

When we flooded the district auditorium for our annual first day teachers' meeting yesterday, things felt better. They felt fresh and new again. The floors were scrubbed, buffed, and re-waxed. Most of last year's dings and scuffs had been fixed in the summer cleaning; however, there are still some deep scratches that didn't quite buff out. Yesterday the deep scratches were not so noticeable. Today they were much more apparent. It was hard to look, but impossible not to. It wasn't pleasant to be reminded of how and why those scratches got there in the first place. Yesterday it was easy to forget; today it was not.

And so I'm faced with a choice. We all are. How much do we remember? How much do we forget?

Every school year our floors get scuffed and dinged, and every summer our custodians do their best to restore them back to shinny new with the cautious hope that a new strategy and fresh wax will protect the floors better than the year before. It's a process. It's predictable. It's comforting. This year I choose to hope like our custodians. Despite last year's damage, I will enter this year with new hope and fresh wisdom. It's a cautious hope, but an optimistic one. (What's the point if it weren't?) It's fresh wisdom, but wisdom nonetheless. Until the trust is restored, it would be foolish to have anything less or anything more.

How much will I forget? This will depend on how much I can forget and still meet the goal.

Reflections on a smokey sunset stroll...

(semi- smokey moonrise I took a three summers ago from our campsite on Lake Mac Donnald in Glacier National Park)

I had to get out and go for an after dinner stroll tonight. And no, I am not having second thoughts about the charming Mr. N! :) Tonight I was lured by sunset. See, the smoke from the fires in Canada has finally reached us-- a common occurrence this time of year. Because we are surrounded by four mountain ranges, the smoke has a tendency to soc us in and make it hard to see much of the usual scenery. It can be a nuisance, but it does lend itself nicely to some really cool sunsets and sunrises.

The smoke does some remarkable things when mixed with the warm tones of the rising and setting sunlight. The combination paints our valley in all shades of blue, gray, purple, red, gold, and orange. The smoke and light also play funny tricks on the mountain silhouettes. The usually hard and clearly defined ridge lines soften and become mystical shadows and whimsical clouds in the distance. Just the right mix of smoke and light lends itself nicely to Montana moments and Montana reflections...

I plugged into my mp3 player and selected a mix I put together when I was in the thick of mustering through my first few years as a new teacher, new adult, and new Montanan. I'm not sure what drove me to pick that mix, maybe it was the smoke, but it took me back in time.

In some lights, I wouldn't want to go back to that time to save my life. Those first two years had their fair share of hard, dark, and smokey moments, but they taught me a lot. Mostly, they taught me how to pick myself up and keep going after life's unexpected sucker punches to the gut and how to successfully navigate the emptiness of truly being alone-- two golden lessons that definitely came at a premium.

But in tonight's sunset, I wouldn't trade those two years for anything. As a friend once wrote, although there were more than a fair share of dark smokey days in those first years, there were also some of the most beautiful "salmon colored" days too. Those are the days and moments that will be forever captured by my memory. None of which would have happened had I not had those dark and smokey days too. The people I met, the friends I made, and the family I found were all wonderful adventures who held the keys to many golden life lessons too-- lessons of a gentler sort.

Those first two years in Montana were the perfect mix of smoke and light. They were a series of breath-taking smokey sunsets that will forever anchor my story-- sunsets just like tonight's.

Patriots' Day: Remembering 9/11/01

Tomorrow marks eight years since the initial terrorist attacks on the U.S. It's hard to imagine so much time has passed, but as we promised, we still remember. I still remember where I was and what I was thinking when it happened. Where were you? What do you remember? How has it affected your life and perspective?

I'm choosing to share the YouTube video below with my students tomorrow in hopes they will remember and understand just how important September 11th is in our modern history. The kids I work with were really young when this happened-- some of the youngest only being around seven or eight-years-old that morning. It will be interesting to have them think about that day, what they remember, and to have them consider how the attacks have affected their lives and our nation.

That day changed so much for so many. It has shaped so much in our modern history. How will you remember September 11, 2001?

A three generation teaching moment...

(Image from here)

The most amazing thing happened today. Actually, a couple of amazing things happened. To understand their significance; however, you first have to know something about where I come from and why I chose to teach. As many of you know I come from a pretty amazing little town in Iowa. We are known for producing good football teams and kids who have been taught how to follow their dreams no matter how big or unrealistic. Of course, none of this would be possible without great teachers and mentors. I am so lucky because I can't pinpoint which teacher impacted me the most-- and not just my teachers at school but also the other teachers in my life who weren't part of the school.

Because of these teachers, I became a teacher. I knew what it felt like to realize my dreams with the help of my teachers and wanted to make sure that I could return the favor to the kids in my community- wherever that would be. See, my teachers taught me a lot more than just reading, writing, math, history, and science. They taught the important stuff too, like how to keep a positive attitude, how to reach goals even when they seemed out of reach, how to be a good person, how to do the right thing, how to use the accademic skills they taught to solve real life problems, and so much more. My track coach, Mr. Kerns, was among those teachers.

At the end of the school year last June, I handed out a very Mr. Kerns-esque farewell gift to my students. In fact, I remember him giving me something very similar when I was on his track team. I printed up a little colored sheet of paper that had all of the important lessons I had hoped my kids learned from our class throughout the year. I handed it to them as a reminder of what they had accomplished and that what they had accomplished really does matter. I also gave them a little gold dot of tape to stick on their phones. It was to remind them that they really can reach their goals as long as they keep trying their best to do the right things... At the time, I didn't know how well recieved those little dots and slips of paper would be. Today was the day I'd find out.

As summer passed and I had gotten word of what had happened to Mr. Kern's best friend, Coach Thomas, I couldn't help but think of what Mr. Kerns was going through. I began to think about his situation even more after I had heard Mr. Kerns agreed to take on a co-headcoach position to help fill Coach Thomas's place. I kept wondering what I'd be feeling if I were in his shoes-- if my best friend were to tragicly die and how I'd react. After mauling it over for several days I decided to send Mr. Kerns a letter. I wanted to let him know that I still cared about him and what he taught. I wanted to offer a word of encouragement espeically whith his new task at hand. I wrote it. I sent it off, and didn't expect to hear much back, especially concidereing how time consuming coaching can be. I should have known better. Mr. Kerns always found time for us. Why would that change now?

Today was an amazing day. At school a few kids stopped me and showed me they still had their dots. They gave me a hug, and I could see the important lessons really did get through to them. As a teacher, this is the best gift. This is why I do what I do. It was great. When I got home, I started in on my usual routine. I said hello to my neighbors, blogged a little, and washed the dishes. Then the phone rang. At first I thought it was long lost family friend, but it turned out to be Mr. Kerns. He had gotten my letter and the little pop can tab I had included to remind him that he "can" get through the loss of his friend and still manage to find the stamina to coach the team. He wanted to thank me and shoot the breeze.

I'll be honest the whole thing was surreal. Today, I was able to thank my coach over the phone- the coach who taught me far more than just running. I also had the chance to tell him I was not only able to use his lessons in my adult life, but I was also able to pass them down to my students. I even was able to appologize for "stealing" some of his really great teaching stratagies (He responded with a humble, "Everything I used was stolen. That's the stuff that works the best anyway"). I had the chance to tell him that my kids, thanked me today for sharing his lessons with them last year.

I don't quite know how to explain what this feels like, especially because it all happened in such an ordinary, matter-of-fact way. The kids just stopped by with no prompt at all. He just called out of the blue while I was washing my dishes. The only thing I do know right now, is that I feel really lucky. I don't know that many folks have a chance to have an experience like this. I also have a feeling it's one of those situations that few can truly appreciate.

So, today I feel lucky. I feel lucky for having had the chance to be a part of a three-generation teaching moment. There really are no words to explain how amazing that feels. :)

Thanks for taking a second to share the moment.

Some inspiration

I posted a video below of how my hometown is doing. I don't mean to get stuck on this topic, but it really is inspirational and is worth taking the time (just under 15 min.) to look at. It still amazes me just how powerful empathy, faith, and perseverance can be in the hands of everyday folks. What's even more awesome is how contagious it can be. Feel free to "catch" the spirit and/or pass it on. It sure puts a different spin on things.

(Video from ESPN's E:60)

Eeyore vs. Tigger...

Dr. Randy Pausch (author of The Last Lecture) once suggested that we have a choice to either be Tiggers or Eeyores. I couldn't agree more. Unfortunately, I felt myself slip in a bit of an Eeyore mode today when I started talking about school with some friends, and it ticks me off. What's worse is that I think I spread a little bit of my Eeyore spirit, and I feel just awful about it.

The worst part about feeling like an Eeyore is that the transformation took me by surprise. I'm usually much more of a Tigger, especially when it comes to school. In fact, I vowed not to become an Eeyore, but alas I felt the Eeyores start setting in last year as I found myself dealing with a few students who really pushed me to my limit and as I let myself get sucked into some slimey school politics. I knew it, though, and thought that my very relaxed summer had chased the Eeyores away. Today I realized they decided to cling on a little tighter than I thought.

School starts in about two weeks, so that gives me a little less than two weeks to ditch my case of Eeyores. Unfortunately, I think I might need all the help I can get on this one...

P.S. I'm open to suggestions.

Interesting Concept...

I just read a book that has me scratching my head and wondering about things, so I thought I'd take a moment to share....

Yesterday I finished Kris Radish's book, Annie Freeman's Fabulous Traveling Funeral. It's a book about a middle- aged woman named Annie who has died and planned this fantastic traveling funeral for her best friends-- no traditional ceremony/memorial service for this woman! She sends them to the places that mean the most to her and where she left, or in some cases found, a little bit of herself. At each spot she asks her best friends to spread her ashes, in order to help them let her go. In the process of the funeral, the women find each other and are reminded how important it is to make the most of life at every turn. The women walk away as tight friends who realize it's important to remember those who have gone before, but it's also important to keep on living, loving, and forgiving. Generally speaking, it's standard "chick lit" (In other words, it's not Walt Whitman, Keating, or Hemingway), and it has it's really hoaky moments. At the same time, it still has me contemplating... musing, if you will.

I know thinking about life and death might seem morbid, but this is the kind of book that makes me think about life and death in a non-morbid way. It even sort of feels like a challenge to live life instead of letting life live me. I'll be honest, I'm sort of a sucker for books with this theme, mainly because I've been dead set since high school on living my life to the fullest and sometimes need a reminder or two to keep it that way. It also helps me to reflect on the things (both outlandish and not) that I have done so far, and it makes me wonder where I'd send my best friends if I were to send them on my traveling funeral... Morbid? Maybe. Intriguing? For sure.

So let me ask you, dear friends, where would you send your friends if you were to have them go on your traveling funeral????

The High Dive...

This Norman Rockwell picture pretty much describes it... even if it seems cliche. I'm at a very interesting jumping off point, and I feel a little like this kid... Only I'm pretty stoked about the jump. I'd like to think I'm embracing the butterflies that are swimming around in my stomach. The jump hasn't happened quite yet, but I'll be honest; I'm enjoying the anticipation and wouldn't change a thing about it! :)

Ahhh.... :)

(The Trail)


It's always amazing to me how much better things seem after a nice walk and a cup of something warm.

Blue.

I had such a good weekend. The New Chapter came home for a weekend visit from his work stint in North Dakota. We played lots of softball with our team. We made a fantastic, five-star walleye dinner for two, and we loafed around the house a bit. It was fantastic.

But, all good things must come to an end. Saturday afternoon, we walked off the softball field for the last time this season, and I must say I was a little surprised at how bummed I was. This morning we packed up The New Chapter's truck, and I stood in our driveway waving him off on his journey back to the work site while also trying to ward off "the loneliness birds". Then this afternoon, I looked at my calender only to realize this weekend pretty much marked the end of my summer, as the start of school is quickly approaching.

Needless to say, I'm feeling a bit blue this evening. I'm so glad the weekend was great and that The New Chapter was here. At the same time, I'm a little sad that summer is drawing to an end, softball season is closed, and that The New Chapter had to go back to North Dakota. I'm sure that "this too shall pass" and that I'll dream up a few adventures for this up coming week and even start getting excited for school, but for now I'm just a little blue and that's all there is to it.

Ahhh...

A photo I took on a recent hike with The New Chapter

Today was a day

I could smile

and say,

"There is verry little I would change."

I'd love to hear about a day or a moment you wouldn't change, or at least wouldn't change very much...

Filters...

Photo of a flowery meadow on one of my hikes

As I've mentioned previously, I've had a lot to think about in the past few weeks. After thinking about all of those happenings and as I have tried to capture the beauty around me on film, I have come to an important conclusion and maybe even one that will become a truth for me:

Seldom are things worthy enough to be seen in black and white, and so I must dare
to think in color.

As I think about this idea, the more intrigued I become. Sometimes it's much easier to see things in black and white instead of seeing a situation in all the dimensions color offers. Seeing in black and white makes a complex situation simpler; it makes things more digestible; it tones down the graphics of it all. There are sometimes when seeing things in black and white works well and is the best choice. Sometimes the textures, angles, and shades of the situation are just so vivid, so beautiful, or so horrid that we just can't comprehend them in color, but a black and white filter simplifies it just enough that we can better understand what is at hand. There are very few situations worthy of a black and white filter.

Seeing in black and white limits our understanding. It flattens out those subtle textures, angles, and shades that can only appear in color; it flattens them to the point where those details disappear completely. As those dimensions disappear so does our full understanding of the situation. We don't see the blemishes. We can't tell if we're looking at shades of red, blue, or green. We loose that depth that only a color-filter can detect. As a result, we also miss out on the details that help us feel and think in 3-D. There are very few situations worthy of a black and white filter.

There are also those situations that lie in between-- there are always those situations. These in-between situations are some of the hardest. The full-color details are painfully vivid to the point where we are tempted to ease it with the black and white filter. But, when we try to put them in black and white they are muted just enough that we can't we can't connect with them in the same way we once did. Sure, black and white can take off the edge, but when we take off the edge we often lose a little bit of the truth. There are very few situations worthy of a black and white filter.

When I think about these two filters from behind my camera lens, at my teacher's desk, in my living room, or from behind the newspaper, I feel challenged. There are a lot of situations I'd like to put in black and white. It might make something look cooler; it might make something more acceptable; it might make something easier to deal with or come to a conclusion about. But, are those situations worthy of the black and white filter? Will it lose too much detail and depth. Will it lose too much of the truth? And so I have concluded: seldom are things worthy enough to be seen in black and white, and so I must dare to think in color.

Which filters do you use?

My Quiet Solitude

(A photo I took on one of my solo hikes.)

It has been a while, okay a long while since I've blogged. I guess I was (and still sort of am) on a bit of sojourn. I don't apologize, though, because it was a much needed rest period. I needed to go home. I needed to process all that went on there. I needed to re-learn how to live alone again (The New Chapter is still away for work). I needed to relax to the point where I could sit at my kitchen table and only hear the hum of the refrigerator and the beat of my heart (This did literally happen. I'm not just being poetic nor was I having a heart attack-- it was just that quiet). I haven't had the chance to relax this deeply and be this quiet since I lived in that barn in that teeny-tiny, middle-of-nowhere-Montana town where I got my start as an adult. This quiet, alone time has been delightful. I feel like me again, and am revisiting the things that make me. It feels good.

In some ways I feel bad because I have let myself slip off the face of my social, every-day world, and some of my friends are worried. I haven't gotten that excited about starting school yet, unlike some of them. I declined an invitation to go with a friend on her family vacation to one of my most favorite places (the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park). I haven't picked up very many phone calls. I haven't invited anyone to go on the many hikes I've tried or invited anyone to do much of anything for that matter. I've just been in the process of being and remembering how to be. I assure you that there is no need for alarm. I'm quite happy and have been doing lots of hiking, organizing around the house, gardening, reading, and the like. I'm far from being depressed. I guess you could say that I'm just getting back to the basics of who I am and will be a much better for taking the time to do it.

I have also been processing a lot of things that have happened in the past year or two, and my best processing happens in solitude and silence. I'm pleased to report that my family is doing really well-- My brother is moved into his new house post-tornado, and my parents should be in theirs by the end of August. In other words, my family is really close to achieving their "new normal" daily routine, which is a HUGE sigh of relief for us all. My family is not alone in finding its new normal. My hometown is also doing really well. The progress I saw on this trip and the general emotional atmosphere is nearly resurrected from the rubble. Although, just as The New Chapter and I were driving home, we received word that our beloved teacher and football coach was shot in the weight room in a drug-related shooting by a former player. The shooting has left all us all feeling a little numb again-- maybe even more numb than after the tornado last May.

In fact, I can honestly say that the passing of Coach Thomas has made me take a hard look at my own life, where I am at, and where I want to be. This self-evaluation has been the subject of much of my musings lately, and I have a feeling it has been on the minds of the many he touched. He was just that kind of guy. He made all of us want to continually strive to be the best we could be. Even in his death we can still hear him coaching us to do the right thing, work hard, give our best, keep pushing through, and to have pride and passion in all that we do. The words are so clear that in some ways his death doesn't even seem real. Although, I wasn't as close to him as many were, I've come to realize that because he helped lay the foundation for much of what my hometown stands for and my pride in Parkersburg, I am more affected by his passing than I thought. That says something about his character and might explain why so many from my hometown are feeling even more numb now than after the tornado hit last May. The whole thing is a lot to process.

But, I can say with confidence that we will all rise up again and be better than we were before; he would expect nothing less of us. The ironic thing is that for a good chunk of us, it will be his mantras, or a variation of them, that will help us through this rough patch just like they helped us in the classroom, on the football field, during those tough times we faced in our adult lives, through the aftermath of the tornado... His mantras helped us then, and they will help us again as long we don't forget what he taught us and remember to pass them on--there truly would be no better memorial for a man who touched so many.

So in my effort to be my best me, and to pay tribute to such a great man and to my Parkersburg roots, I am in quiet solitude thinking about how I can and what i will do to achieve my goal. I'm finding that for some areas in my life, I have to go back quite a ways to find the answer; it's amazing how time has a sneaky way of leading us off track. While in other areas, the answer lies in a hybrid of things from my distant past as well as from my more recent past. I just hope the conclusions I come to will reflect in the way I live, and I hope I can find and embrace the chances I have to pass on some of the mantras that were given to me from my roots and have helped me get to where I am today.

A perfect day...

My idea of a perfect day was today. It wasn't over the top. I didn't go on any amazing adventures nor was I the outgoing social butterfly I can sometimes be, but it was still remarkable in its own ordinary way. There isn't a thing I'd change about it, especially not that amazing Montana sunset that marked its end.

I hope you have a perfect day. :)

Changes...

I turn 27 this week, and I definitely feel different this time around. I guess it makes sense, a lot has changed this year. When I think through the list, no wonder I feel different. Hmm... I wonder what will change this upcoming year??? But for now, I think I'll enjoy the cake :)

Nuggets of Wisdom...

(Photo from here)

I'm not quite sure what the new chapter put in my egg sandwich this morning, but I feel like I'm bursting with energy and inspiration today. And, given this past week has been kind of tricky for me, and I'd prefer not to repeat some of my mistakes, I'm going to "take a post" to show what I've learned, or in some cases re-learned.

Teaching can be tricky sometimes. There's the teaching element (working with and looking out for the kids, preparing lessons, making assignments, grading assignments, etc.); there's also the social, work-place element-- the politics of it all. This year I've found myself in a deeper a political pit than I'd like to be. I find myself getting more worked up and drained by the social and political elements of my job than by the teaching/kid element. It makes me sad. I often pride myself in comforting some of my female students by saying, "don't worry, the social part gets better after high school," but does it? I'm not so sure. So I guess one nugget I've pulled out of last week is that it really is okay to spend the majority of my school time in my "hobbit hole". It helps me stay focused on the teaching part of my job (the most important part) and helps prevent me from getting sucked up into a world of social mishaps and politics that only leave me tapped out and depressed. Granted, I know it's important to emerge from that "hobbit hole" from time to time, but it does help to be reminded of the quiet sanctuary it can provide.

This week I've also realized I simply talk too much. I'm not sure what possesses me to talk so much sometimes, but I'd really like to do it less. There are so many interesting things out there just waiting to be read, heard, or observed, and most of them are far more interesting than what I have to say. Not to mention that my Chatty Cathy tendencies are also wearing on me during the time of the school year when energy is a much sought after commodity. A good friend once told me that we have two ears and one mouth and we should use them accordingly in that ratio-- we should listen twice as much as we speak. I'm going to try really hard to follow that advice. I'll keep you posted on how it goes. Who knows, maybe my progress will even translate to my writing style.

A couple of years back when I was having a really rough time, my mom sent me an amazing birthday card. I'm pretty sure it was from the Mia Angelo collection-- it has that simple and wise Mia Angelo tone to it. I keep it posted above my desk because it's chalk full of little nuggets of wisdom that are so easy to forget but often make all of the difference. One part of it says, "Listen to your heart. If you can't hear what it's saying in this noisy world, make time for yourself. Enjoy your own company." Boy, was that ever the reminder towards the end of this week. Thanks for the reminder Mom and Mia; I feel much better after some much needed me time. I can finally hear my own heart beating.

My mind rarely rests (one of the plagues of being a wandering spirit who musses), and sometimes I need a little help saving myself from me. I'm lucky to have friends who understand this about me and seem to instinctively know when I need help escaping from my own criticisms and weird need to please others. This time I found my help in the new chapter. I'm pretty sure he didn't even realize he was helping me-- I didn't say a word, nor did he-- but he rescued me from me none the less. After a particularly long session of beating myself up about stupid things and feeling really unbalanced, I emerged from my lady lair attempting to be composed, buried my head into the crook of his shoulder, and instantaneously the fight within stopped. Not long after, my brain shut off, and I fell fast asleep-- which never happens to me. I'm lucky. I'm so lucky.

And now I find myself at the start of a new week. I feel refreshed. I feel lucky instead of defeated. I even feel at peace enough that I can read for my own guilty pleasure, not because I have to read for work-- something I haven't been able to do in a long, long time. Ahhh....

The Date...

The date with myself was awesome yesterday. I feel much more like me and am ready to tackle the world. Funny how one day can change so much. I highly recommend taking yourself on a date day; it's one of the easier ways to get back to center.

I did some yoga, went for a walk, did some chores around the house, headed into town to catch a screening of Earth (great flick by the way), picked out a new summer read (Firefly Lane), ran some errands, rented a few movies (Marley & Me and Seven Pounds), and chilled out in my lady lair all evening long munching on Taco Bell, sipping on a glass of white wine, and taking in the films I rented. It was lovely, just lovely.

Now it's on to grade the 40 research papers I've been putting off while the snow keeps steadily falling outside my window... I guess I picked a good day to grade! :)

Getting back to center...

My friend over at Grace's Birdcage Wedding once wrote...

Do you ever have days where you kind of look forward to hanging out with
yourself? Not being by yourself - but like my mind was literally like 'hey you,
lets be buddies and chill together.

I'm having one of those days. I just want to hangout with myself. Life has been moving so fast, and I feel like there have been so many changes around me that I just need to take a day to slow down, screw my head on straight, and get reacquainted with me. It feels like it's been eons since I've hung out with myself, and I'm really craving that quiet, relaxed chill time.

The new chapter is out of the house for today, and the sun is actually shining (it snowed another foot at our house yesterday :( Boo! ). Maybe I'll take myself for a walk, go for a drive, have a nice lunch, get those running shoes I've been eying... the possibilities are endless. I like that! I can't wait to get reacquainted.